Committed (Jeff the killer fanfic)

Chapter 1

Jess's POV 

I sighed heavily as I walked out of my house on my way to school, at 7:00 in the morning. I have to wake up at 6:00 because it takes me an hour to get ready, and my school is a half hour walk from my house. 

It was cold, there was fog surrounding everything, and I couldn't see anything unless I walked right up to it. This should be fun. 

Perfect weather for Jeff to hide and jump out at his enemies. Penelope told me. 

I was currently in my own personality, but my other ones could talk to me inside my head. Penelope is my fangirl personality. She turns everything, and I mean EVERYTHING into something related to Jeff. 

Jeff the killer, my hero. Not that I looked up to him, killing people is most certainly wrong, but he saved me. My double personalities were starting to become too much for me, and I was going to kill myself, but my sister had told me about some website she assumed I would like, and so I looked it up. 

Creepypasta. The first ever creepypasta I read was Jeff the killer. He was amazing, he's my everything, and from then on I would look to him whenever I was feeling down. 

I always have to be careful about how much I read though, otherwise Simon might come out and go on a killing rampage. Simon is my murderous personality. He almost never comes out, but if he does, it won't end well. 

He talks to me inside my head often. Telling me how good some people would look with their blood gushing all over the walls, or how they should smile more, and that I can make them. Just a minor surgery, that's all. 

I don't mind him talking though, I don't tell him to go away. I just remind myself that I'm thinking like Jeff, and I'm one step closer to becoming my idol. 

I'm not afraid to kill people, the thought doesn't even scare me. But I won't do it on my own will. I am, however, afraid of WHO I'll kill. 

I love my mom, and I would never want to kill her, but she'd be the closest. I don't care so much for my dad, but he's still my father. He doesn't live here though, he lives far away in another city that I'm not aware of. 

And my sister. I love my sister. She's the only friend I have, the only one that seems to understand me, or at least accept me. 

Acceptance. That's a hard thing for me to wrap my brain around for some reason. I don't accept people, mainly because they don't accept me. I end up daydreaming about me stabbing everyone dead, their blood soaking into my pure white hoodie, which has some dirt stains because I wear it all the time. I've been meaning to wash it, I just never want to take it off. 

My black yoga pants are dragging on the ground, falling under my black sneakers as I walk, so I pull them up. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket, not expecting notifications of any kind, but there is a few from Instagram. 

I have a fanpage for creepypasta that has about 5K. It's called Jeffs_my_meth, because it kind of rymes, and it was supposed to imply that he's my addiction. 

I deleted my main account a while ago, because I only had like 20 followers and I never even used it. I spent all my time on my fan account. 

I take a quick selfie and upload it. I lable it "Walking to school, gonna be a boring day." 

I look at the picture of me. My jett black hair is sticking out of my hood, and hanging down in my face. My hair is naturally brunette, but I continually dye it to be black.

My black contacts do their job and make my eyes look black, sickeningly black, along with my black eye makeup circling around my eyes. My eyes are actually hazel, so the color is easy to hide under the contacts. Not very light, but not very dark either. 

My skin is pale, except for my rosy cheeks, from the cold. And finally, my mouth has a wide smile plastered on, even though I'm not smiling. 

I had attempted to cut open my cheeks, to forever smile like Jeff, but the pain was too much for me, so I stopped. I managed to cut small corners from my mouth, so my smile was a bit wider. I use blood red lipstick to make a wide smile across my cheeks, so it does look like I'm always smiling. 

Although, it's not a happy smile. It's more of a creepy smile than anything else. I hate people to see me smile, because I never do it, because I'm never happy. Why? Well, what's the point of happiness, only to have it ripped away from you later? 

Jamie, my hysterical and cheerful personality is always happy, but she doesn't come out very often. And when she does, I only shove her back in. Being happy... I just don't see any point. The only thing that makes me smile the slightest is when I read Creepypasta. 

Reading about other people's hauntings or suffering makes me stable inside, for some weird reason. Is that my own self, or just another personality? 

Philip is my gloomy and depressed personality. He's always welcome, although he always makes me depressed as shit. It really helps me out when I want to kill someone though. 

I finally arrive at school, only to be late, again. I sit in my seat quietly, and wait for my boring day to get itself over with. 

Only 5 and a half more hours! Jamie cheers inside my head, being super freaking annoying. 

Jamie, shut up! 

Yes, can't you see the poor girl is having a rough time? Philip says. 

I wonder what your head would look like on a stick. Simon says. 

That's it, I'm out of here! Jamie exclaims, pushing herself inside me so she can be out in the open. 

Oh no, I attempt to shove her back in, but this time she isn't having it. She's in the outside world. 

Jaimie! Come back! I scream inside my own head, but she doesn't pay any attention. She's too busy giggling and twirling my hair while staring at a blonde dude across the room, from my body.

I sigh in defeat, looking out the window to see the fog is now gone. But that's not all I see. 

I blink, and look out the window once again, but what I saw there before is no longer there. 

I could have sworn I saw a pair of dark eyes looking through the window, at me, smiling.