Jeff The Killer Pictures Novels & Stories

Jack let the force of his legs explode through his hips, torso, and shoulders, sent the energy through his arms and into the bag. Only when he was completely spent, covered in sweat, did he let himself drop to the mat. But even then, he couldn’t rest. He reached for his phone and shuffled through the photos he’d taken of Ashley’s bizarre paintings. He paused the screen at the painting of himself in the grave, eyes open but unseeing. Blackwell’s other known victims hadn’t been buried alive. They’d been buried in pieces. The FBI had never done a full recovery. The bastard was keeping trophies.

“You’ve done it. You’ll do it. You’re going to kill us.” “No!” Malachi shot up, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He ripped it off, looking around the circular office stood as if a time capsule. He hadn't changed anything yet, but his father's body was burnt, so today was the day. He picked up the paintings he had been keeping for this occasion, all painted by his talented best friend. He pushed his deep auburn hair out of his face and got to work removing some of the paintings, he wouldn't remove all of them, his father didn't need to be scrubbed from the walls.

I responded. "The Serpent Mafia? Really?" He asked with incredulity written all over his face. "They wanted to give this to me" I said as I placed the picture in my hand on his desk and slid it to him. He picked it up and stared at the picture for a while. "And who in the big wide world is this?" He asked as he stared at me with his eyebrows arched upwards in confusion. "It's the killer" I said, "The one from the Kansas City nightclub case" I explained. His eyes widened in surprise.

I hissed with my teeth clenched, glaring at Jackie Fernando's photo at the top of the board. I felt myself get charged up with anger the moment I laid my eyes on him. He looked like a sweet soul in the picture, pretty handsome and quite rigged. But as they say, visuals can be deceptive. Looking at him, you could never imagine he murdered thousands of people in cold blood. Nobody had ever seen his face. He used to send his mafia gang to do the dirty work, but somehow my parents were special.

“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.

"You're a lunatic, Victoria." I leaned against the window, watching the crowd pound on the glass. "But only lunatics are remembered, Agent." And this, all of this, was my masterpiece. The case exploded across the nation. Soon, the "Coma Killer" case was trending everywhere. [Former Art Prodigy Kills Ten: A Twisted Mind or a Deeper Conspiracy?] [Can a Person in a Coma Kill? Experts Weigh In on the Methods] The buzz on Twitter was hotter than the presidential election.

I’d had enough of Jesse standing above everyone like some untouchable god. If he wanted war, I would give him one. I released everything. Every hidden file. Every photo. Every shred of evidence that tied him to the death of his sister. The world needed to know what kind of man he really was. A murderer—convicted, jailed, and now hiding behind a polished image and immense wealth. I didn’t stop there. I made sure the media got photos of his time in prison, grainy but damning. Let the public chew on that.

He slid a thick white envelope across the desk, arching an eyebrow when she held her position, reluctant to get closer to her captive. Andrea approached the desk, slowly - monitoring his every move, unwilling to accept his peaceful nature – and snatched up the envelope. The documents spilled out across the desk and before she could control it, the desk under her grip was shaking from the deep growls residing from within her chest. Bodies in a sea of blood, was what lay within those pictures. Not just any bodies, the torn off pieces of her family: her mothers afraid features still cemented to her motionless body, surrounded by the limps of her father Daniel and younger brother Jamie.

I stared at him in disbelief. “What did you just say?” “I didn’t stutter Joey. I killed them all including Tara and Cooper.” I took a seat in front of him. I stared into his eyes and I could see no hint of anything wrong at first. I pulled out the pictures of all the victims.

Elanor let out a sigh. Then, she said quietly, “Young Master Bauer…” “Enough. Let’s not talk about this.” Jeff waved his hand to cut her off. “How are your injuries?” “Were you scared?” “That b*stard was one of mine, but he still tried to kill you! He deserves death!” Jeff clapped his hands. Right after that, someone handed a firearm to him. He pulled the trigger without even bothering to look at the man with the buzzcut.