Creepypasta Boyfriend Scenarios

Trying to Run

Jeff the Killer:

It was a beautiful night. A full moon and a clear sky full of stars. You stared out your bedroom window at the night sky, your mind wandering. Your room was darker then it was outside, you didn't feel like turning the lights on. You didn't feel like doing anything. Nothing interested or appealed to you. That is, until you glanced down at your car. An idea. Your car- it was right there, waiting for you. It was practically beckoning you forward. Come on in, here's your way out. Here's an escape from everything.

Doubts didn't even occur to you as you slid on a pair of shoes. Where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking, how he'd feel, none of that crossed your mind.

So you certainly didn't even think of how he may have planned.

Adrenaline finally kicked in as you left your bedroom and speed walked through your home, grabbing a few key items as quickly as possible. Your keys jangled terribly loudly as you briskly walked towards your car, every shadow and every noise making your hairs stand on end. But you couldn't let things get to you like that, you had to be brave, you had to be strong. Even if it was hard. Even if it hurt.

There were a few things you didn't notice. First off, in the dark you failed to notice your slashed tires, you had hopped into the car as quickly as possible. You turned the key, turned on your headlights, looked up, and noticed the second thing. You hadn't seen Jeff standing there waiting for you.

"Fuck, fuck, shit." Your heart practically stopped at the sight of his familiar long legs and white hoodie. But you didn't stop moving, no, you put the car into reverse and stepped on it. Only for the vehicle to whine before slowly backing up. You could tell just from the feeling of the car that your tires were flat, horribly flat, you weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

And as Jeff slowly walked forward and approached your car door, you realized at the very last second your final mistake.

You had forgotten to lock the doors.

Ben Drowned:

Paranoia. It's a terrible fate to bestow upon someone. You were doubting your memory like it was a child's imagination, you had been high after all. It was probably a misunderstanding, or a joke. You were high, most likely didn't even happen. Besides, this is Ben we're talking about. Your Ben. He was a nerd, a cute silly nerd who wouldn't hurt a fly. Who do you think you are, being suspicious of him like this?

But you remembered, you remembered him saying it. You knew it for sure, he said he killed people. And who says he's incapable of it? You didn't even know what he was, he wasn't human that's for sure. He had no eyes, he cried blood, he crawled out of televisions, how the hell do you know what he does in his spare time? How the hell do you know?

You couldn't take it anymore. You reached for your cellphone and hesitated only for a moment before dialing 911. Pressing the phone to your ear as tears filled your eyes, you barely noted the odd amount of time it was taking for them to answer the phone before someone answered. "911, what is your emergency?" A kind, comforting woman answered.

"I-I don't know- someone I know, he said he-he kills people and- and-" Your voice hitched.

"Is this person with you right now?" She asked.

"I don't know!" You cried, eyes darting around your room. "I-I don't know . . . maybe? But I don't think so . . . I don't think so, no."

"Are you sure about that, Y/N?"

"I-I don't know, I don't know, I'm not sure, I'm-I'm . . . I'm . . ."

Wait.

What did she just say?