Worthless - Jeff the killer x fem reader

chapter 3

Warning ⚠️ graphic content

Your pov

Well after changing out of that dumb dress back to my first outfit, cleaning up dinner, wrapping my arm, scrubbing the walls, and floor I had nothing left but the laundry.

I hate blood, it truly is one of the hardest things to get out of clothing. Picking up my scrub brush I continue to work on the all-white hoodie. After deciding I was done I through the hoodie and other laundry in the washer. Waking out I headed to the kitchen. There stood a figure, black hair, white skin, forever smile, and never blinking eyes.

"What's your name," Jeff asked me. I just stared at him.

"How long have you been here," he asked sounding mildly interested. I held up four fingers.

"Four years?" He asked confirming my gesture. I nodded.

"Why don't you talk," he asked in almost a mocking tone. I stiffened at the prospect of speaking.

"Speak" he demanded he had an angered aura around him. I opened my mouth but no words came out. Had my mask been off I would have looked like a fish out of the water, as I stood there frozen.

"Fine if you won't talk, then I'll make you." He gripped my arm dragging me to the room. No bigger than a broom closet, this room was awful. Slender meant it for victims, but after training the servants with it, he stopped bringing victims.

"On your knees," he said throwing me forward, "shirt off." He turned to the other wall picking out a tool. Hot irons hung on the wall along with whips and crops, anything you'd imagine to beat someone, harm them, it was there. Picking out a whip he headed back over. My shirt sat next to me back turned to him.

Jeff's Pov

I never cared enough to look at the servants, I don't still, but the sight I saw was ghastly. (y/n)'s back, shoulders, upper arms all littered with scars and burns, old, new, deep, jagged. There was not a single untouched place. Fuck slender, was she that untrainable. I circled her body her front was the same, a ghost of her past haunting her with their presence. Her forearms and hands where untouched most of her neck was fine, say for one burn mark probably from a rope.

"Take off your mask" I demanded. Circling to her back once more, I lifted the black leather in my hands. Then brought it down on her scared flesh. leaving angry red marks. Over and over I repeated the process. I didn't want her passing out, the human body can only take so much, 50 max in one sitting. At 38 I stopped and took a breath. Circling her again I saw blood trailing out of her lips. Shit, I didn't give her biting leather.

"Open your mouth," I said gruffly. She shook her head. Grabbing her face I pried her mouth open. Blood spilled out and onto our laps, her tongue, and cheeks had been bitten, her teeth gridded.

"Shit" I mumbled. Grabbing the whip I took it to her stomach a couple of times. Whip mark 46 she yelled. Scratchy, almost inaudible but still their none the less. I dropped the leather and crouched to her level.

"What?" I asked the girl. She just shook her head.

"Fine," I placed the whip back on its hook.

"Now you know to speak when I tell you." I through her shirt at her and left.