Jeff The Killer Photos Novels & Stories

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.

If Thomas truly committed violence, he could kill him on the spot and simply claim it was self-defense after Thomas attacked his family. As long as Thomas died, the plan would be halfway complete. As for Sharon… Without Thomas, she was nothing. On the floor, the photographs showed Jamie sitting in the Kalen family's living room waiting for Sharon's return, Jamie staring intently at her figure, and even Jamie and Sharon kissing. At a glance, Sharon could tell the kissing photos were fake. But the images of Jamie waiting inside the Kalen residence were real. The same went for the intimate photos of her and Jamie taken on the island—those were fabricated as well.

“You mean this is the man that your husband has an affair with?” John asked, his eyes widening in shock. Claire nodded her head in affirmation, her expression a mix of sorrow and resignation. John could hardly believe what he had just discovered. His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened further as he stared at Claire, then back at the photo on his phone. The image was of Jeffery. What was really happening? The weight of the revelation hit John like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling.

His eyes were wild with panic, but it was the guilt that shone through the most. Wynnie had enough of his excuses. She presented the proof of Jeff's recent reckless real estate and stock market ventures, all based on his foreknowledge from a previous life. Anyone would be hard-pressed to deny he had such memories. "You faked your own death in your previous life, letting us all believe Kelvin was your killer. We despised him because of you! Now, you've chased him away on purpose, Jeff! He's been paying for your mistakes for over ten years. Do you even have a heart?!"

“I-I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeffrey sneaking up on the gunman. I just needed to keep him distracted for a little longer. “Yes, you can. You’re going to kill me anyway, right? I deserve to know who wants me dead.” The man growled in frustration and ran his free hand through his hair. “You don’t understand!” Just as the homeless werewolf cocked his gun, Jeffrey pounced on him. He pinned the other man’s arms down with his legs and ripped the pistol out of his hand, throwing it far out of his reach.

“I take it you’ve seen the paper?” Conner nodded. The link between the two killings had been discovered, transforming the story from a curiosity to a front-page extravaganza. The Times featured a photo of Sheila’s sheet-covered body being wheeled from the motel beneath two-inch block headlines that trumpeted: “Video Killer Stalks L.A.” “I imagine the heat’s been turned up a few notches,” Conner said sympathetically.

It was as if they possessed a mind of their own. There were pictures of Jeff and his sister ... the exact copies of the ones I was given back then in the dungeon, along with others I hadn’t been given, which showed them more clearly. That wasn’t all. Other pictures of me that were taken when I hadn’t come back yet to work for Jeff, as well as ones that were clearly taken after I came back to work for him, were in there too. There were also ones of Aurora and Janet, of the three of us chilling in our backyard, of our house, of me at the supermarket, and so on.

Jeffery leaned forward and sifted through a few files on his desk. When he found the one he was looking for, he slapped it down toward me. Uncrossing my legs, I plucked it off the desk and flipped the front cover open. What greeted me were pictures of dead bodies, all women, with ghastly expressions of horror on their faces. They were frozen in a perpetual scream that had shivers running up my spine. All of them were sallow looking with paper-white skin and their eye sockets sunken in. "What the fuck?" I mumbled.

Safe feels like something that happened to someone else in a different life. The package arrives on a Tuesday. No return address. No postage. Just left on our doorstep. Jeffrey brings it inside. "Did you order something?" "No." "Maybe it's for one of the boys." "Open it." He cuts through the tape. Lifts the flap. His face goes pale. "What is it?" I ask. He doesn't answer. Just pulls out a stack of photographs. Photos of me. Leaving the house. At physical therapy. At the grocery store.

This is how she will look and smile at the downfall of all her enemies. It wasn't so hard to get rid of Jeffery. They planted hard drugs in his room, making sure his fingerprints were on it and they alerted the police about it. Even though jeffery is not a drug abuser. He has a bad record which can implicate him and makes it hard for him to get out of this mess.