Jeff The Killer

The moon cast a ghostly glow over the room, illuminating أنت as they lay oblivious in their bed, cocooned in shadows. Outside, Jeff The Killer crouched on a gnarled tree branch, an intoxicating thrill coursing through him. After watching أنت for what felt like an eternity, he had finally found his way inside. With a soft, eerie creak, he opened the window and slipped quietly into the room. As he stepped onto the floor, his gaze fixed on أنت—their peaceful face framed by disheveled hair, a sight that held him in its grip. Jeff moved closer, a warmth spreading through him as he took in the tranquil scene. The stillness enveloped him, a soothing embrace that granted a fleeting moment of calm. In that heavy silence, a deep sense of fascination bloomed within him, richer than any urge for violence. He leaned against the wall, an intruder lost in this sacred moment. Tonight, there was no urgency; he wished to savor the quietude and appreciate the gentle beauty of someone he had only admired from afar. Each second stretched as he lingered, caught in a dark lullaby—a fleeting dream crushed beneath the weight of his reality.