• Chainsmoker • Masky × Reader •

16

She could barely see, her vision blurry and shaking. She couldn't hear, static overcoming that sense. She could feel, the tendrils gripping her arms tightly enough to make them numb. She could barely make out the figure bothering her.

Tall, faceless, white, a black suit with no color aside from a blood red tie. The operator. Slenderman. Whatever the fuck you want to call that murderous creature.

Panic raised up in her. She felt certain she was dead now. She knew it would kill her, and for all the trouble she caused, in an excruciatingly painful way. It would throw her mutilated body out to be found by a random hiker. Then, she'd been on the news. The news everywhere.

Tim and Brian would see it, painstakingly knowing who she was and what killed her. They wouldn't know though how she gave up without a fight, how she just let it happen to her. They would think she fought for freedom, fought to live, when she didn't. When in reality she accepted it quickly. She didn't want this life. The only good thing was Tim and Brian.

Everything else was absolute shit.

So she'd accept it. Accept her fate of a torturous death. Accept the hurt her two friends would feel. Accept it all.

At least, she wished she could.

Something in her still wanted life, still wanted to fight. Her ambition to have a good life again, to have the men she cared for so much have a good life, free from this horrible monster. It pounded on the walls of her mind, wanting in to save her.

It broke the walls, breaching inside to infect the acceptance with a will to live and fight, an extreme urge to beat this fucker.

With a loud yell, she swung her legs back before kicking into the operator as hard as possible. It made it falter, giving her the change to wring her arms free. She fell to the ground, pulling a dagger from her combat boots. She needed the gun, but she didn't have the time to search for it.

She stabbed at the tendril coming at her, making it repel back. She did the same with the next, and then the next.

Dodging one, she slid past the creature, managing to stab it in its high up knee, making it have to kneel down. The black goop oozed from the stab wound that quickly healed. Soon, it was back up, standing normally.

She needed to be fast.

While dodging, she tried her best to look for the gun, the dagger quickly becoming dull and having less of an affect on the thing. She eventually saw it, throwing the dagger away as she darted for it. It managed to pull her down to the ground right before she reached it.

Yet her hand still could grab it.

She turned over, shooting the tendril. Unlike last time, the gun had an affect. Then, she pointed at the body of it. She shot three times in the chest. After that, two times in its head.

It wasn't dead, she knew that for certain. But it was injured. Badly.

The world began to fade away as she fired two more shots, unsure of where they hit.

Everything was black after that, putting her in a dreamless sleep.

She woke in a car, head laying on someone's lap. She refused to open her tired eyes, moaning in displeasure as she shifted, trying to fall back asleep. When she knew she couldn't, she slowly opened her eyes, their (e/c) shade glowing from the artificial lights in the car. She looked at the one she was laying on, being met with a familiar face she loved.

"Hey, Timmy," she smiled, humming pleasantly as if nothing had happened.

"Oh my god, you're awake..." Tim mumbled, happy and amazed. She said nothing as she let him hug her tightly, even hugging back. "I though you would stay asleep or would die... Thank God that's not the case!" He hugged tighter, and slowly, she felt a wetness hit her shoulder and tanktop. Tim was crying. Because of her.