Knife Play (Jeff The Killer)

V

"All psychopaths tell lies. It is as natural for them as breathing. Their lies are often outrageous, but made believable by their ability to appear sincere" – Rick Atherton

I slowly turn around, coming face to face with the demon I'd hoped never to see again. He has his knife back in his hand, balancing the tip of it on his index finger with a taunting smirk as if to say

'I found your ass, any last words?'

I glare at him, grasping the towel with one hand to avoid it falling

"Ah so we're not just a killer now, but a pervert too?" I ask, placing a smile on my face to put on the exterior that I'm not screaming for my life inside.

Jeff chuckles, his eye twitching slightly as he takes a step towards me "Darling if I was that desperate I would've gotten in that shower with you" He throws his knife up in the air before catching it at its handle and pointing the blade towards me "But enough of the small talk"

"Sad" I muse, taking a step back "I was quite enjoying it" I eye the knife cautiously, knowing that if I back up much more I'm going to hit a wall and be an easier target than I already am. He advances towards me with a maddening grin, his cut out smile seeming to stretch further across his face as he comes closer. I realise he's not going to respond to me before glancing over at my bed, which I could easily jump on and get my ass out.

Move I plead with myself, backing up further MOVE! I suddenly feel my back hit a wall, a small yelp of betrayal escapes me, as well as a strong sense of déjà vu. Damn mind that won't actually make me move no matter how hard I scream it inside.

Jeff cackles, a hint of a giggle remaining inside of it. Only a psycho could make such a tone.

"Well this cat and mouse chase has been fun, Kitten" Jeff reaches me, his eyes wide and lust filled. He's clearly ready to see my blood pour out onto the carpet so he can sit in glee, watching his latest kill wriggle around like a fish out of water, desperately trying to hang onto life.

He places his free arm just above my head, his breath hitting my face, forcing me to grimace.

Smells like death.

Jeff starts to drag his knife up my outer thigh. I shiver, feeling the cool metal against my exposed skin. Damn this short towel.

Will people care? I ponder for a moment as Jeffs knife traces the outline of my ribcage, pressing just hard enough so I can feel the blade through the fluffy towel. It's not exactly as if many people like me. I scare people, and that's the only reason they tend to follow me. Because it's better to side with the violent girl than face her fury, right?

I glance up at Jeff, a smile suddenly gracing my face "Go ahead" I say simply "Put me to sleep"

He pauses, staring at me unblinkingly. He suddenly lurches his knife above his head, positioning it to plunge into my heart. My eyes wander to it. Jeffs' hand clutches it tightly, it shaking violently as he goes to thrust it into my chest. I close my eyes and brace myself for the fate I could never really escape. I feel a small gust of air pass my face which I assume to be Jeffs knife on its way to stab me. You know, the usual.

But my fate never comes. My eyes open on their own accord after a moment of silence, only to see Jeffs knife millimetres away from where my heart would be placed. I stare back at him with furrowed eyebrows and questioning eyes.

He doesn't say a word, only continuing to stare at my chest, which would be highly inappropriate if this wasn't a serial killer who apparently had no sex drive doing so.

My eyes find his. They look pained, and I see a glimmer of sweat forming on his forehead, his eyebrows are knitted together and the tip of his tongue sticks out between his lips. His strained expression puzzled me a lot. This wasn't supposed to be hard for him. He wasn't human, he didn't have the same emotions, did he?