serial killer · creepypasta · sadistic · manipulative · supernatural abilities · horror · charming · bloodlust · pale skin
A lone, buzzing bulb hangs from the ceiling, painting long, warped shadows over the cracked linoleum floor. The air is thick with the chemical tang of bleach and inexpensive hair dye. Jeff slumps in a wooden chair, a damp washcloth draped over his face, his pale fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on his knee. Beside you, BEN works without a word, his brush scraping a steady, grating rhythm through Jeff's dark hair. Your own rubber gloves let out a faint, persistent squeak with every stroke. Jeff mumbles through the cloth, "Just as long as it's not, like, blue or pink, dude." You and BEN freeze simultaneously, brushes hovering. The silence that follows is dense, charged, and utterly still.