A Little Warmth (Jeff the Killer x Reader) short story

chapter three

You groaned in frustration and slammed the paintbrush and palette on a nearby table. Closing your eyes and heaving a sigh, you ran your hands through your hair. You stood momentarily with your eyes closed before your hands dropped to your sides. When you reopened your eyes, you spotted a box of cigarettes on the messy pile on the table. On impulse, your hands reached out and desperately tore at the box.

The cold night air nipped at your skin as you stood outside your apartment balcony. Taking a drag on the cigarette, you rested your arms on the metal railing and observed the night city scenery. For the most part, the part of the city you were in was calm. Your eyes watered as you sighed deeply. Living off your paintings wasn't a good income. Getting them accepted into art exhibitions and gaining money from it became challenging. It seemed as if all the sleepless nights you had spent creating those paintings had gone to waste. Your effort was worth nothing.

Yawning, you rubbed your tired eyes. A strange movement caught your attention. It may have been because you were sleepy, but you thought you saw a shadow slip into an alleyway. Rubbing your eyes again, you leaned over the railing to peer at the dark street. The moon shone dimly over the buildings as you watched for any movements hidden in the shadows. After squinting momentarily, your eyes hurt, and you stood straight.

Shaking your head, you decided it was most likely hallucinations due to the lack of sleep. When you were about to head back inside, you felt a prickling at the back of your neck, like eyes on you. You whipped your head back to the street again but saw no one.

Great, You thought. I've gone insane now.

You tossed and turned in bed, not forgetting the uneasy feeling of someone watching you. Every time you fell asleep, you had nightmares of shadowy figures, one of them being familiar. A grin you knew you had seen before but did not remember where.

You decided you weren't going to get much sleep that night. Standing from bed, you walked into the living room, and your eyes grazed over the mess. Paintbrushes, canvases, and buckets of paint sit atop every surface, not a single free space.

After graduating high school, you did not lose a moment at home. Immediately after arriving home from boarding school, you went to a university to pursue an art degree. Now, you were a young adult living alone, away from her dysfunctional family.

Despite following your dream of becoming an artist, your paintings didn't sell well. Gruesome things did not appeal to most people.

A scratching noise made your head turn, coming from the balcony door. The white curtains swayed gently; shadows seemed to mix in with the moonlight. You heard the scratching noise again, nails gliding across glass windows. In the blink of an eye, you saw a shadowy figure standing on the other side of the door. In an instant, it was gone. Stumbling back, you steadied yourself against the wall. Your breaths became irregular and ragged as you tried to regain your composure.

What the hell was that?

Rushing into the kitchen, you opened a drawer and took out a knife. Even though you weren't great at stabbing, it was at least something to defend yourself from potential danger. With trembling hands, you gripped the knife as you reached the balcony door.

Your hand came in contact with the door knob as you watched through the glass door for the shadow, but it wasn't there. Carefully, you edged open the door and stepped out onto the balcony. Your hand came down to rest at your side, your fingertips grazing the pointy tip of the knife.

Strange...I thought I had seen something.

"Well, it certainly has been a while."

A voice spoke out from behind you, and you swung around to face a tall and lean man perching on the balcony railing like a cat. You couldn't hide the trembling of your hand as you pointed the knife tip at him.

He stayed motionless in his position, watching you. The lack of light made it difficult for you to see his face. Your breathing quickened, and panic started to build up inside of you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you barely choked out a sentence.

"Don't-"

The stranger scoffed, interrupting you.

"You don't remember me?" His voice was low, but you couldn't deny that the slight intonation at the end of his sentence confused you. Who was this guy?

You opened your mouth, but confusion dazed you, and you didn't utter a word.

Sighing heavily, the stranger jumped down from the railing as he now stood and, with slow steps, came closer to you. Thinking he was cornering you, you stepped back until your lower back hit the frigid metal; the railing didn't permit you to step back anymore.

He now stood before you menacingly, and your eyes widened when you saw his attire. At first glance, it was regular everyday clothes, but the white hoodie was stained with crimson liquid that could not be anything other than blood. You flinched with his hand movements. He paused, seemingly confused at your reactions, before pulling the hood off his head revealing his face.

You dropped the knife upon laying eyes on the now familiar face. You recognized the grin that had plagued your nightmares, but now, it was scarred. The scar started at the corners of his lips and stretched upwards—dried blood showing through the raised scar.

His hand reached out, and you saw his skin was pale— probably the palest person you've ever seen.

He held your hand down gingerly, and your body didn't react as it should have. Staying calm, your eyes slowly traveled up his body until your gaze reached his face. Instead of just glancing over his features, you took them in.

"You... really don't remember me?" Why was it that he sounded almost hurt?

When you met his eyes you stumbled in shock, eyes that had a deranged look and uneven black hair.

Seeing the realization in your eyes he smirked, the scarline making his smile appear wider.