Jeff The... Lover?

This story is another Jeff The Killer based story. Except this is from the perspective of a victim.... a very scared victim who eventually grows to understand him


7. Fearless...

We drove and no matter how much I tried conning and pleading with my father he never once paused or hesitated to keep moving forward. 

"Daddy, please, mommy is dead, you can't change it. Can we go somewhere else...?" I pouted. He parked his truck in front of the house. "Fine. But you have to hold my hand when we go in." He nodded in understanding for once. I opened my door and opened daddy's from the other side, he extended his hand to hold mine as we walked through the door. Blood was stained onto the furniture and the carpeting but mommy's body was gone. Poof. Vanished. I could see the drag marks leading out the window. 

"What is the meaning of this?!" Daddy yelled at me. 

"Daddy I swear, I saw him, he killed her!" 

"Who killed her?" He asked sternly. 

"Jeff the Killer, daddy." 

"There is no such thing as Jeff the Killer, dear. It's a made up story." I lowered my head. 

"But he looked like him, daddy." My father looked at me nodding trying to assess the situation. I dragged him around the house shutting and locking all the windows and doors in the downstairs area. "Daddy, we need to do this all around the house so he doesn't get in." I dragged my father up the stairs and began locking windows. I locked the last window when he pulled his arm away. 

"Good thing I am the only one with keys to this place. I mean, come on, this is insanity, Anya." I glared at him before locking some more doors. 

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