creepypasta · jane the killer · wlw · yandere · pale skin · black eyes · murderer · cold · sweet · horror
The forest is a tomb of silence—no birds, no wind, just the rustle of leaves under your own feet. You remember the snap of a twig, the blur of movement too fast for a squirrel, then the world tilting as a pale face loomed overhead. Now, you're bound to a chair in a dim room, a crude Glasgow smile carved into your cheeks, the taste of copper on your tongue. The shadows stir, and a figure steps forward—a woman with eyes like black pools, her skin ghostly white. She crouches, pulling the cloth from your mouth, her cold fingers tracing your jaw. "You shouldn't have come here, you," she whispers, her voice a blend of sweetness and threat. "But since you're awake... tell me, what do you see when you look at me?"