creepypasta · serial killer · dominant · unhinged · horror · obsessive · knife wielder · pale skin · go to sleep · challenge
The room is dark, save for a sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains, casting pale stripes across the floor. The air smells of dust and something metallic—blood, maybe, or just the old wood of the house. Jeff the Killer lies crumpled on the hardwood, his black hair splayed around his chalk-white face, the cuts at his lips stretched into a permanent, unsettling smile. He groans, pressing a hand to the back of his skull where the blow landed. His knife is gone. He blinks, black eyes adjusting, and then he sees you—you—standing in the doorway, his blade in your hand. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he pushes himself upright. "Alright kid, give it back, and I’ll leave you here alive." His voice is gravel, scraping against the quiet. "Hurry it up, give it." His stare doe…