988494 470296719725734 1063873662 n

Jeff's first photo he left the authorities.

Story One.Edit

The following is an entry in a diary found at the scene of a crime. We have not yet found the suspect for the crime, and it is thought he is still at large. After reading, if you have any information on the whereabouts of 'Jeff: The Killer' then please ring our hotline.

Day one. Victim one.

I got up this morning, and started my amazing adventure. I skipped breakfast as I was simply too excited. Betty Colms. She would be the first of many to be etched into my heart for years to come. I followed her to and from her house, as she has just visited a friend before traveling to her University. She is one busy girl!
I'm now sitting in the car at her University. Lots of boys and girls walking in and out, and around the complex. I wonder how many of them know I'm going to fucking slaughter Betty with a scythe later on?

It's now lunchtime. I followed Betty home, she is a terrible driver. I might of parked too close, but I have a story ready in case she asks. I just watched her for ten minutes through a window, and I can't wait for tonight now. I'll sneak in through the back while she's in the shower I think. I'm glad her parents have gone away for the weekend. Fridays are now my most favorite day of the week.
Betty is now on her way back to University. She seemed to be looking over at me sitting in the car before she left off, though. It doesn't matter, her brains will be all over the place later on anyway.

It is now 5pm. Betty has just arrived home, and looks excited for the weekend. I now need to work my magic before she invites any friends over and blows this whole thing.

I just saw her on the phone, so I had to improvise. I cut the lines in the area, just as she was dialing. In case she had a mobile phone, I sprinted to the front door and banged on it as hard as I could. I heard a muffled scream from within, which instantly gave me butterflies. She slowly approached the door and answered it.
Hi, I said. I'm from around the block, I live thataway *I pointed to the left*. Any idea what's going on with the phone lines?.
No, she replied. It went silent for a couple of seconds. I improvised a second time, risking it all.
You know, I fixed mine earlier from inside the house. There's a fuse which was blown. Want me to check yours? - I came up with this surprisingly quickly.
Sure thing, make your way into the living room she panted, closing the door and sorting some bits out on the small table near the door in the meantime.

As I walked into the living room, my nose turned up. It was disgusting in here. Much like a pigsty. I asked her if she always lives like this, and she replied with a witty little fucking comment - Nope, only because my parents aren't here hehe!
I couldn't wait to start my anthology of pain, and this bitch was the perfect candidate to begin it.

After a while of fiddling around near her phone line, and the wall socket, she went upstairs. I thought she'd never go. She told me she'd be back in about two minutes, and that's all I needed. As soon as she hit the top of the stairs, I stealthily made my way over to the front door and blocked it with the small table I mentioned earlier, with various other things. I did this as quietly as I could. I then went to check all the other windows and doors were locked. They were. Good girl.

I don't remember the next few minutes, so bear with me. I do remember her chatting on the phone, telling a friend to come over. And that a 'hot' guy was trying to fix her phone line. My penis twitched while I listened to her talk.
Soon after she walked back downstairs. I don't remember what we spoke about, but thinking of it I was trying to ply information out of her. I asked if she's doing anything later on (by now it was easily 6:30pm) and she said she had a friend coming over at 7:00. Fuck.

I instantly thought on the spot, and went to the toilet. I took my bag with me, think a duffel, gym kind of thing. It was a smaller, more compact version of one of those. Plenty of room for my mask, and my tools though. I put on my mask, and grabbed the hammer. It was finally time. My blood was rushing, my adrenaline sky high. I knew what was coming next, was the beginning of something incredible. Like a phoenix rising out of a fire.

I called her over to the bathroom, and said I needed help flushing as it was 'stuck'. She fell for it, and as the door opened time seemed to slow down. As she noticed my new face, her facial expression dropped to pure fear and she started to run. I tomahawked my hammer at her head, and it clobbered her right on the top of the spine. She dropped within seconds.
I went over to retrieve my trusty hammer and check the damage. She was still screaming on the floor and trying to move her now-injured body to the floor.
You won't escape I laughed. She called me a fucking bastard prick cunt or something like that. I laughed again.

I then reached into my bag and got the gag rope out, and tied her mouth with it to prevent anymore noise. At this point my heart was racing! I then took my meat hammer out, and bashed her on the back of the ankles several times, until they cracked. Blood splattered on to the hammer and on her carpet. A bit on my mask, too. The hammer was red by this point, but I wasn't bothered. She definitely wasn't getting away.

I then told her swearing is nasty, and she would be punished for swearing at me four times in a row. I got my hacksaw out, and took her socks off. Blood soaked and all. I then cut two toes off each foot, and told her to taste the pain. She chewed the sawn-off toes for a couple of seconds, before spitting them back out and screaming in agony. My excitement had reached a peak level.

I reached into my bag, and grabbed the last item to end this blood-drenched carnival. My disposable camera. I went to take a photo of her, and told her to smile. She spat blood at me, it was more of a blood-sticky saliva concoction really. This angered me, so I stomped on her right hand really hard. She writhed in agony once again. Then she pushed me over the edge. I tried to take another photo and she slapped the camera from my hands.

I told her to pick up the fucking camera, and take a snapshot of me before I delivered the finishing blow to her fucking stupid head. She was crying and screaming by this point; the rag I had used earlier was stained with blood and tears. Snot dripped to the carpet and covered her clothes as did the aforementioned liquids. She took a photo of me (see below). I then told her she would be the first photo in my diary. My first kill. She was special.
I then took my work hammer, and bashed her head in until brain, skull bits and blood covered my mask, my clothes and the floor. I felt a sense of incredible rapture. I spat at her dead body and the spit only just made its way through my mask hole. I called her a stupid fucking dumb broad and finished writing this diary. I now present it to you, the Police department. Good luck trying to find me. My name is Jeff. You'll be hearing from me again soon. I hope you can get Betty's brains from out of the carpet. It was a nice cream color before I started with her.

The very last thing I did was write an apology to her friend, whoever you may be.

End day one.