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

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6. Teardrops On My Guitar...

went to the bar my dad always went to. Brother Tuck's. It's an older bar. The air smells like a mix of sweat socks (almost the way a gym would smell...), cheap perfume, dried blood, cum, alcohol (lots of it), and cheap cigars, not to mention it has a smoky atmosphere. I walked into a tall muscular dude upon entering. 

"Sorry I was just--"

"Aren't you a little young to be in here?" He asked just as I saw a stripper holding a tray and bringing it to a table. I shielded my eyes. It's a general tick of mine now since my mom used to do that all the time when dad was watching his pornos. 

"Yes but I am looking for my father. I--" 

"Do you have a picture?" I showed him a picture from my phone. Just then he whistled and these two girls started walking over and I hear,

"HEY DOUG! What's the big idea!!" From somewhere in the dim lights and fog. Just then I saw my dad emerge from it.

"This girl was looking for you, she sad she's your daughter...." 

"Yes she is. What's wrong Anya, come sit down." I sat on a bar stool next to him. 

"Its momma, she's dead...." I proceeded to tell him the story of the man who murdered my mother but he thought I was joking and it was a nightmare. 

"Let's go home. I assure you, your mother is just fine. You just had--" 

"No. We can't go back there!" I said with tears in my eyes. "You can't go back there..." He looked at me sternly and said,

"Let's go, Anya." He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the car. 

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