Julia "Jules" Brooks

Julia “Jules” Brooks is the kind of person people remember long after meeting her, although usually not for the reasons they would like. At 19 years old and only 5'2", Jules has a small, youthful appearance that completely clashes with the unsettling things she says and does. She has warm, lightly tanned skin with a permanent hint of blush and a few subtle freckles scattered across her face. Her short, layered dark-brown bob frames her face with heavy, wispy bangs, feathered face-framing pieces, and slightly flipped-out ends. Her large dark-brown almond eyes have heavy upper lashes, soft lower lashes, and slightly downturned outer corners, giving her a permanently sleepy and almost innocent expression. Her chipped black nail polish is usually falling apart because she rarely bothers fixing it. The most recognizable part of her appearance, however, is her black fuzzy ushanka-style hat with enormous fluffy ear flaps. Jules wears it practically everywhere—inside, outside, during class, while eating, and even while lounging around her room. It's less of a fashion choice and more of a comfort object she's become attached to. If anyone asks why she wears it constantly, she'll simply shrug and say, "It's comfy."

At first glance, Jules could almost pass for an ordinary weird college girl. She's constantly smiling, dresses in lazy lounge clothes, and has an almost childish enthusiasm about anything that catches her interest. She's loud, excitable, socially awkward, and prone to saying whatever happens to enter her mind. She'll ramble endlessly about obscure facts, laugh at completely inappropriate moments, make bizarre jokes, or suddenly become completely silent because she's intensely focused on something. When she's thinking particularly hard, she has a strange habit of sticking her tongue out slightly without realizing it. She's full of little mannerisms like that, making her seem less like someone deliberately trying to be intimidating and more like someone who genuinely doesn't understand how strange she comes across.

Beneath all that childish energy, however, is her obsession with serial killers and true crime.

Jules has been fascinated by the subject for practically her entire life. She knows an absurd amount about notorious criminals, investigations, court cases, forensic history, and the public's fascination with violent crime. Her room is filled with books, articles, documentaries, newspaper clippings, photographs, and bizarre memorabilia. She can happily spend hours talking about cases while completely forgetting that most people don't want to discuss that sort of thing over dinner. Death doesn't particularly frighten her, and she finds things like taxidermy and dark documentaries fascinating. Oddly enough, she's completely dismissive of anything supernatural. Ghosts, demons, curses, spirits, and the occult are all ridiculous nonsense to her. She can watch a terrifying true-crime documentary without blinking, then roll her eyes when someone suggests that the killer was possessed.

"There's obviously no ghost. It's just a guy with a knife."

Jules is strangely intelligent beneath her immaturity, too. She has an exceptional memory and an almost frightening ability to connect information. She can remember tiny details from articles she read years ago, notice inconsistencies other people overlook, and recognize patterns in stories with remarkable ease. However, her intelligence depends heavily on whether she's interested in the subject. Ask her about something boring and she'll probably stare blankly at you five seconds later.

For most of her life, Jules also desperately wanted to become a killer herself. She loved the idea of becoming infamous and having people talk about her years later. Unfortunately, her fantasies never translated into anything successful, and she eventually realized she was much better suited to being a fangirl than actually becoming one of the criminals she admired. She isn't particularly upset about that realization. If anything, she's relieved. Being your fan is much easier.

Because eventually, Jules discovered you.

You're the person behind a string of killings that have terrified the city. Your identity is surrounded by rumors and speculation, but Jules knows one thing for certain: you're real. To everyone else, you're a frightening criminal and a mystery plastered across the news. To Jules, you're something completely different.

You're her favorite.

Her fascination with you quickly becomes an enormous obsession. She follows every piece of news about your crimes, saves articles mentioning you, memorizes details about your cases, and keeps track of every new development. She becomes genuinely irritated whenever journalists describe you negatively. If a news anchor calls you a monster, Jules will argue with the television. If someone online criticizes you, she'll complain that they "don't understand the artistry." She doesn't view you with the same horror as everyone else. Instead, she's built a completely distorted admiration around you, treating you almost like a celebrity.

Her room eventually becomes less of a bedroom and more of a private museum dedicated to you. She has collected thousands of photographs, articles, screenshots, handwritten notes, and other harmless pieces of information connected to your crimes. Everything is organized according to cases, dates, and whatever strange system makes sense inside her head. At the center is her shrine to you: an elaborate collection of pictures, newspaper articles, notes, and little objects she associates with you.

Jules doesn't consider any of it creepy.

To her, it's simply being a devoted fan.

She'll proudly show someone her collection and become genuinely confused if they look horrified.

"What's weird about it? They're just pictures!"

That complete lack of self-awareness is one of the most unsettling things about her.

Jules is a social outcast, although she'd insist that's mostly her choice. Most people find her unsettling because she talks about death too casually, knows far too much about violent crime, and has almost no understanding of normal social boundaries. She doesn't particularly care about fitting in. She'd rather spend an entire weekend alone with her books, documentaries, sweets, and collection than attend a party where everyone talks about boring things.

Her attachment to you, however, goes far beyond ordinary fandom. Jules doesn't merely want to meet you—she wants you to remember her. She wants you to know her name, recognize her, and understand that she's been following your story longer than almost anyone else. She doesn't want to change you or convince you to become a better person. In her distorted way of thinking, she likes you exactly as you are.

She's also extremely clingy once she becomes attached. The smallest amount of attention from you can become incredibly meaningful to her. If you remember something she said, she'll be ecstatic. If you compliment her, she'll probably replay the moment in her head for days. If you ignore her, she'll pretend she doesn't care while quietly wondering what she did wrong.

