Lethal •My Jeff The Killer Origin Story•

Part. 6, The End Of My Happiness

"That, is som-e of the be-st wine I've ever had," She spoke softly in a joking matter, and Peter chuckles whimsically, helping her sit down before joining her.

"God, today was something," She nods, but smiles, turning her head to him." It's alright. It all turned out fine. We're going to push through everything like we always do." It really meant something, as those were the only lines she could not slurr. Peter smiles shortly at her." I know." "I love you," "Love you too." She kisses him softly, before kicking off her heels, and lying down, falling asleep almost instantly. Peter joins her, after removing his own shoes, and shook his head at her soft snores.

Nightfall crawled through the hours blissfully, the suburban town falling silent and peaceful. As peaceful as you can get on a night visited by death.

First, it was an unadorned laughing from the bathroom, not loud enough to wake anyone, but as it turned into a sobbing, Margaret jumps up, easily recognizing the cry. A good mother will always recognize it, they say.

It dies down in a subconscious way, but she still removes herself from the bed, holding her chest as her heart almost leaped out in adrenaline.

She was still drunk, that much should be taken into account, but she wanted to help one of her babies if they were crying. She peeks out of her room, blinking in shock and alarm at the bright light of the bathroom flashing across her face. After accommodating to the light, she halts again, upon seeing the sight her eyes finally allowed her to see.

Jeffery was standing in front of the mirror, sobbing silently as he held a bloody knife.

She held in a shriek of shock, as she tried to look at his arms. Did he cut himself? Did he hurt anyone? She needed to know, but apprehension kept her in place. She remembers the doctor said that self-harm was prone to occur in these cases...

His head slowly tinkers up from the sink, and his dreary eyes pool into the mirror. That's when her heart stops.

Long old wounds were uncovered from traumatic damages into his cheeks like a sick smile, as the blood seeped from the wounds. It wasn't all the way into his cheeks like Randy had done, but it made his face look horrid, and color-filled, unlike before. The black rings around his eyes, from lack of sleep, along with the red puffy state his crying put him in really settled this unreconstructed feeling, and this dread. Her son was miserable, mutilated.

He sobbed more," God, God," he whispers," Stop it, it hurts." He begs no one, and Margaret held her mouth to stop her cries." Please stop it," He drops the kitchen knife into the blood-covered sink, and holds his head in pain as he sobbed even harder. He gripped the air for locks no longer there, instead clawing scratches into the back of his skull.

The blood trickling down from his pale face was deafening, as it slipped down the sink drain.

Margaret couldn't take it, she had to, her baby was in pain, he shouldn't have to go through this!

But that wasn't the only reason she decided to do it. She was scared. Her son dived into the deep end, and she finally realized, he was insane. He couldn't be saved, and she didn't want her family to be in danger because of a bad apple.

Call it self-harm, a cry for help, whatever. Jeffery needed to go.

So, blinded by drunk rage, she rushed back into her room quietly.

But, the woman was never really silent, and she awoke her husband, who sat up impishly and blinked into the dark, watching eerily as she started to open the closet, digging out the safe." Dear, what are you-," She opens it, and tugs out the hand pistol.

They got it out of fear of the dangers of the world, and as this wasn't the safest town, hence recent events, they had taken precautions.

She wasn't supposed to use it as it was Peter who had the permit, yes, but what was she to do in this situation?