Chapter Text
Despite the summer's warm breaths of air, freezing rain chilled your skin, soaking your bones, as it trampled hard onto your body. You had hoped to take shelter under a large oak tree, expecting its full branches and leaves to block the rain. There was no where for you to go – not for a better hiding place, anyway. As your body shivered uncontrollably, you regrettably began to reminisce the reasons why you were in this predicament in the first place.
You had killed them.
All of them.
The bullies, your parents; they were all dead by your hands.
It was a well thought out plan for someone your age. A young teen in high school, making about average grades only so you could get out of school and get away from everyone. That didn't happen, though. You couldn't stand it anymore. Instead, you had snapped. You plotted out taking care of the bullies first.
There wasn't much that you could remember – not in great detail – of how you killed those wretched girls that tortured you every school day. All you did know was that their throats had been slit over the bathroom sinks and toilets. Something about making a clean kill was to your liking. Right after slicing the final throat with a scalpel you had stolen from biology class, you darted out of the back door, racing home before anyone could notice your's and the girls' disappearance.
As for your family, they were a little complicated to kill; however, you had watched their living patterns for several weeks, taking note of every detail. On that particular day, your lifegivers both had the day off of work. It was still ten in the morning, and they were sleeping in. All you could remember was the musically sweet gurgling of your mother and father drowning in their own blood. There was, however, a flash of some rage that you had. Perhaps something set you off – the memories of their abuse and ridicule? Before the bubbles of blood finished boiling, you had begun to repeatedly stab your parents in the chest with that same scalpel from school. Only after the strong scent of iron filled your lungs did you manage to stop yourself from continuing. Your parents had been long dead by then.
You made your final escape into your back yard. A thick forest awaited you, branches outstretched as though welcoming your sinful self.
It was too late to question morals. You had gotten your revenge. Now you had to live with it.
Unfortunately, your planning of this particular day ended at the murder of your parents. You didn't think things through on where you would hide or how you would survive on your own. There was no doubt that the police would be searching for you within mere hours. The only thing you could do, for now, was make as much distance between you past and present as your legs could carry you.
That's when the clouded sky broke out into a downpour of cold rain. You quickly found an enormous oak tree with thick cover, taking shelter underneath. Despite this, you were already soaked, and the tree wasn't much help.
So, there you lay, curled against the base of the wooded giant and shivering like a madman. The dim sky reminded you that it was just barely noon. Night wouldn't fall for quite some time, and already you felt as though you were going to die. At least the rain was washing away the blood you had become stained with.
A deep voice faintly kissed your ears. At least, it sounded like a voice. Maybe you were hallucinating and it was just thunder in the distance?
“She lacks the purity I crave,” the deep, honey-lemon voice was clear now. It seemed as though the owner were talking to himself.
A pair of pristine black dress shoes calmly stepped into your view. From what little you could see, there seemed to be equally as black slacks perfectly hanging above the footwear. Your vision blurred, then darkness overwhelmed you.
You awoke to that dreadful ringing in your ears. It was the only sound in the room, save for your breathing. This room, though, was most unfamiliar. The luscious bed covers and sheets were what you noticed first. They were a dark burgundy, barely visible in the dimness of the room's light. All that illuminated the area was a gray aura beaming through the silk window curtains. It seemed to be daylight, but you weren't sure how long you had been unconscious.
The next thing that caught your attention was the fact that you had new clothes on. Nothing special. Just a set of long-sleeved pajamas and a matching pair of paints.
They weren't even your favorite color.
Then it hit you: someone dressed you. Someone saw you naked!
Your heart lept into your throat, full of dread and panic. Reminding yourself that you were in a stranger's home, you held down the urge to scream. The best thing to do was keep quiet and sneak out as soon as possible.
So you did – or tried to.
The window wouldn't budge. It looked pretty old and worn, so it was probably jammed. The last thing you needed to do was break the window open. That would make too much noise. Besides, from the view outside of the window, you were on the second floor of whatever sort of building you were in.
