The Strings Between Us

Between the Lines

She moved to the other side of the table, her hands resting lightly on the glowing wood.

"You're being weird," she said finally.

He didn't look at her.

"I'm always weird."

"No, not your usual weird. You're quieter. Different."

He was silent for a moment.

Then he said softly, "I don't usually show people that room."

"Then why did you show me?"

He finally met her eyes.

"Because you were the first one who ever asked... and didn't laugh at the answer."

Her breath caught in her chest as he felt his cheeks burn and immediately looked away.

He hated how much he trusted her.

He then turned back to face her as they both stood there, staring at each other across the glowing table.

No jokes. No barbs.

Just that heavy, humming silence.

Belinda wanted to say something. Anything. But all she could manage was—

"You really want to help me?"

"I wouldn't be risking this if I didn't."

"Why?"

He hesitated.

Then, voice low:

"Because you remind me of someone or something familiar. In my dreams. Something I've been searching for but can't quite understand."

Belinda's lips parted, but she said nothing.

"I don't know what I want from you," he continued. "But... if I get that book back, I'll give you your choice. Human again, or stay here. You'll get that decision. Not a curse. Not a cage."

Belinda was caught off guard.

Something stirred deep in her chest. She looked away.

Silence bloomed between them, thick and strangely fragile.

"...Why would you offer me that?" she asked at last, her voice quiet, as if afraid to break the moment. "After everything? After what I've seen you do?"

Slappy didn't answer right away. He turned from her, glancing toward the shadows where the firelight didn't quite reach.

"Because I've never offered it to anyone," he said finally. "Not even myself."

Belinda blinked, heart skipping. She stood slowly, watching his silhouette in the flicker of the flames.

Her brows furrowed. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"If it was," he muttered, "you'd already be wound up, stuffed in a music box, and sent back to that wizard in a bow."

She gave a soft, incredulous laugh.

"Charming."

"I'm not trying to be," Slappy said, facing her now, his carved expression unreadable—eyes too old, too deep. "I just... I know what it's like to have your strings pulled. To have no say. So if I can change that for someone—maybe just once—I'll do it."

"But why me?" Her voice cracked with confusion. "You barely know me."

He took a single step closer, slow, deliberate. "You're the first one who ever looked at me like I was more than a puppet. And you're the first person I've looked at and thought... maybe I don't want to be one, either."

Belinda's throat tightened. She felt the shift in the air—thick with the unspoken.

She looked down at the floor.

"I... I don't know." She whispered, not knowing what to say nor think.

As much as she despised to admit it, she enjoyed Slappy's company. But she knew that choosing to stay with him was no where near rational nor practical, and she definitely knew that she did not want to be stuck in this China doll body for another second.

The silence stiffened the room until Slappy finally spoke.

"So, shall we head on our little quest?" He asked awkwardly, clearing his throat.

Belinda tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and nodded slowly in response.

~~~

They descended the tower stairs together, neither speaking, until they reached the portal chamber — a room lined with mirrors and flickering shadows.

The portal glowed in the floor like a pool of oil and starlight, swirling violently.

Slappy approached the edge.

"When we step through, time gets weird. Things move fast. Be ready for anything."

"What about disguises? If we're in the human world..."

He pulled a red velvet box from the shadows and opened it.
Inside was a black lace half-mask and a small glass vial of glimmering silver.

"The mask is yours. The potion will shift your features just enough to pass as human. Temporarily."

"What about you?"

"I'll wear a cloak and use charm," he smirked. "I'm very charming when I need to be."

She gave him a flat look. "You're lucky you're cute when you're not talking."

He paused, lips parting slightly. But he didn't joke back.

Instead, he stepped closer.

"Once we step through," he said, voice low and steady, "you'll see what kind of man R.L. Stine really is. He plays at being a creator... but he's just as much a jailor as anyone who ever cursed me."

"You despise him?"

"I despise what he did. But I respect his power."

They stood on the edge of the swirling dark.

He held out his hand to her.

"One last chance to back out, dollface."

She looked at his hand. At the portal.

Then at him.

And she took it.