Not What it Seems - A Jeff the Killer Fanfic

Reflections

I felt someone sitting at the edge of my bed and as my eyes adjusted the light, I came to see who it was.

"Why do you still have your outwear clothes on you?", she suspiciously asked.

I mumbled some inaudible nonsense about something neither me or my mom could comprehend. It was more of a tired and exhausting groan if anything else. My body felt heavy and I felt really warm and sweaty, probably because I slept with so many layers of clothing on. My mom gave me a worried look and placed her hand on my forehead.

"Darling, you're burning up! I'll help you take the outerwear off and while you go and take a bath, I'll go and make you some soup and tea. Sounds good?".

I slowly nodded as she helped me stand up, which only resulted in me feeling dizzy. As she held all of my clothing, she also led me to the bathroom and poured up some water in the bathtub.

"Do you want me to bring in a chair for you to sit in, in case you pass out?".

I shook my head and slightly laughed.

"It's okay but thanks anyway".

I closed the door and was left with just me and my thoughts and a now half-empty bathtub. I decided to wash my face with cold water to wake me up and as I looked into the mirror, I saw a minor wound on my throat. Wondering how it got there but not seeming to remember when I got it, I shrugged and ignored it as I turned off the water to the hot tub. 

After carefully stepping inside the hot water, I finally relaxed and started thinking. Thinking about the events of yesterday. How everyone in my family was enjoying themselves in the kitchen, eating and drinking, while I spent most of the time in my grandmother's living room, planning. 

Planning my future and life. Now when I'm 21, I need to find myself and think more about responsibilities that I've never had the time to think about before. Especially when I have to deal with other things such as my anxiety. How will that affect me when I move out or when I decide to get a job.

I'm afraid that I won't succeed in life sometimes and the only thing I have with me when graduating is my somewhat decent grades and my artistic talent. I love painting and drawing, just mainly creating something is satisfying and fun enough for me that I would love to make a living out of it. I have no clue how hard it is to become an artist and make a living out of it. You need luck and lots of experience to live off it, right? That's what I've heard at least.

Art and my family are the main reasons as to why I haven't done anything stupid. I also have friends but with me having trust issues, it's hard knowing if they even like me at this point.

A bang on the door and my eyes fluttered open with my heart almost pounding right out of my chest. I shifted uncomfortably as I yelled at mom.

"Yes?"

"You've been sitting there for almost 40 minutes now. I just wondered if you were still alive", she laughed out.

I sunk into the bathtub. Has it already gone 40 minutes?

"I'll be out in a minute", I replied as I got up and quickly grabbed a towel to dry myself off.

I dried my hair while looking at myself in the mirror. My nose was all red and my eyes had big bags underneath, making me look like a wandering corpse. As I kept analyzing my body, my eyes wandered off to the same wound my eyes had sat their focus on before. Then I noticed that my wrists were somewhat swollen and hid a tint of a blue shade, presumably bruises. Invisible question marks flew around my head as to how I could've gotten the bruises and the wound. Another knock, although less loud this time.

"Your bowl of soup and a big cup of tea is set on your nightstand, honey".

I thanked mom while stepping out of the bathroom and entered my room where I was met with a wonderful scent of chicken soup and ginger tea. As I put on some oversized pajamas and hopped into bed, I picked up the smoking hot cup of tea and took a few sips before feeling sleepy, even though I must've probably slept for at least 12 hours.

 I had no idea at what time I came home last night and I had no memory of me walking home at all. I tried to recall if I ever drank anything last night but my mom would've probably been pissed at me if that would be the case. Or maybe not. I mean, I'm sick and mom isn't that type of person to criticize my behavior while I was at my worst. If I drank last night, she'll probably scold me tomorrow or whenever I start to feel somewhat better. 

As my eyelids started to slowly drop and cover my sight, I gradually drifted off to dreamland, where I met my weirdly played out thoughts and fantasies. I felt someone hold me and stroke my hair carefully as if playing with it. I slightly giggled and sighed out in relief. It felt so comfortable and I felt so safe. Then something sharp left my throat and I opened my eyes in surprise.

I carefully caressed my throat and felt the texture of coagulated blood. It bothered me not knowing how it got there, as well as when it got there. What bothered me, even more, was that it bothered me so much. Why couldn't I just move on and not think about it? Sure, I was curious but it's just a wound. Maybe I just scraped something sharp over it while not noticing. 

The wound stung by only slightly touching it, making me beyond confused and curious. It made me suspicious more than anything else. I looked down at the bedsheets, not knowing what to think about next. I felt empty. Maybe it's because I'm sick or it's just my mind playing games with me as usual.

I decided to grab my big bowl of soup to get some energy back, as well as taking big slurps from the ginger tea. The soup had gotten slightly cold but it was edible. Finishing it within 5 minutes made me realize that I was starving but at the same time, I had no appetite, which only made it frustrating. 

Why did I have to become sick the day after Christmas? The day when I was supposed to see him.

...

Everything just came clear to me. He used a knife on me, he held me down with a hard grasp by my wrists, we were outside for hours. He also said he would see me tomorrow, yesterday. Meaning he's supposed to be here today. But how? It's not like my mom would recognize him as one of my friends, we just met yesterday? Is he waiting for me somewhere? I placed my teacup on the nightstand as I stepped away from the bed and over to my closet.

 It's not like I wanted him to see me in this state, I wanted to look somewhat presentable, sort of like yesterday. As I opened the closet door, I let out a scream as I saw an arm reaching out from it. A figure stepped out from it and that's when I realized-

"Jeff?", I silently hissed out.

A/N

A shorter chapter this time. There isn't much to do when you're sick. Speaking of, Eli's not the only one who's sick :))) (yes it me)

ALSO?? THis fanfic is already gaining attention/notoriety and it's currently ranked #8 out of 226 stories in #gotosleep.

H O W?

But thank you for enjoying my content. I will definitely put sweat and tears into this project whenever I got the spare time to do so, just for yall to have a good and suspenseful read uwu