A vast expanse of towering dark trees were spread as far as the window would allow you to see. Sprouting from the limbs of these dark trees were vibrant orange and yellow leaves. The contrast between the bark and vegetation was surprisingly striking. Never had you seen these sorts of trees before. Where exactly were you?
Shrugging off your wonderment, you decided to act on the now and figure out the later when it became a now. It made sense in your head, anyway.
Tip-toeing across the room and to the modestly decorated wooden door, you placed a hand ever so gently on its cold bronze knob. The faintest of sounds involving metal against metal irked you. It didn't matter that you were probably the only one who could hear it. The fact that you were making any noise at all was bad enough. If only you could stop breathing and still function. Luckily for you, the door pulled open without a peep. In fact, it was eerie how silent it was, almost as though it didn't even exist.
The dark hallway didn't bode well for your plan of escape. The further down its length you looked, the darker it became. How long was that hallway? It was then that your eyes took in the vague shapes of other doors and doorways; all evenly separated as they lined the hall walls. They didn't matter to you, though. You needed a staircase or elevator, depending on what type of building you were in. So far, it seemed like a large house. A mansion? It was decorated rather royally.
Shaking your thoughts aside, you tried to focus on task. One at a time, you inched your way down the wooden floor of the hallway. It never creaked. It never groaned. The ringing in your ears continued to sing to you.
It was only a few feet down the length of the corridor that you began to hear a sort of rushed thumping grow closer to you. It sounded distant at first, sort of below you. Someone was coming up the stairs! You still didn't quite know where they were.
In a fit of panic, you dashed into the first door nearest to you, swinging it open and nearly slamming it closed, but you caught yourself. Once again, it was dark. Darker than the hallway. You didn't mind, though. You were too busy listening for the footsteps that padded toward you, then past you. A nearby door clicked. You were safe.
Or not.
Raspy gasps of breaths sounded somewhere behind you. Someone was in the room with you. Your heart dropped. You could feel your skin grow pale as your blood began to drain to who knows where. Then, the voice followed with the gasps of air.
“Why,” a weak male voice brushed your ears as he gasped between every few words, “must you guys play hide-and-seek in my room?”
Should you speak up? Should you just walk out? And what sort of place was this where strangers who kidnapped you are playing hide-and-seek of all things? Now you were ultimately puzzled.
“Who is it?” The mysterious male's voice rasped again.
Considering how he sounded sick or injured, you didn't think that this guy was one of your kidnappers. Maybe he was a victim, too. Thus, it wouldn't hurt to speak up. Heck, he might even know what this place is.
You parted your lips, ready to answer your possible new friend. Taking in a quick breath of strangely delicious air, you considered what you could possibly say. “Hi, my name is ____?” No, that's too informative. You wanted to remain cautious. What if he was a cop? “I was kidnapped?” There was still the chance that he was one of your kidnappers. “Tell me what's going on first?” Yeah, that's good. Demanding and stern. You didn't want to seem weak in front of a supposed threat. So, you manged to get out the first two words of your selected sentence, but then the door behind you swung open. You were easily knocked to the floor, managing to catch yourself on your hands and knees. Others noises of someone grunting and things clinking violently reached your ears.
The light flicked on, illuminating the whole room quite well. You were hardly able to take in your new surroundings before a creepily playful voice sounded behind you.,“My, my. It seems our new piece of candy has woken up.” You slowly turned your head to peek over your shoulder, partially not wanting to see who this person was. He had just referred to you as a “piece of candy”, which could only mean one thing: he was a rapist.
At the very moment you laid eyes on the supposed rapist, you found yourself staring at a black and white clown of sorts. His long cone-shaped nose and feathered shoulders were the oddest parts of him. Horizontal stripes littered his long sleeves and leggings. Black overalls clasped onto the midsection of him. His attire certainly confirmed the worst in your fears. This man looked to be someone who had been put in jail, which meant that he did something pretty bad, which meant that he probably raped someone!
