Being real, anyone on this website should have at least heard of Jeff the Killer.
Meaning, you've probably also read the terrible remakes of him like "Nina the Killer" and all that nonsense.
Well, guess what. He's real, and I have proof. But I was never an author, sadly, so excuse any grammatical errors.
So it all started when I was younger, nine to be exact. I have always had an empathy problem, up to the point where I was dragged to a therapist by my stupid parents, and put on some stupid medication that only made me depressed. I can't remember what it was or what it did, but it sure as hell sucked.
Many who have heard my story believe my "problem" started because of my perfect sister always constantly upstaging me at everything that honestly meant nothing. She was popular, model-gorgeous and beloved by everyone who met her. Except me. But truly, the origin my problem was so far-fetched and resulted in me never needing to sleep and, fuck, I don't fully understand it.
So, my parents went away for the weekend when I was seventeen and my sister, Amanda, was sixteen. Note that by then, I had learned to pretend I was "cured" by those God-forsaken pills that Doctor Reynolds gave me, so I was in a blessed state of mind where my thoughts were no longer overrun by stupid emotions. I've always been that way, you see? There was no unexplainable "switch" as you'll see in basically every story relating to Jeff, no. I was always a psychopath.
But back to the story, my parents went away and it was just Amanda and I. She was asleep on the top bunk, while I lay underneath, loathing every second of her presence. She woke up and went into the living room, terrified out of her wits about something, but I ignored her pleas as she tried to drag me along, because I have never cared for her.
Whatever I was doing was rudely interrupted by an earsplitting scream that could have only come from my sister. I'm not going to lie, I honestly considered letting whatever scare her continue to do so, thinking it was probably a spider or something pathetic like that, but curiosity drew me towards her sobbing and squeals.
The first thing I saw when I walked in there to this day still brings a smile to my face. There lay my bratty sister on the floor, sobbing as a hooded man pinned her down, dragging a knife across her body. It took me a few seconds, but I soon realized that this was the "Jeff the Killer" that had been haunting the Internet for a while now. I only really knew about him due to the rumors around my school, but that's not really important.
He slit my sister's throat, still not noticing me behind him, and I just watched, grinning in sheer delight as my sister's blood formed in a small puddle around her head as it trickled from the brutal slice in her arteries.
And that's when Jeff noticed me, grinning like a child on Christmas as the lights faded from Amanda's pretty eyes. So naturally, he tried to kill me, as any psychopathic killer would. But he was distracted by... something. I think something was calling him back outside, because he really looked like he wanted to kill me. But instead he swore to be back and ran out through the open balcony-door and jumped over the railing and ran.
The sound of police sirens followed minutes after his disappearance, and I just stood there, staring at Amanda's corpse right up until the police were knocking on the door. Apparently one of my neighbors had called them after hearing Amanda's irritating screams, and obviously I was number one suspect.
My story was that I just woke up after her scream and saw her body, and there were strange, white fibers on her body, plus some other murder victims' blood, probably from Jeff's knife. So I managed to get off fine, and I was almost thrilled to be an only child. But my parents weren't as happy, and insisted on a foreign burial for the corpse of their little princess, because she had always wanted to travel, and that left me alone at home once again, about a month after the incident.
Yeah, my parents were crap, but this was mainly filed under "financial issues" due to the fact that the only reason we didn't travel was the fact that we weren't rich. I'm sure many can relate. So obviously wasting all this money on a corpse was a great idea, but I was glad I wasn't going. I didn't want to go to her funeral and see people crying because of her death, mainly because this was one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me.
And, of course, cue the cliché. Jeff came back! Surprise!
Of course I was predicting it, but when he arrived I wasn't prepared. All I had was the one carving knife that I was using at the time to make jam sandwiches with because the dishes were piling up and I wasn't going to do them just to get a knife for sandwiches.
So we had an amazing fight, where I actually spared him because I guess I felt like I owed him for ridding the world of Amanda. No, I'm not saying I'm stronger, I'm saying I was put in a position where I could have been able to kill him in order to spare my own life, but chose to just let him kill me. But he didn't, God knows why. I bet he wishes he did now. I bet he wants me dead more than anything else now.
No, I'm not Jane the Killer. Jesus, her character is so, so awful, it's so obvious she isn't real. Yes, I did research before sharing my story with the world, but who in hell believes that?
So he basically dragged me out into the forest that was adjacent to our house, and forced me to murder someone. A man. I didn’t want to do it, mostly because I knew I would most likely get caught, but he made me. I had no problems with it, creeping up on him and just stabbing him in the back, and my lack of empathy and other emotions made it okay, but he thought I liked it.
He thought I was like him.
I was only doing it out of self-preservation, but it kept happening. He kept forcing me to murder innocents, and I kept pretending to be okay with it. He almost seemed to grow jealous of my “eagerness” to rip the lives from the bodies of others.
He made me live with him in the forest, hell, he even made me look similar to like him. My messy, brown bob was cut short and is now black, even hair dye runs through it now, my once beautiful hazel eyes a hideous, soul wrenching black. He even somehow got my skin to a ghastly gray color, making me look like a zombie.
I don’t know when he did it. I don’t know how he did it. But I am fucking mad!
I just woke up, dressed in a pretty red dress, a pair of sharpened scissors at my side, and a hideous body. I’m not going to go looking for Jeff; I know that’s pointless and stupid. But now I’m out here and I can never go back.
Everyone should feel my pain. My parents are dead. They didn’t care well enough for me anyway. They didn’t even recognize me when I got to their doorstep, grinning maliciously at them.
Sure, it might not have been Jeff who ruined me, but whoever did, they did a hell of a good job.
I’m not out here for revenge, I’m here as a warning. I suppose since you have now heard of me, you might as well know my name. I am Clementine Grey.
So watch out, when you hear the song Oh My Darling Clementine, remember me. Oh, My Darling is coming for you. Scrawled in messy writing across your corpse, done with the tip of my scissors. Oh, I’m here.
Maybe Jeff will notice and come back for me. Maybe he’ll kill me.
He’s all I have left, in a world where I’m a monster. The two things I long for: death and someone to relate to.
At this point, I almost understand why he took me and forced me to do those awful things. The loneliness he must have been feeling was probably killing him. But now he’s left me, and I am alone.
I would be fine if he had never found me all those nights ago, but now I want nothing more than for him to find me once again. And that’s why I submitted this.
Oh my Darling
Oh my Darling
Oh my Darling, Clementine
Now you’re lost and
Gone forever
Dreadful sorry,
Clementine.
The song will be the last thing any of my victims will here. Imagine if it were you as the victim. You would be there like a flare gun that I shoot in the dark. You would be burned so I could be found.
Please, don’t struggle.
I just don’t want to be alone.