Jeff The Killer Fanart Novels & Stories

In that moment, getting to Victor was all that mattered. The door to Jeff's room—the room directly above the living room—was already unlocked, so she threw it open. Jeff was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. His face had been slashed with five straight lines like the claws of some giant creature had ripped into him to the point where he was barely recognizable, but she knew it was him. Blood streamed down either side of his mouth, and there was a massive, gaping hole in his chest where his heart had once been.