In a spastic jolt of realization, you covered your very vulnerable posterior with your hands and spun around on your knees. “Please don't rape me!” The words escaped your lips before you could think over how futile they would be against a dangerous person such as that.
“Rape you?” The clown arched a brow at you, almost as though he had never heard of the word before.
A familiar raspy voice sounded behind you, “She doesn't want to play, Jack.”
With a shrug, this “Jack” smirked and stepped around you toward the other man's bedside. You cautiously followed Jack with your eyes, still covering your butt. The man he approached looked normal enough. Normal skin, normal dark hair, a normal face. The only thing odd about him were the dark circles under his eyes. He must be in bad shape.
You climb to your feet and took the liberty of inspecting what was going on at the bed. Jack had carried in a silver tray of several different dishes. One involved steaming soup, another a simple glass of water, and a plate of toast. In one corner of the tray, there were a handful of prescription medicine bottles. You deduced that this still unnamed man was very ill.
Never mind that, though. You were supposed to be escaping this place. Yet, the fact that no one was panicking on your ability to move freely around this mysterious building puzzled you. Maybe you didn't need to escape just yet. The first couple of words, you stuttered, still not sure if you could speak freely. May as well try, though, “Where am I?” This was not as demanding and powerful as you had originally planned. Stupid!
Jack carefully placed the silver tray and its contents over the other man's lap. By now, the sick man had sat up, though still looking fragile. Jack glanced at you, “Why, you're in the great Slenderman's mansion, tootsie-pop.”
You flinched at Jack's utterance of your new nickname. It was better than what the bullies would call you, but still.
Then it struck you. “Slenderman,” you mumbled, concerning yourself over how familiar that name sounded. Even Jack's appearance seemed recognizable, after further thought.
“I was told that there was a new Proxy candidate,” Jack continued on.
“Proxy,” you echoed. Thoughts and memories swirled in your head as you tried to search for why these things sounded so darn familiar. And then it call came flooding back. The Proxies, the Slenderman, Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer, Sally, and so many more Creepypastas! “Oh, my friggin'-”
A long, black finger was placed over your lips to stop your outburst. Jack cooed, “Now, now. Let's keep things down in Masky's room. He needs to rest.”
Your eyes nearly popped out of you head as your conclusions were further proven correct. Excitement, panic, fear, delight; all these emotions wanted to burst out of you at once. You were actually in the Creepypasta mansion! The one that you had read stories about on the internet! The very building that everyone thought of as just a load of fairy tales! What's even better is that you were a candidate for becoming a Proxy!
Okay, okay. Keep calm. Don't fan-girl around the Creepypastas. They might kick you out before you get a chance to prove yourself.
After catching your breath and calming your blood, you asked Jack if it was okay for you to wander the mansion. To your surprise, Jack replied, “Go right ahead, peppermint.” The nickname wasn't so much of a surprise, though.
Struggling to suppress your excitement, you lightly bounced out of Masky's bedroom and strolled further down the hall toward the stairway that you had heard footsteps from earlier. The hall light was on now, most likely Jack's doing. The dark wooden walls were decorated with exquisite antique paintings and tapestries. No doubt, this was Slenderman's collection of historical items over the many millennia he's lived through. You bit your lip, still fighting your urges to giggle madly, and descended the grand staircase. It dark gray marbled steps were beautifully carved, and the bronze hand railings gave a wonderful accent against the otherwise gloomy colors within the mansion.
The very moment your foot reached the bottom of the staircase, a powerfully deep voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. Your ears filled with his all too soothing sounds. “____,” he called your name. For the first time, you actually enjoyed hearing it.
You glanced around the large tiled lobby that was lit up by a grand chandelier above you. Eventually, your eyes landed on a tall, pale figure. His sharp suit clashed with the utterly white skin of this faceless man. You know exactly who he was.
“Slenderman,” the name slipped off your tongue without a thought.
You would soon regret your mistake.