To Live without Fear [Jeff the KillerxReader]

4

Almost. Almost...almost got it....There. Jeff had to supress a triumphant cry as he finally finished pushing his shoe and sock off his foot. An incredibly and annoyingly difficult task when you can't use your hands. Speaking of his hands, they were almost completely numb after hours tied above his head. But he planned on changing that soon.

The Killer shifted his weight back as much as he could, leaning heavily against the bedpost. It dug in between his shoulderblades and his lower back pressed uncomfortably against the floor, but his legs could now reach a little higher. With a some effort, Jeff stretched his bare foot up to his binds. After a few tries at jabbing his big toe under the tightly wound bands, he finally wedged it into a gap by his wrist. The killer pushed it in as far as he could. He had never been so uncomfortable in his life. That motherfucking bitch was going to die veery, veeeeery slowly.

After a lot of wriggling, yanking, quiet swearing, and nearly dislocating his wrist, Jeff finally got one hand free. Victory was his.

The teen sat up and untied his other hand. He rubbed his sore wrists, now reddish purple and striped with the imprints of the hairbands. Jeff stood up and stretched out his sore muscles. Now to get his revenge.

Jeff the Killer was already beginning to fantasize about killing you as he reached into his hoodie pocket for his knife. His reverie came to an abrupt end when his hand was met by an empty pocket.

"What the....." Jeff muttered. He turned and checked the floor where he was sitting. No knife. ".....hell..." He scanned the rest of the room for its familiar gleam. ".....fucking...." He checked the drawers. Under the bed. In the closet. The knife was nowhere to be found. "Shit."

That meant she had it. Jeff pondered going in unarmed and trying to regain his trusty blade. No. Definitely not. He decided. That punch was not just an adrenaline rush or pure luck. (Y/N) was a capable fighter. Jeff would end up tied to the bedpost again. Just then Jeff heard the rustle of bedsheets in the other room. The noise from his search must have woken her up. Jeff heard the floor creak underneath her as she got out of the bed. He had to act fast.

With one bare foot, no weapon and a bruised pride that was going to STING in the morning, Jeff dashed down the hall and stairs with no concern for stealth anymore. He could hear (y/n)'s footsteps as she pursued him. But Jeff had gotten just enough of a head start to make it out the backdoor, and employ his excellent hiding skills to melt into her backyard. After (y/n) had decided Jeff was long gone, and chasing an unknown killer down the block in her pajamas was by far not worth it, she backed into her house and locked the door behind her.

As Jeff crawled over the fence, he cast a glance back at (y/n)'s house. Don't think this is over, tough girl. Jeff thought, I'm coming back for that knife. And when I do....

A dog started barking at him from a neighbor's yard. A few windows lit up. Jeff looked at (y/n)'s house one last tome before dropping onto the other side and the fence and running off into the moonless night.