Aren't I Beautiful?- Jeff the Killer fan fiction

Chapter 7

I woke up the next day with clammy eyes- I hadn't even opened them, but the way the darkness was distorted in weird swirls told me my eyelids were slightly wet, and this of course reminded me of the night before. Upon remembering the night before, I remembered what was to happen today.

I was going to die.

I was going to die in a most horrific way if Jeff got his own way. He'd probably cut my tonguue out and make me eat it or something. Or maybe he'd inflict the pain he went through onto me: Cover me in alcohol and bleach and set me on fire.

Stop thinnking about this Luna, don't let him get the better of you, don't give him what he wants.

I mustered the strength to open my eyes. I was expecting Jeff to be sitting on the end of my bed playing with his knife, waiting for my awakening. Instead he was sprawled out next to me, his head resting on one arm, the other tucked away in his hoodie pocket. He wasn't even holding his knife, it was on the bedside table next to him.

Only in the fresh morning air, did I realise how truly awful he smelt- of blood and rot. I wrinkled my nose at this and yawned, again glancing at Jeff. I was startled to see he was awake yet unmoving, his eyes open. Then I remembered his lack of eyelids and noticed that his eyes were high in his sockets and looked as if there was a glaze over them- apparently, somehow, he was asleep.

I hung my feet over the edge of my bed, the cold biting at them, and got up, lunging for my dressing gown in the cold November morning. I walked over to the window to open the curtains, but I stopped half way there. For some reasoon I couldn't stop looking at Jeff. He looked so innocent, asleep in my bed. I felt compelled to wake him, but reasserted myself.

This guy said he's going to kill you. Get a grip Luna.

I drew the curtains and looked out at the world beyond. Though it was chilly, the sun was shining on the frost. For once the forest next door didn't look frightening, and I felt an urge to return my childhood, build  a treehouse and play in it all day.

"Why is it so bright?" a hoarse voice asked from behind me.

I turned round and had to stifle laughter. Clearly Jeff wasn't a morning person. His hair was even wilder than it normally was, his eyes were red and watery and his mouth looked dry. I couldn't help but wonder how painful the gauges in his cheeks were.

"Because its morning!" I retorted, though in a polite and smiley manner.

"Morning is stupid."

Jeff's remark didn't add to the conversation, and didn't really mean anything either and I wondered why he said it. Then again this was Jeff, a creature of the night, the killer in the dark.

"No it's not. Morning is the start of the day, and the end of the night. Its a beautiful midpoint between the two."

"If I had my way, the world would be in eternal darkness..." Jeff trailed off, stretching his arms out far infront of him and yawning. As I heard the click of his knuckles and other arm joints, and I saw the cuts in his cheeks stretch I couldn't help wincning.

"You're not a morning person." It was a question, but instead sounded like a statement.

Jeff looked into my eyes. I could feel him penetrating my soul. It was horrible. For a moment I was lost in those wild, untamable eyes and I felt his pain, his sorrow. In truth he was just a lost boy. Maybe he killed because he was jealous of other people's easy lives, that they could face the world everyday, whilst he hid in the shadows.

He must have felt that I was beginninig to understand him, as he broke the eye contact and looked down at his knife. He stood up and picked it up, tossing it  around in his hand. Without warning he held it firmly and slit the crease of his left hand. I winced in shock and horror, covering my mouth with my hands. I felt the pain myself in my left hand, though I can only guess it was nothing like what he must be feeling. In an instance he stepped close to me, so close I could smell the fresh blood, and feel his breath on my forehead.

I was scared out of my mind. Was this it? My last moment? I was stupid. For a moment I thought I was safe. Jeff had almost seemed like a normal person this morning. But his knife stayed loose in his right hand, which was down by his side.

He raised his bleeding hand up to show me, then wiped it over my cheek.  I felt the warm blood dripping on my cheek and as it dried it became slightly uncomfortable.

"You think you understand?"  Jeff whispered, unmoving, keeping his eyes fixated on mine.

Could this guy read minds?

"You will never understand the pain and discomfort I have been through, that I go through everyday of my life."

My eyes dropped to the ground. He scoffed and stepped back, his arms stretched out at either side  of him. He looked up beyond the ceiling.

"Look at what I am."

He  inhaled angrily and grabbed my chin, forcing it upwards.

"I said," he started, directing this towards me this time, "look at what I am! I was a schoolboy with the dream of becoming a baseball player."

Does he give all his murder victims this big "my life sucks" speech?

"But no. Everything had to be screwed up. He... he had to come along and fuck everything up. Just a regular bully, and his friends, but no from that minute... my life was over..." he looked into my eyes earnestly.

In truth I wanted to just hug him, tell him that it would all be better, like I would with any other person. But Jeff wasn't any other person. I'm not sure he was even human anymore, he certainly had a very high pain tolerance.

"The burning was excrutiating, but my new face was beautiful. I wanted to smile all the time. Now I do. My parents didn't like the person I'd become. I had no choice, no choice!" He  was almost pleading with me now, as if he was seeking my forgiveness.

"You can stop! You know you can stop what you do! Escape to somewhere peaceful, somewhere where your soul can be at peace... you don't have to do this..." I was pleading with him now. MY persuading skills could save my life, and many other lives. Jeff seemed emotionally compromised at the moment. Now was as good a time as any to bargain for my life.

"No!" he seemed angry now, "You don't understand, I can't. Every time I kill I feel like this was my destiny, like this was what I was supposed to do. Then I don't feel so guilty for all the thins I've done, I don't feel like I've missed out on the life I was supposed to have, because this is the life I was supposed to have." he was beginning to break, I could feel it, there was no definition between his anger and sadness.

"No one is supposed to kill!" I was getting frustrated now. Jeff was out of order to suppose his cruel doings was thee word of God or something. Though, he seemed hurt by what I had said. He looked into my eyees, frowning, though he was searching for a lost remnant of his own soul in mine. He turned his head away and jumped onto the windowsil, silently slithering through the gap between winidow and pane. And just like that he was gone.