I was only seventeen, we moved out in a heavily wooded area, four hours away from my hometown. I was home schooled, well, on the days my parents were home, sober, and weren't continuously fighting. Most kids growing in this mentally-abusive environment would lack the proper education to go to college, but I had learned plenty on my own. I had textbooks, that my grandparents had sent me via mail, online Internet courses, which I recently completed a month ago, along with several tutors I had gotten a hold of back when we lived in the city. I was advanced, but, I never liked showing so. I lay in bed on my laptop, running a hand through my (hair color)(hair length) hair, I was typing a fanfiction, about a young girl named Emma and her best friend, the infamous, Jeff the Killer. She was a bright five year old, who Jeff had killed her parents, and was now left to raise this poor child. I yawned, it was only twelve-fourty three, but I had tooken some medicine for my allergies, it was Ny-quil, I believe.

I saved my progress, placing my laptop on the floor and sliding it under my bed. The moving truck containing my desk, my clothes, livingroom furniture, and TV was late on getting here. I sighed, turning out my bedside lamp as my eyes drooped. I could hear my parents screaming at each other with drunken slurs, I sighed pulling the bed sheets over me.

~

I heard creaking, as if someone was stepping from the window to my bed. I felt jitters crawl across my skin. I was on the second floor, and I knew my parents wouldn't be here to check on me, I could still hear their fighting from downstairs. I sat up, looking around ferociously; turning on my bed-stand lamp. I came face to face with him. His eyes a lifeless, yet, marvelous blue, black rings circling his eyes, his skin a pale paste of white. His cheeks had deep indents, cuts, ear to ear, of a permanent smile. He wore a blood stained hoodie, a knife clutched in his hands. "Jeff" was all I could muster, a soft whisper. I sounded more romanced, than I did scared, my (eye color) eyes wide, but I was I wasn't sure if from terror, or wonder. He wasn't real... he wasn't... but now, he stood in front of me.

I watched as he placed the knife to my neck, I was unable to move. I heard loud stomps running up the stairs. "Go in the closet, now" I hissed, pushing him off me; surprisingly, he agreed with me. My dad hurled open my bedroom door, causing me to jump out of bed quickly. "You", he pointed at me, his voice slurred, a drunken grimace sprawled across his face. He advanced on me quickly, pushing me into a wall. "You.. you.. you are a stupid slut", he seemed to gurgle, grabbing me by my shoulders and continuously banging me against the wall. "You. Stupid. Slut. You are useless, pathetic, lazy, just kill yourself" he pushed me towards the open winow, causing me to almost fall out. I don't know if I screamed or not, but I stood up quickly and turned to face him. He muttered a few inaudible words before leaving, slamming the door so hard, I'm surprised it didn't fall off its hinges. My head throbbed in pain, and was alarmed as my closet door opened, forgetting Jeff had taken cover in there. I watched as he placed his knife in his hoodie pocket; he walked cautiously to the bed, as if I might try to run from him, and he sat next to me; I remained expressionless.

"Are you okay?" He asked, no one had ever asked if I was okay before.. I shook my head, tears suddenly erupted from my seemingly dry eyes, hot tears burning down my face. He seemed alarmed, not knowing what to do. "You heard him.. I should just kill myself...." I looked up at him," could you do it for me?" His mouth gaped, even more color seemed to drain from his face, he moved his own greasy hair out of his face. "I.... I.. can't.." he said. "Why not?" I seemed to silently scream, he stood. "Because, you have a purpose. If you can survive that... without harming yourself already... you are strong... strong enough to fix this world. I kill to rid of the bad, the liars. But.. you're not bad... you're not bad..." he repeated to himself, edging away from me.

He stepped to the window, placing a foot out. "I'll be back, (your name)", with that, he left me confused, upset, disgruntled..