Key:
(Y/N) = Your Name
(L/N) = Last Name
(E/C) = Eye Color
(H/C) = Hair Color
(F/C) = Favorite Color
(S/C) = Skin Color
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Winter had finally arrived, it's frost coating your new houses windows, your new houses roof- basically everything, along with the heavy snow that fell from the white sky.
You had recently just moved away from (where you live), and to the state of Oregon.
Your Mom/Dad had finally gotten promoted, but it came with the price of moving.
You hated the idea of leaving your friends, school, and house you'v lived in for most of your life, behind.
It was tragic, and there were tears.
But that's normal.
You had said goodbye to your best of friends, your teachers, even your house, and....
Left.
Moving everything there was brutal.
You were only thirteen at the time, and just wanted to go back to what you truly felt was home.
2 Weeks Later

Your family had finally moved everything into the new house.
Then the snow hit hard right after.
Which was very lucky.
You still had a couple of mostly-empty boxes, that had one or two things inside.
Flopping onto your (f/c) bedspread- messing up the freshly made bed - you sighed.
"What could go wrong? It's a fresh start," your hands made gestures, while saying this quietly to yourself.
1 Year Later

Things were actually going well for you!
Your (h/c) had actually grown a couple of inches, since you weren't exactly caring about length at the time of the move.
It was winter once more, except the snow was heavier, the ice thicker.
School was even canceled.
One of your new good friends was having a slumber party, and you were inviting.
They lived close, so that was good.
You were now fourteen, you were happy, and you only though of the place you used to live rarely.
The night of the slumber party, you kept your bed neat, window shut tight, dresser clean, and your bedroom door closed tight.
The Next Morning

You had a long goodbye with the grind who had invited you for the night.
The snow had lightened up- also good!
Your Mom/Dad picked you up, and pelted you with questions.
When you finally arrived home, you went upstairs to go put your bag in your room.
You turned the knob, and got quiet a shock.
Your window was halfway open, blowing your (f/c) curtains, and snow, onto your originally clear and clean floor.
Your bed was a mess, your dresser top a mess!
You were utterly confused.
We're you robbed?
You quickly checked for any stolen items.
Luckily, there was none.
But you did find blood.
Dried blood on your bed, and dresser.
It freaked you out, and to make it worse, you found a piece of crumpled, damp, paper, sticking out of the window.
You snatched it, and read it silently.
'GO TO SLEEP'.
That's what it said.
You heard that phrase before, you just knew you have, somewhere.....
You couldn't tell if it was just you, or the fact your window was wide open, but you could feel a chill travel down your spine.
And with that, you crumpled the paper again, dropped it, and sprinted out, screaming for your parent(s).
1 Week Later

A week had passed since the incident occurred.
Your parent(s) had informed the police, but they haven't come up with anything quite yet.
You were getting ready to call it a night, making sure your window was tightly locked.
You crawled under the warm, welcoming covers of your bed, and fell heavily asleep.
During your sleep, you swore you heard motion, but your brain pushed it off as nothing, and you kept your eyes shut, and dreaming.
The nest morning, you woke up to the freezing cold.
Your window.
It was open.
You saw this out of the corner of your left eye, before you shot up, breathing heavily at the sight of it.
"What...." You were speechless, breathless.
You swing your legs out of your cover, and walked over swiftly to the open window.
The lock was broken.
This kept happening every three, four times per week, for five weeks.
At some point, you refused to sleep.
After five weeks, you were determined to figure out who the hell is opting your window up!
You would take naps each day, and stay up all night.
You were starting to give up after four nights, until Friday.
Your heard the slow opening of glass.
Your heart raced- but you waited.
Footsteps.
Tiny, tiny, light, footsteps.
Then, the end of your bed dipped.
It was sitting on your bed.
Gosh.
No.
Please.
Finally, you couldn't take it.
Your hand snaked under your pillow; you had snuck a kitchen knife into your bedroom, just to be safe.
When your fingers grasped onto the black handle, you shot up, pointing the blade at the silhouette on the end of your (f/c) bed.
It's head turned- his head turned.
You gasped, instantly moving back.
His face......
A pure white face, that leaned forward, so the moonlight could wash over his features.
Pure, white, skin.
Wide eyes, with dark, black, circles.
Extremely red lips, and a cared smile, moving past his cheeks.
His hair was such a deep black, it would easily blend into the darkness surrounding your room currently.
You drew you legs up quickly, still pointing the knife at him.
"Go To Sleep~" He spoke calmly, soothingly.
He slowly started crawling towards you.
"I-I know you," you said firmly, your hand holding the knife firmly shaking, ever so slightly.
"W-who are you?!" You demanded.
He crawled all the way to you, faces only inches away from each other.
He studied you, speaking after a couple of minutes.
You could smell the blood on his hoodie.
It made you want to gag.
"....Jeff~" he spoke quietly, bringing his knife to your throat, leaning in closer.
He kept leaning forward, the dull, flat side of the blade pressing harder against your (s/c) flesh.
Jeff leaned in closer.
You were going to die.
You wanted to do something stupid.
So you blushes madly at your best though and action, and pressed your mouth firmly against his.
He was taken back, but he didn't move away.
His knife was still locked in place, his other hand grasped your hair tightly, and he tilted his head more.
Eventually, you felt his knife slide lightly over your neck, sharp side on your flesh, leaving a thin mark.
You could also feel the tip tracing a design on the left side of your neck.
But it didn't hurt you.
You were too lost in the moment.
He released you, and pulled back.
"I will return," he spoke quietly again, before placing his blade inside his blood-stained hoodie, backed up, stood up, and walked over to the window.
How old was he?
He stuck his foot out of the window, and gave you one last stare.
Did he like the connection of your lips together?
He left.
Window open.
Slowly, you got up a minute later, and starred out of the square in the wall.
Nothing.
Jeff was gone.
You shut you window quietly, and in the glass, you could see the reflection of you- and your neck.
Your fingers skimmed the skin that was cut, your blood smearing on your neck and fingers, filling the outline of the thin line he had carved, and your fingers.
But you didn't care.
You swore you where in love.
With Jeff.
Jeff the Killer.
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Thoughts?
Comments?
Observations?
Sorry if Jeff wasn't too crazy in this one.
I want to make him actually insane, because something snapped in his mind, remember?
He's not going to act like a normal lover; he's not going to act sweet, and gentle, he's insane, and a KILLER.
HES A KILLER, PEOPLE.