Jeff The Killer Original Image Novels & Stories

He supported my back with a pillow. Ray sighed deeply and lowered his head. “Why is all this happening?” Sighs. “Ray, it’s Jeff. Have you arrested him? I told you he was at the funeral home, but you didn’t believe me and now he…” “What’s that?” He interrupted me. “Jeff, of course. He was the one who stabbed me, he is after my life, Ray. Please help me.” To my surprise, he chuckled and shook his head. “What is wrong with you, Ray? Didn’t you hear what I was saying?”

I’m carrying his baby, and I know how much he loves it. If anyone wants me dead, it’s f*cking Freya, but this was too far. “If I ever get out of this, I’m killing her for good. And I’m doing it myself to be very sure she never gets a chance to come back to life to hurt me.” I thought to myself as I managed to scan the room. My head throbbed, and my vision blurred momentarily before clearing enough to recognize the figure sitting in front of me. Jeff. At first, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me. It couldn’t have been Jeff that I saw but when I looked again, my doubt was cleared. It was really Jeff.

At the apartment that late evening after she had had a chat with Mickey, Jessica decided to dive herself into the courses of the butcher case that as defined to her, they were unrealistic. She opened the first and at the front page where the supposed victims who were more of reason to count if ever life mattered to someone. At the very next page where a couples of pictures containing the killer’s notes that where mainly describing acts of justices. The first image had been written with blood in the midst of the dead four people and clearly read. WE SHALL SERVE THEM WITH BLOOD JUST AS THEY DO. The next image was vividly containing the back of the dead guy’s wrist cut out with a word justice.

“I’ll take my chances.” Blake raised an eyebrow, clearly testing him. Jeff shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back like he was cool as ever, even though I could tell the nerves were still bubbling underneath. “I’m a good guy,” he said honestly. “No rotten skeletons in the closet.” I snorted softly under my breath. That had to be the cleanest, most polite way anyone had ever described Jefferey. “Besides,” he added quietly, “Esther doesn’t even know any of this yet.”

The woman opened the folder, then slid a photograph across the table. Karma looked at it and immediately felt another heavy fart forming in her insides. It was her, standing outside The Velvet Room, caught by a camera mounted above the entrance. The timestamp read 7:43 PM. Her coat, her heels, her hair loose around her shoulders. She did not change her expression. "Is this you?" Brennan asked. Karma leaned forward slightly, squinting and very composed. Then she sat back. "Yes. That's me." "You were at The Velvet Room last night."

"It was her! She used your phone to reverse the money that was supposed to save my father's life! She was the one who got my father beaten to death! "And you, Jeff! What were you doing at the time? You were taking pictures with this murderer! You shameless pair of adulterers should both pay for my father's life!!!" My scream exploded through the ballroom like a bomb. Jeff's face instantly turned deathly pale. He stared at me, and for the very first time, panic appeared in his eyes. "Carol! Shut up!" He lunged toward me, trying to cover my mouth, but I shoved him away violently.

She just looked at him. "You know what I am," he said from behind her. "I know." "Then don't—" He stopped. She turned around."Don't what? Don't look at you like you're human? Don't put a band-aid on your arm? Don't sit here in this shitty motel room with a man who kills people for a living and still feel safer than I've felt in years?" His jaw tightened."You don't mean that." "I don't say things I don't mean."

Jefferson said, and spat on the floor. “He won’t find you. Your car has no tracking system, your phone’s at the motel. He’ll reach that dead end and even if he knows where I live, which I’m sure he does, he won’t get to me. I went to prison an innocent man, but I left there a murderer. I killed seven men in prison, got myself the name ‘Wrath’ on the inside. You think you know me, but you don’t. You sitting in that chair … that’s what I do now. I kill men like you for money and I’m really fucking good at it. You turned me into this.” “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Kill me if that’s what you have planned,” Jefferson said.

Pulling it out halfway, a slip of paper fluttered to the rug. Jeffrey crouched, reaching for it. It wasn’t a document. It was a photograph. A much younger version of himself, barely older than a toddler, he sat on the lap of a young man. Beside them, a beautiful woman leaned in, her laughter caught mid-bloom. They looked… happy. All three of them. The young man’s arm was curled protectively around him, his smile easy and warm. But it was the man’s face that made Jeffrey’s stomach turn.

“The night that started all of this. I was drugged. Someone put something in my drink and I lost consciousness and woke up somewhere I did not recognize with no memory of what had happened in the hours between.” She paused but only briefly, not giving herself room to stop. “The man who was supposed to carry out the original plan was Jephthah. He was paid to drug me and then sleep with me while I was unconscious and take photographs that could be used against me. Evidence to destroy my reputation and give the elders the ammunition they needed to remove me from this pack permanently.” I said nothing. I had promised her I would not and I kept that promise even though what she was describing was