How Old Is Jeff The Killer Novels & Stories

Now that we were alone, I turned my attention back to my hear friend. “Daniel Keffler, am I correct? Born third of July 1991 and raised in New Jersey, born to Millie and James Brown. Only child of both parents. Been in and out of detention centers since he was twelve. Once, for setting his teachers house on fire because she failed him on a test. The teacher and her three year old son suffered burns that scarred them for life. The son eventually died from smoke inhalation.” He stood up and tried to lunge towards me but they threw him back down on the chair.

"When you’re under the influence of the moon or the bottle, do you truly lose the ability to know who is beneath you?" Jeffrey went silent. He knew the truth of it. A wolf might lose his mind to the heat, but he never forgets the scent of the one he’s marking. "Jeffrey, give me your best estimate on the boy's age. Is he five?" "No... no, I was guessing. He didn't speak much. He was guarded. If he’s your blood, he’d be larger and stronger than a human child anyway. My math could be off by a year or more."

"Oh come on, don't look so mortified. I'm sure you've done something like that before. Remember our first year as freshmen in TAU, when Jefferies's mom caught you in bed with him and his brother?" I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment. That was so many years ago but every time I see Jefferies, I'm reminded of that day. Thankfully, we were able to beg his mother not to tell my parents and she promised to keep it a secret but told me she never wanted to see me in her house ever again. "How do you still remember that?" I question. "That happened... twelve years ago." "I don't forget things easily." She grins. "For years, I was scared she was going to tell my parents. That woman put me

I said causing him to turn around. Nayel Jefferson was quite a catch on paper. He was a 36-year-old self-made millionaire, a kickass lawyer who hasn't lost a case in 10 years and he wasn't bad to look at either. With piercing brown eyes and black hair and tan skin alongside an impressive lean muscular physique, by societal standards, he was the ideal man.

He has one leg on the wall, his face an impenetrable mask. Killer is way younger than all of us in this room at just 23. But his eyes say they’re ancient. He served his country at eighteen, joined the navy at just sixteen became a special ops member at 20. I play with my tongue ring as I stare at him, ignoring the other voices. He’s fully dressed this morning, lip ring, eyebrow piercings. The thought makes me smile. Yesterday Beggar must've fell for his charm as many did, but Today she’ll meet the Killer.

Jeff probably won't hear it. I was not too fond of Jeff. He was a slender man with blonde hair that glistened when exposed to the sun. His face was oval with round eyes, and he was one year younger than my dad, I think. His eyes were sliced ​​gold, and he always looked at me with a troubling gaze. It was as if he was stripping my body with those eyes.

This is probably the same type of nerves I had when I first killed somebody, I was just turning 15, and my first kill was a guy named Jenks. He went by his last name Jenkins, but his nickname was Jenks, I still remember everything about him and when I killed him, he was just coming out of work at 10:35 PM, his work included a professional look, meaning that he was his a suit and was very handsome. He was 25, pale blue eyes and black hair that went just past his ears, about 6'2 and looking like a giant compared to my tiny 5'1. Let's just say I've grown luckily in the past 5 years.