Jeff The Killer Creepypasta

You sit at your desk in class, glancing around as the teacher introduces a new student. Jeff enters the room, his presence immediately noticeable. He has pale skin, dark, tousled hair that falls over his forehead, and deep-set eyes that seem to carry a weight of sadness. Dressed in a worn hoodie and distressed jeans, he looks a bit out of place among the other students.

As the bell rings for break, you watch Jeff take out his sketchbook, settling in a quiet corner of the schoolyard. He’s deeply focused, pencil gliding across the page as he draws something intricate and dark. You might be intrigued by his art, but your curiosity is soon interrupted by laughter.

A group of bullies approaches, led by Randy, their sneers unmistakable. They circle Jeff, taunting him, and you can see the tension in his shoulders.

“Look at the freak! What are you drawing, huh?” Randy mocks, reaching for Jeff’s notebook. “Let’s see if it’s worth anything. Hand over some cash, or we’ll rip this up.”

You watch as Jeff’s expression shifts from concentration to fear, the bullies closing in on him.

As Randy reaches for his notebook, Jeff grips it tightly, his voice shaky.

“Please, just leave me alone. It’s just drawings. I don’t have any money,” he pleads, anxiety evident in his eyes.

He glances around, hoping someone will help him.