Beautiful Disaster (Jeff the Killer) [On Hiatus]

2*

     I wake up not even three hours after falling asleep, after having done so after the incident with my father. I notice that I'm still in my day clothes and I stand up to change. I take off my black skinny jeans and studded belt, my black combat boots, and I leave my Pierce the Veil shirt on. I look in the full-length mirror, which hangs on the back of my bedroom door.
     I smile as I look at my Collide With the Sky shirt, then shoot a glare at my own reflection when my eyes find their way up to my pale skin, black hair, and crimson eyes. I divert my eyes before I become too engulfed in my own self hatred. I pull on my slightly faded black pajama pants and lay back down on my bed, leaving my light on, and close my eyes and fall into my unconscious state of mind.

     I run through the forest, risking my life as I glance behind me, trying to find the silver eyes of my pursuer. I hear the sound of a small animal running over twigs and dead leaves some twenty feet away, and I look up at the canopy of dark green leaves and the branches of trees protruding from their trunks. Through the leaves, I'm able to see a few spots of the full moon's surface.
     I don't notice that I've stopped moving forward until I look back down, staring ahead of me. I hear footsteps quickly approaching. I quickly shoot a glance behind me, and see the silver eyes. I take off, running away from the luminescent eyes as they grow nearer. I can hear my own heartbeat hammering in my ears, and over the sound of that, I'm able to faintly make out my footfalls, but the steps of the being chasing me are inaudible. I risk another glance behind me, and I see nothing apart from the dirt forest floor and a few stray moonbeams.
     I turn my body back to the direction I was running in, and I see those haunting silver orbs less than an inch away from my face. I turn to run in the opposite direction only to feel the thin, muscular arm of my attacker wrap around my torso. I'm pushed to the ground, and I feel a weight land on top of me. I feel something being pushed against my throat, and with one last--

     I'm awaken from my reoccurring dream by the sound of my window sliding open with a harsh screech. I turn my head towards the window and see a male figure crawling through with some difficulty. Before he fully climbs through my fairly small window, I silently get out of bed and walk to the corner opposite of him. He looks to my bed after he stands up straight and I barely manage to remain calm when I see that his white sweatshirt is splattered with blood, both dry and still fresh. Apart from the blood-stained sweatshirt, he wears black skinny jeans, Chuck Taylors, and he wields a kitchen knife that glimmers in the light of my bedroom.
     He takes note to the fact that there is no one occupying my bed, and he looks around the room. His eyes come to rest on me, and for the first time, I see his face. His skin is nearly as white as snow, and his unblinking, wide, piercing blue eyes are rimmed with black. His hair seems to be charred black, and his smile. His smile is carved into his face, ragged on both sides.
     It takes a moment for my mind to register that he's taking long strides in my direction, and before I can even blink, he's standing in front of me, and we would be chest-to-chest if not for the fact that he's at least a foot taller than I am and I don't even clear his shoulders. He glares down at me menacingly, and the desire for blood to be shed is prominent in his eyes. I can't help but allow my eyes to roam over his face, and I realize that I actually find him somewhat... beautiful.
     I look back to his eyes, and notice that he's staring at my crimson orbs in amazement. Not into my eyes, but at them. Curiosity devours the blood lust in his eyes, and I can sense him mentally snapping himself back to his previous state. In the duration of less than a second, he has me pinned against my bedroom wall and his gleaming knife is held to my throat.
     He falters momentarily when he sees that my face holds no emotion whatsoever. He tilts his head and gives me a malevolent smile.
     He speaks. "Aren't you scared?" His voice is deep and raspy, like he's been screaming for years and has never had water. Now that he's closer to me I see that his skin holds a leather-like texture.
     He appears to be angered by the fact that I'm still standing perfectly still and staring up at him in silence, as well as by the fact that my face holds no emotion. He glares daggers into my eyes, and I can feel his gaze burning into my corneas. If looks could kill, I'd already be long gone.
     An immense amount of anger is expressed on his face and in his eyes, as he loses all patience with me and removes the knife from my throat to hold it up, preparing to plunge in into my chest. Even then, no emotion or movement comes from me.
     Suddenly, just as he begins to bring his arm down to make the final movement that would end my life, we snap our heads towards the door. We hear my father yell in response to the somewhat loud noise the man had made whilst entering my room, "Knock off all of the noise, harlot!" The man, whose name is still unknown to me, begins to grip my arm rather harshly. He leans down towards my neck, and when I begin to think that he's going to bite it, he whispers in his damaged voice.
     "I'm coming back for you. Don't think I won't." He takes long strides to my window and exits in a manner far smoother than when he was entering. I walk over to the window and I close it, locking it as well. I turn off my light, walk back over to my bed, and fall asleep effortlessly, preparing to have the exact same dream.