Diary of a Killer REWRITTEN ||Jeff the Killer Story||

Entry 3

Readers, do I have some exciting news for you.

Everything was going smoothly during my little watch session. Dad got a little rowdy but nothing too violent occurred.  Tonight was my, maybe, third week? Fourth? Watching over our dear father, and by the second day I was already snoring. He has no life whatsoever!

In my solution to that bore-fest, I'd made up a fun little game with myself. It's actually very entertaining! Really gets the adrenaline flowing! Here's how it works:

I sneak into the house, and pick a particular room. When I'm sure no one is around I dig through the personal belongings, other random junk, and try to figure out their back story! In a way, I'd like to think I'm just like Sherlock Holmes. (Maybe even a little more cunning)

The father's son, "Marcus" from what I've gathered, usually secludes himself in his room for the majority of his time, and so I've never been able to play my little game inside his sanctuary. However tonight was just my luck! He was out, no where to be found, giving me plenty of time to dig through his treasures galore!

My first look was through the garbage dump of a floor, as I held my nose to block the toxic fumes of stale bits of food and crumpled up tissues. I wasn't too flabbergasted when that was precisely all I could find, though now that I think back on it, I was a bit preoccupied by the smell. Simply by reliving that setting in my mind my head spins and my stomach feels like it's being weighed to the ground. 

Not wanting to lose at my own game, I trooped on. Digging through his desk, all I could find were amateur drawings (Things you'd find in a child going through their Emo phase's sketch book), damaged pictures of what I assumed to be his friends, and more trash. His bookshelf was filled with dystopian teen novels and Steven King, and tediously flipping through each book I couldn't find a single secret compartment. 

Bored and disappointed I made my way to the door, but just before I reached towards the handle I noticed that I'd forgotten the closet. My hoodie was covered over my face as a D.I.Y. gas mask and I was sure I'd pass out from the stench any moment now, but the refusal to fail pulled me towards the closet door. Each step I took towards the closet an almost familiar stench grew to an unbearable odor. My vision blurred with tears as I grabbed for the door and swung it open. 

The hot wave of rotting flesh knocked me to my knees and nearly forced my dinner out. The walls of the closet were grotesquely decorated with three carcasses of rabbits, their sprawled limbs nailed in place and stomachs cut open and skin flaps stabled to their sides. My eyes grew in amazement! Confusion! darting down to find an assortment of switch blades and kitchen knives and... A shoe box? 

I quickly grabbed for the box and ripped off the lid, hungering to see the contents. A couple dozen photos, each of different middle aged men sat inside. I examined one of a grey haired man, stress wrinkles plastered on his face, the eyes of a dead soul who's been working the same office job for thirty years. I flipped the photograph over and found his full name, address and phone number quickly scribbled in pen.  I picked up the other photographs and sure enough, the same information was written on the back of each one of them. 

Before I could do anything else I heard the family dog barking at the front door, signaling that Marcus was finally home. I hastily set everything back and slipped through the window. 

So many questions burrow through my brain as I type this now. So much new exciting information!

Readers, I believe now that Marcus is a lot more interesting than we'd thought him to be. A lot more trouble. 

What could he be doing with that information? What's his purpose? 

I've been sitting here, contemplating my future course of action. Twitching with anticipation to find what's going through that sadistic boy's head. 

I'll hold  back on stopping that abusive father for just a few weeks. I have to find out what Marcus is planning, I absolutely have to or else I feel as if my entire mind will liquefy in curiosity. 

Wish me luck, readers, I'll be sure to keep you posted on new information. I won't stop until I learn every small consideration of his plan. 

-Jeff the Killer, May 10th