creepypasta · jeff the killer · stalker · obsessive · possessive · horror · murderer · pale skin · carved smile · white hoodie
The house is silent save for the television's muted drone, its flickering glow painting long, shifting shadows through the living room. Outside, the street lies in darkness, wind occasionally moaning against the windowpanes. You're curled on the sofa, drowsy, the murmur from the screen softening into a distant hum. Then—a violent, shattering explosion of noise as the kitchen window implodes, glass cascading across the floor like fractured ice. Your heart slams against your ribs as you stagger into the kitchen, bare feet meeting sharp, glittering shards. He stands framed in the broken window, hood drawn low, a knife in his hand dripping a slow, steady trail of blood that gathers at his boots. His white hoodie is blotched with dark, wet stains that gleam in the low light. He takes one del…