You know what? What the hell. I'll add to this. Because I have nothing to do and it's only another victim, not really continuing it, like I promised. Thanks all for the great reviews, they really encouraged me. T_T I really didn't think I was that good at writing Jeff. You're all awesome, I literally freaked every time I read a new review. Thanks again, and enjoy~!

No matter what happened she would not scream. That was the promise she made herself when she woke up to this...thing standing at the edge of her bed, staring down at her like some twisted and contorted guardian angel gone wrong. She. Would not. Scream. He wore black and white, simple shades. Polar opposites. White hoodie, black pants. His face was scarred horribly. It was as white as his sweatshirt, a jagged slash of bright red forming a taunting smile ripped into his cheeks.

Had he done that himself?

It most certainly hadn't been an accident, being in such a precise place. Such a sinister design. She wanted to scream so badly. She was frozen on her mattress, unknowing of the fact that he already knew she was awake.

His unblinking eyes missed nothing. The slightest movements of her thin little body were never lost on him. If she shifted, he saw it. He enjoyed letting her think he didn't, though. How utterly amusing that she thought she could trick him. Jeff glanced a the clock. 2:09 AM. He had plenty of time. More than plenty. The girl's breathing was far from steady. Sometimes it was there, shaking and shuddering like an earthquake, other times it was silent, her realizing that she was being to loud and stopping her intake of breath completely. Stupid girl. He couldn't find it in him to pity her, even when she tried so hard. He didn't have the capacity for that anymore. He twirled the large kitchen knife in his hand idly, letting the feeling burn at the back of his throat and tear at the threads of his shredded mind. It was a rabid bear eager to be let out of its cage. No deep cognition was possible at this point; there was only kill. There was only blood.

The girl wanted to reach for her phone, maybe text her parents and hope they would hear it. Maybe wait until he wasn't watching her to sneak out and call the police before he realized she was gone. But no, it was behind her on the nightstand. He would know she was awake then, and she didn't know what he would do. Her foot twitched, maybe she could fight him off, disable him enough to get away. She didn't think she was strong enough, but it seemed to be her only plausible option now. She had to. Slowly she drew back her foot, hoping he wouldn't see; hoping to god he was too focused on her upper to notice her lower moving silently across the sheets.

He noticed everything, though, and this new discovery had him excited. He had held back long enough, and the feeling was raging.

"It's adorable when they try to fight back." He whispered to her, a new smile stretching out his permanent one. He licked his ruined lips and let out a low, menacing chuckle that made the girl go cold.

"W-what do you want?" She asked quietly, on the verge of tears already. How pathetic. "I'll give you anything, just please don't hurt me."

Jeff bristled at the familiar statement. That fucking same plea he heard over and over, grating on his nerves until they were just sore little nubs, "Tell me this, Teresa," he spoke her name slowly, to frighten her even more. This stranger knew her name. The cliche worked so well. "What if what I want is exactly that? What if I came here to...'hurt' you?"

She couldn't stop the sob that escaped her like a broken plea, "please." She whispered.

He growled low in his throat, "One more word and I'll rip your throat open." He rose the blade menacingly, a sick grin stretched even further across his cheeks, "Or maybe I'll just do it anyway."

She screeched like a threatened bird as he brought the knife down. It sunk straight into her neck, right below her chin, and he tore it down violently. Blood spurted out of her huge wound, ripped open from throat to navel. It splattered his hoodie, painting it red. His manic laughter rang through the whole house as he dug his hands into the slit, yanking out the entrails of the now dead girl. Her eyes were glazed and glassy, seeing nothing in their wide-open look of terror. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream that was never to be heard again. He cut the guts loose and let then fly around the room, throwing them so they hung haphazardly from any elevated object in the room.

He was still laughing when the girl's parents burst noisily into the room.

He was still laughing when he cut them down regardless of the flying bullets.

He was still laughing when he decorated the room with their remains.