It’s been a few days since our adventure at the video store. To be honest I’m surprised we still have those around, due to all the fancy new methods of watching TV, like Netflix and pay-per-view. But whatever. It’s been nice, just lazing about the house with Masky, er Tim.
Sometimes he goes out to do things, but generally he stays at my place. I guess he’s had his fill of people, since he doesn’t seem to like them very much. But he makes alright company.
I finish dumping a cupful of dog food into Smile’s bowl then trudge back into the living room. My vision’s still hazy from waking up. Tim’s passed out on the big leather chair, his legs draping off one of the arm rests, while he’s leaning up against the back of it with his arms pulled up to his chest. He looks so defensive when he sleeps. I frown slightly, wondering what his story was. People didn’t just... end up like him, when they had a happy story.
My frown deepens.
I hate people.
I watch him for a few more minutes, watching his chest and sides rise and fall unevenly, as he breathed. I can only imagine how many drugs have run around that kid’s body, and oddly it makes me feel bad for him. I watch him for a moment longer, kind of amazed at how defenseless he looks.
After a few seconds longer, I finally realize what I’m doing. Pity was something I didn’t do anymore. Stupid human emotions, would only make me more that. Human.
And humans were weak.
Irritated with myself, I grab an empty beer can off the table, it feels cold against my hand and toss it at Tim.
“Hey Masky! Get up!”
The metallic scrap of metal lands on Tim’s chest, and as soon as it does, I watch him fly up from his spot in the chair, eyes wide, and alarm dancing across his features. His dark brown gaze rests on me, and the shock on his face quickly jumps to anger. “Oh fuck off Jeff! What the Hell?”
“We have stuff to do today.” I say, rolling my shoulders back in a shrug, as I lean into the plush leather couch beneath me. Which was true, we did have stuff to do today. Stuff I’d rather not do, but had to be done, and sooner more than later. In fact I’m kind of surprised I hadn’t got the order earlier but I guess keeping the world in balance is a busy job as is, and Slenderman didn’t have time to get back to me right off the bat. And it’s not like his associate, Hoodie, was a very productive guy.
Either way, this morning I’d gotten a message of sorts. I guess you could call it a message, since no mouth means no voice. At least not a physical voice. It’s never really been strange to me, that Slendy speaks through telepathy and no with an actual voice. It’s something you’d almost expect.
All the same, this morning’s message was an order to bring Tim to Under Castle. If I knew Slendy, that probably meant he was going to have Tim take the test. All the proxy’s had to take the test. Run through Screamer’s Forest, and try to collect 8 pages before the Sickness overtook you. The number of pages you acquired was how you were ranked.
I’d managed to get 6 myself, the only reason why I’m not Slendy’s right hand man, and the reason why Hoodie is, is because he managed to get 7. So far no one’s managed to get 8.
“Since when the hell do we have stuff to do? Unless it’s buying beer or robbing places.” Tim runs a hand through his dark brown hair and sits up in the chair. He blinks a few times, then tries to kill a yawn, but it manages to escape his lips anyway.
“I’m taking you to meet the boss.” I fix him with an onyx grey gaze, and quirk an eyebrow. “You know, the one I was telling you about on the day we met.”
“Oh that thing about monsters and proxy’s? Are we still playing that game?”
I sigh. Seems like this was still a game in Tim’s mind. Not like it’s that surprising, I just wish he could try to use his imagination for just one second. The Test could get rough, it almost always does. And I can’t say I want to see Tim succumb to it.
“For fuck’s sake, Tim.” I slip my legs off the couch then rise to my feet and make my way over to the dining room table. Placed on it, is my knife, which as usual is covered in blood, and right now it hasn’t oxidised yet. The blood is still a deep scarlet colour. “Does this look like a game to you?” I ask holding up the blade, handle gripped in my hand.
Tim shrugs, his gaze barley giving the knife a second glance, before it’s back on my eyes. “I’ve seen a bloody knife before. For all I know you could be out robbing people on the streets. That would be a perfect explanation.”
“I guess you’ll believe me after tonight.” I’m not going to bother arguing with him. Because he’s in for enough of a shock, and if I say anything more, I know it’s going to get me nowhere. So I bite my tongue and just slip my knife into the front pocket on my hoodie.
Today was going to be a long day.
“Uh huh...” Tim replies, his voice still disbelieving.
After a moment of irritated silence, I trudge back to the kitchen, and Tim slips off the couch and disappears. I wrench open a few cupboard drawers and scavenge for whatever food was left in my house. Most of the time I either ordered pizza, or bought a ton of TV dinners, because cooking is so over rated. The shower goes off in the distance and I can hear the hot water hissing down against the ceramic basin.
“Crazy bastard, does he think he owns the place?” I roll my eyes, but it makes me oddly happy, that Tim hangs around. It can get awful lonely just hanging out with Smile. And Tim’s pretty admirable when it comes to his skills on the streets, we’ve been robbing places left and right. And Tim’s always got everything under control when we do.
