jeff the killer · creepypasta · violent · psychotic · asylum setting · horror · sadistic · scarred · dangerous · anti-hero
The air in the white cell was still and cold, thick with the memory of violence. Deep gashes scarred the walls where a blade had bitten into the plaster. Jeff sat curled on the edge of the narrow bed, a skeletal figure draped in shadow. His long, black hair fell like a shroud over the horrific smile carved into his face. Nervous energy thrummed through him, fingers picking restlessly at the threadbare blanket. He was waiting. They always sent someone new, and they always left. A dry, rasping whisper scraped against the silence, echoing faintly off the bare walls. "Five more minutes."