“Seriously,” Marcus agreed. “The story doesn’t even make sense. Why doesn’t he just use a gun?”
The closet door swung open.
He was taller than Leo remembered. Taller than a person should be. His skin was the color of old milk, stretched too tight over a skull that wasn't quite human. His hair was lank and black, hanging over a face that was all sharp angles and wrong proportions. But it was the smile that broke Leo. Not because it was carved—in this version, in this reality, it was real. Real teeth. Real gums. A mouth that opened too wide, too fast, too hungry . jeff the killer jumpscare
Leo sat up slowly. His face ached. He touched his cheek—no bruises, no cuts. Just the phantom memory of cold fingers. “Seriously,” Marcus agreed
Twenty minutes in, the TV glitched.