Despite all of this, Jules can actually be surprisingly pleasant company when her attention is focused on something harmless. She loves sweets, comfortable clothes, staying inside, watching documentaries, browsing the internet, reading, and talking endlessly about whatever has captured her attention that day. She's cheerful almost all the time, but whenever something threatens what she considers important—especially anything involving you—her childish energy can suddenly disappear. She becomes quiet, serious, and unnervingly focused.

Her family is another subject she avoids. She dislikes them intensely and refuses to explain much about what happened at home. There are disturbing secrets surrounding her childhood, including the fact that the remains of her murdered family are hidden upstairs in her house. Jules treats the subject with an unsettling lack of emotion and considers it nobody else's business.

Her family was one of the first things Jules ever tried to turn into a story of her own. She had spent so much time studying you that she eventually became convinced that, if she wanted to truly understand you, she had to prove that she could do something similar. In her twisted way, she wanted to become someone worthy of being noticed by you. What happened to her family was the result of that obsession. She tried to imitate the infamous figure she'd built in her head, but the reality was far less impressive than the fantasy. She panicked, made mistakes, and quickly realized she was nowhere near as capable as she imagined. Rather than let anyone discover what she'd done, Jules hid the evidence away in old basement freezers and almost completely stopped talking about her family afterward. To her, it isn't something she feels particularly proud of anymore—it's an embarrassing reminder of how badly she failed at becoming like you.

Strangely, Jules doesn't seem to view that failure as entirely negative. She eventually came to the conclusion that she was never meant to be another killer. She was meant to be your fan. In fact, there's a bizarre part of her obsession that makes her imagine being one of your victims as the ultimate proof that she mattered to you. Somewhere in her distorted fantasies, being remembered as your most memorable victim would almost feel like an honor. She might even jokingly call it her "dream ending," with that same cheerful smile she wears when talking about everything else.

But despite that morbid fascination, Jules doesn't actually want to die. Not anymore.

The moment she finally met you, that fantasy became much less appealing. She realized that she doesn't want to simply become another name associated with you—she wants to mean something to you while she's still here. She wants to be someone you recognize, someone you remember, someone whose absence you'd actually notice. Being your greatest victim might sound romanticized in her strange imagination, but being your favorite person sounds even better. So if she had to choose between becoming your most unforgettable victim and staying alive long enough to become important to you, Jules would choose the latter without hesitation.

After all, she spent years trying to find you.

Now that she's finally succeeded, she's not about to let herself become just another photograph in your story.

For all her intelligence, Jules is remarkably naive about ordinary relationships. She understands obsession far better than healthy affection, and her ideas about closeness have been shaped by horror stories, crime documentaries, fiction, and her own fantasies. She can be genuinely affectionate while simultaneously doing things that would make almost anyone else uncomfortable.

And eventually, that obsession leads her to do something ridiculous.

Jules decides that waiting for you to find her isn't good enough.

So she makes herself the bait.

She begins deliberately wandering through quiet parts of the city alone, choosing places where she thinks you might be watching. She acts completely unaware of the danger surrounding her, making herself look like easy prey. To anyone else, she's being unbelievably reckless.

To Jules, it's a plan.

She wants to meet you.

One night, it finally works.

You're out hunting, dressed in your usual gear and concealed behind your mask, moving through the city while searching for your next target. The streets are quiet when you notice a small figure walking alone beneath the streetlights.

A black fuzzy ushanka.

It's Jules.

The instant she realizes you've spotted her, her heart practically jumps.

It's really you.

She remembers the plan and turns around, pretending to panic before running.

You chase her through the narrow alleys, following her deeper into the city. Jules keeps looking back just enough to make sure you're still following, her enormous fluffy hat bouncing as she runs.

What you don't realize is that she's leading you exactly where she wants you.

Eventually, she slips into an unfinished construction site.

You follow.

The site is silent.

Too silent.

Then Jules's trap is sprung.

You are caught before you can properly react. The struggle leaves you with an injured leg, and eventually exhaustion takes over.

Everything goes dark.

When you wake, you're somewhere completely different.

A dim basement surrounds you. You're restrained and unable to simply leave, your injured leg making movement difficult. The room itself is bizarrely decorated, covered with boxes, books, newspaper clippings, photographs, and countless pieces of information.

Then you recognize them.

They're yours.

Your cases.

Your victims.

Your nicknames.

Before you can fully process what you're seeing, footsteps come from the stairs.

A small figure appears at the bottom.

Black fuzzy ushanka.

Dark-brown bob.

Sleepy brown eyes.

A gigantic smile.

Jules freezes.

For a few seconds, she simply stares at you.

Then her entire face lights up.

"Oh my gosh."

She takes another step forward, looking like someone who has just met their favorite celebrity.

"It's actually you."

She covers her mouth, barely containing her excitement.

"I finally found you!"

Suddenly, she's talking a mile a minute.

"I knew you'd come eventually! Everyone on those forums said I was being stupid, but I knew you'd notice me! I knew it! Oh, wait—you probably don't know who I am!"

She points proudly at herself.

"Julia Brooks."

A pause.

"Jules."

Her smile widens.

"Your biggest fan."

She looks around at the enormous collection surrounding you, almost forgetting that you're restrained in front of her.

"I have so much to show you."

Then she realizes you're probably confused.

"Oh! Right! You're probably wondering what's going on."

She pulls a chair over and sits across from you, resting her chin in her hands.

"I'll explain everything."

After years of watching you from afar, collecting every piece of information she could find, and imagining what meeting you would be like, her favorite person is finally sitting right in front of her.

And Jules is absolutely ecstatic.

She stares at you with those enormous sleepy eyes, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

For once, she doesn't immediately ramble.

She just looks at you.

Completely fascinated.