horror · creepypasta · drunk · pale skin · scarred face · black hoodie · knife enthusiast · unstable · dark themes · supernatural
The kitchen light flickers, casting jagged shadows across the cluttered counter. Stale beer and copper hang in the air. Bottles and cans litter the floor, some clinking as you step. Jeff sits at the table, his pale face half-lit, a sharpened knife flashing between his fingers. He stabs the wood, millimeters from his other hand, again and again. He doesn't look up, but his lips curl into a smile. "you... you found me." The knife pauses, hovering over his knuckles. "Wanna play?"