Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

Enemy of My Enemy

I shuffle my feet as I stand beside Jackie, waiting for Slenda to teleport us into what could be a trap. As soon as we're dropped in, it's fight or flight... or fright. Would a Terror even be fazed by my mask? It may just be a one-time use. Once they realize what it is, it'll lose all of its magic. All of the carefully cultivated fear within them will be flushed away by a refreshed sense of confidence. It's the unknown nature of the noise that gives it any potency.

"Three... two... one," Slenda's voice is the last memory we have of the mansion as we materialize in the forest.

With training so fully engraved in my instincts, I make for a tree and scamper up the side to sit on a high branch, keeping an ear out for both prey and predators. Nothing. It's a still, moonlit night interrupted only by a lost gust of wind which chills us to the bone.

Jackie looks at me from another tree and whistles like a goldfinch – the coast is clear.

Together, we drop down to the floor and huddle against each other, still keeping our eyes on the shadows of the woods. It may be clear, but who's to say there's no one watching us that we haven't spotted?

I pat Jackie's shoulder, and she pats mine; we break away and move along the tree line surrounding the magnolia. I watch the branches above, the roots below, and anything in between. Climbing up a tree, I reposition to throw off any pursuer that could possibly be stalking me.

Why am I doing this? Scarecrow helped me for a reason, I know that, but Zalga is too cunning. It makes me shiver knowing nothing about what goes on in that demoness's head. There's a part of me that doubts Scarecrow, that believes Zalga's somehow behind this. Am I overthinking it?

Shit, I need to focus. There's no messing around here, and it's too late to second-guess myself. There's only one shot of this ever working. It's do or die.

Finding nothing unusual around the meeting area, I stop on a tree and peer out at the magnolia through the dead leaves. Sure enough, I spot Scarecrow leaning against the trunk, her scythe resting in her crossed arms and arcing over her head like a guillotine.

Scarecrow brought a weapon? Does she think she's walking into a trap too? She may attack me on sight... No, of course not. Who frees someone just to kill them? Maybe I shouldn't underestimate the insanity of these people. It may end up killing me.

Retracing my steps, I follow the path I'd previously scouted back to where Jackie and I parted ways. I find her squatting under a fallen tree. Her head snaps at me when I enter her peripheral vision.

"Call it off," she stands and tells me up front.

I scrunch my face behind my mask, "Why?"

Jackie grabs my shoulder and leans close to my ear, whispering, "Scarecrow has her scythe, (Y/N). Her scythe."

I sigh, knowing Jackie is getting anxious, but I can't blame her.

"I saw it too, but she's not exactly going to put herself in a position where we could kill her easily. What happened to your trust in me?" I crouch down with her.

"I trust you," she hisses, "Not Scarecrow."

Walking closer to the tree line, I stare out at Scarecrow through the bushes, "We're not pulling back. We committed to this plan the moment Slenda put our boots on the ground. This might be what dulls Zalga's edge, Jackie!"

Jackie squeezes her knees, looking down at the snowy forest floor. Then, she relaxes her muscles with a short sigh.

"Was your side clear?" I ask her.

She nods, "Nothing unusual. Yours?"

"Not a living soul," I confirm.

"Contact Slenda," Jackie concedes, still staring at the ground.