Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned

For the first time since I came here, I've left the mansion, able to breathe fresh air and enjoy the chill of mid-autumn on my skin. The partly cloudy sky rules over us as I stand in my newly tailored outfit. The catch is that I can't leave the moat of grass between the mansion and the forest. Slenda won't allow me to get far out without being trained first; most of the other girls agreed with her, so I guess there's no helping it. I don't disagree with her choice anyway. At this stage, I'd only get in the way of the others, and I'd rather play my cards cautiously than charge in and die.

"You are no sheep, (Y/N)," Jackie starts off our training with a lecture, "You are a killer — in mind and body. You will not spare victims. Do not feel for your quarry; you will only open yourself up to danger. Someone is most dangerous when they have a knife to their throat. Even a saint would fight back."

My body tenses up, and I remember my friends, "Got it."

That couple from before are the only people I've killed. What was the reason for killing them anyway? Jackie is getting into this; today's the most I've ever heard her talk. It leads me to question whether or not she volunteered to mentor me or if Slenda assigned her personally.

Jackie notices my tension, "What?"

I turn my head to the forest, "It's that couple," I squint, "I killed them but they never raised a hand against me. Neither of them fought back. They ran."

Stepping up to me, Jackie puts her hand on my shoulder but only to turn me towards her, "Forget your kills. If you let the guilt linger, your footsteps will be heavy. The more blood you spill, the more natural murder will become. Killing someone is heartless, so you must learn to feel nothing."

Easier said than done. How will I ever get used to this? How can you get used to feeling the warmth drain from someone's body or watching their eyes lose their shine... it's a monstrous thing to "get used to."

"Show me your walk," Jackie says, getting close to me. I walk as I normally would and she nods, "Hm. You are not hopeless."

I lift an eyebrow, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Now, you are iron. Soon, you will be steel. Oh, it is Jess," Jackie welcomes Jess as she slams the front door behind her, pulling her white hood up at the touch of the wind.

Jess gives my outfit a look of disgust, "You look like an idiot."

Jackie huffs, "Pot, meet kettle. Teach him the rules."

Jess grunts and throws a knife into the grass between Jackie's feet. A warning?

"Rule one: never leave murder weapons behind. Fingerprints, body fluids, and recurring murder weapons will help investigators track you down. Rule two: mix things up. Killing the same way will let police know that you were there and not some other killer."

"Isn't rule one just common sense?" I ask.

Jess grunts, "Just stand there and smile, bitch. Let me speak. You only gotta worry about minimizing physical evidence at the murder scene because a killer's hard to find when there's no motive. Slenda already deals with that motive part by giving us random targets. Just have common sense and don't leave traces, alright?"

Jackie taps her foot, her patience running low, but I can't help but worry, "Won't the police realize that we're hiding in the forest, though? If we kill enough, won't they bring Homeland Security or the National Guard?"

Deciding to chime in, Jackie leans close to me, "This forest is an urban legend. Police do not enter. Slenda has defensive measures in place. You can leave, Jess."

Jess's demeanor shifts, "You brought me here just to talk about shit you could've told him yourself?"

Adjusting her blue mask and putting a hand into her pocket, Jackie responds, "I do not like talking."