But with all the stuff we’ve been doing it feels like forever since I’ve gone out on a murder spree.
I don’t really know what it is about killing people that gets me so excited and wound up. Hearing them scream, watching them try to get away, watching them desperately try to escape death. It’s such a thrill. They are the prey, and I am the predator. Watching life drain from fear filled eyes, there’s just a certain thrill to it that makes butterflies dance in my stomach. Just the thought of putting a knife through people’s chests, makes my blood speed through my veins and my hand instinctively reach for my knife. The handle feels so natural in my grip, and even though there’s more powerful weapons out there, I feel like I can take on anything, and masterfully mutilate it in the most beautiful of ways.
Yes it’s been much too long since I’ve felt warm blood drench my hands.
I could always go freak Tim out. Maybe I’d get a rush from that. He’s in the shower too, which would be a beautiful setting. Murdering people in the bath tub is always interesting. Not as fun as when they’re in their beds, but there’s still something sweet about watching blood and water mix together in a symphony of texture.
I actually contemplate it for a few moments, sneaking into the bathroom, blade in hand, then suddenly ripping the shower curtains off their hinges above, pouncing on Tim, listening to the gasp of shock I know he’d make. I could just imagine pressing up against him, knife to his throat, just as I’d done before. Hot water raining down on me, feeling nearly like blood.
Oh but killing Tim I’d simply gain nothing from that. I’d miss having him around. Ah but the sounds I could get him to make. I clutch the handle of my knife even tighter, and absently run my finger across the blade of it. I press a little too hard, and it splits my skin open, stinging the flesh beneath.
The little sting is enough to bring me back to reality, snapping me out of my little bloodlust.
I blink. What the fuck. That was a little different. That almost didn’t seem violent either.
Tim, shower, knife, lack of death.
“Fuck, it’s been too long since I’ve killed shit.” I sigh, placing my free hand over my face, and putting my knife back into my hoodie pocket. I let a lungful of oxygen run to my lungs as I try to push the thoughts away, and the weird feeling in my stomach.
I lift my finger out in front of me to examine it. A small trail of blood is slowly making its way to my palm. I bring the little cut to my mouth, licking the blood away and purposely rubbing my tongue against the exposed flesh.
Pain doesn’t bother me though. Pain is nice.
By the time I get out of the shower, Jeff’s changed into a bleach white hoodie, and a fresh pair of black denim skinny jeans. I make a face. Skinnies were the worst to ever get booked in. Try out running a cop in those, and you’re bound to lose.
He’s sitting on his usual spot on the couch with his dog curled up next to him. Smile’s kind of weird, although I don’t really mind him. He’s a little creepy though, weird as smile similar to Jeff’s scars, and it’s bad enough he’s the size of a small bear.
Jeff looks up at me when I come into the room, and raises an eyebrow.
“Ready to go?”
“I guess.” I roll my shoulders back in a shrug. I have to admit I am curious to see what Jeff’s got planned for today. He’s acting like its some big deal, and despite the fact I still don’t believe this stupid stuff about proxies and monsters, it’s still bothering me that the video store clerk couldn’t see him...
I try not to dwell on the thought, and thankfully Jeff throws a thick black hoodie at me, snapping me from my thoughts. I catch it, and don’t argue about putting it on. I slip it over my head and run my arms through the silky black fabric, then gaze around the room to see where I put my mask. Locating it on the coffee table, I lean over the couch and reach across Jeff to grab it.
He sighs, and I can smell blood on him, which I find odd, considering he’s actually wearing clothes that aren’t drenched in brown or crimson.
“You smell like blood.”
He holds up a finger, there’s a fairly nice slash running down his index finger, the skin is red but it’s not bleeding, although it looks like it had been.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing really, feels nice.”
I roll my eyes “Masochist.”
He chuckles “Something like that.”
I stare at him for a moment, confused, before retreating and slipping my mask over the side of my head, so it just hung there if I needed it. “When are we going?”
“Now. You took a long ass time in the shower.” Jeff leaps off the couch, and Smile follows after him making a thud as his paws hit the light grey carpet, his tail sweeping back and forth through the air making multiple little ‘swoosh’ noises.
“I took like half an hour.” I grumble out in protest, it’s a pointless agreement, but I feel like arguing since I don’t want Jeff to think he’s right all the time. I wait for a snarky reply, but it doesn’t come, instead we walk to the front door in silence. And it isn’t till we’re down the hall way of Jeff’s apartment, that he finally replies.
“Just, whatever happens today try to keep your head on straight.”
The tone in his voice surprises me, he almost sounds tired or weary. And he’s not looking at me with that childish challenge in his onyx gaze. And when I look him in the eyes, he looks away and keeps walking. Smile pads loyally at his side, claws clicking as we enter the elevator. Since I’m used to Jeff acting like a smart ass little bastard, his silence is kind of unnerving and for the first time since I’ve met him, he does kind of come off as being creepy.