Can't Say

Chapter 21

      With the silence of the mansion's first floor filling your ears, you had a chance to actually sit back and graze over all that had happened so far. The very knowledge of your possible future as a slave had you falling mentally exhausted. Physically, your muscles were starting to ache – the adrenaline wearing out of your body. You decided it best to get to bed right away. Night was closing in. You hoped to sleep heavily until morning.
      Almost as soon as your head made contact with the pillow, you dozed off into comfort and relaxation. Your mind gave in to the arduous trials of the day.
     You were doing well, in terms of sleeping heavily. The majority of your dreams were full of random events and characters – your typical theme – to which you barely noticed passed by.
      Some time during the night, though, a far more powerful dream slithered into your mind. It crawled on to you just as sinister and mysterious as your master. You barely noticed the dream was happening until you felt the familiar weight and ferocity of Slenderman's body on top of yours. You could smell his clothes, the heat of his breath. His slimy tongue was exploring your neck again, and your ears rumbled at the sound of his pleased growls.
      A clawed hand traced over your bare skin, pushing up your sweatshirt. The fingers became familiar with the shape of your rib cage, shying away from the edges of your breasts. All the while, you could only watch with wide eyes. Your limbs refused to move at your command; not even the urge to flinch a muscle would respond. You could hear something – panting – coming from you. Air rushed in and out of your throat. Slenderman didn't seem to notice, if he even cared. 
      From beyond the sounds of your rapid breathing, you recognized familiar whispering. The hisses of incoherent words slowly accumulated. You soon noticed your master's once empty face now had a pair of hollow, black eye sockets. Whispers of darkness flickered out from them. He looked oblivious to the sudden gain of new orifices in his head as he continued to explore your body.
      Above the jumbled whispers, you heard Slenderman demand his usual from you, “What am I to you?” His mouth, black and pouring out darkness, motioned accordingly to his words. 
      At this point, you didn't even care what Slenderman was doing to you. The effects of this Darkness were far more concerning. You tried to call out to him, only to feel your voice blocked by something. This only panicked you further, causing you to hyperventilate and try with all you could to scream. 
      Things spiraled out of control. Rather than looking concerned, Slenderman became malicious. It was as though the Darkness had taken control of him! He raised a hand, aiming it at you with his bony fingers. Your master's growl joined with the now deafening whispers. You tried again and again to gain results from yourself; scream, yell, swing an arm, kick a leg – anything! All you could do was watch with unblinking eyes as Slenderman plunged his hand into your stomach and ripped out your organs. The burning sensation in your gut was the final straw.
      You jolted in your bed, screaming in protest as you tried to fight off your master.
      The tall being's form only faded away. It wasn't like his usual way of sudden disappearance. You stared after him, though, expecting the being to come back. Your lungs heaved air in and out, trying to catch your breath. It was quickly apparent to you that your intestines were still in place. There wasn't even a mark on you – aside from the scar Eyeless Jack had caused. Even so, you could still feel the burning sensation within the back of your mind. 
      Glancing to your digital clock, you were disappointed to see that it was 3AM sharp. This didn't put you at ease.
      It was obvious, after your breathing had settled, that you weren't going to be sleeping again for a long while. You needed to get out of your room. It just didn't feel safe there anymore.
      You aimlessly wandered the mansion through acquainted paths, still far too apprehensive to explore new, dark places. The countless shadows peeking from every corner kept you on edge. There were times that you were sure you could see the Darkness creeping from their depths. You quickened your pace, trying to travel somewhere that had an ally you could be near. 
      The first resident you discovered was BEN. He was in the living room, focused on the Majora's Mask game as his fingers pushed and tapped the controller buttons. You considered sitting with him on the couch, but you quickly recalled your first meeting with him. The thought of being set on fire again didn't appeal to you in the least. With a small cringe, you crept away from the living room doorway and traversed down the hall to reach the kitchen. Maybe a snack would help you calm down.
      Upon reaching the kitchen access, you noticed that the light was already on. You entered, finding Hoodie sitting on a bar stool at the counter. His mask was lifted just above his nose to make way for his current ingestion. He was presently taking a huge swig of liquid from a caramel-colored glass bottle. No doubt, it was beer. From the side view you had, it looked like Hoodie was in deep thought. He just stared off across the counter, not even acknowledging your presence, if he even noticed it.
      As you took a few steps into the kitchen, you decided to at least announce your existence with a subtle clear of your throat. This backfired, however, as Hoodie flinched at your abrupt noise. He adjusted his grip on the beer bottle to hold its neck, raising it above his head like a club. Hoodie turned to you with this pose, glaring you down and ready to strike. All the while, the rest of his beer was steadily pouring down his arm and splashing onto the marble floor.
      The awkward moment of staring each other down was nothing less. Thankfully, Hoodie recognized you and released a sigh. He lowered his now empty bottle and slid off the bar stool to clean up his mess with a nearby old towel.
      “Ah-um-Sorry, Hoodie,” you stammered, trying to apologize for startling the man. It didn't occur to you earlier, but there was a weight in the air. Something dark and tense. This wasn't quite the same as the Darkness you had experienced, but similar to the stress in the briefing room yesterday. It filled your lungs with a thick pressure, but you did your best to hold firm.
      With a wave of his hand, Hoodie interrupted your thoughts to brush off your apology, “You tried. I'm just on edge.” You were honestly surprised that he was being so forgiving, but you happily accepted.
      Now that the ice was broken, you moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, not feeling up to a snack anymore. “Maybe talking about it would help?” You didn't care if you would be able to help Hoodie with his problems. All you wanted was to forget about the whispers and the Darkness.
      “Nothing to talk about,” Hoodie responded. He opened a drawer and found another towel to finish his spilled beer. “It's just typical aftermath of Zalgoid encounters.”
      You paused in mid-reach for your desired bottle of water, “You're having nightmares, too?” This was the opposite of what you wanted to talk about, but maybe you could get answers.
      Wiping down his hoody sleeve, the yellow-clad man replied with a bit of disdain in his voice, “All of the Proxies do. I'm sure Masky and Toby are up somewhere.”
      “What are your dreams like?” You snatched your water bottle and closed the fridge, turning to Hoodie. You watched him toss the used towel into the sink and walk passed you to the fridge.
      Hoodie reached in and plucked another beer bottle from the large supply, “Exactly what you experience when you're awake.”
      You hesitated, still watching your teammate as you mulled over the memories of your recent nightmare. “Mine started out with,” your voice broke, embarrassed of the memories, but you admitted to them anyway, “Master acting strange in my bed.”
      Cracking open his beer on the counter edge, Hoodie returned to his stool, not bothering to keep any sort of eye contact with you. “Right. You were supposed to tell me more about that.”
      Part of you felt relief to Hoodie's recollection of the last time you tried to console in him about Slenderman's odd behavior behind closed doors. Another part of you kind of hoped he didn't know what you were talking about, and the both of you could just ignore it altogether. Still, you pressured yourself to gather your thoughts and sum up your experiences with your master. “He always does this when I'm in bed,” you slowly strode over to Hoodie's side, “He'll lick me and insist I call him 'master' a few times.” You leaned on the counter and traced your fingers over your still unopened water bottle.
      By this point, Hoodie had turned his head to you, staring you down. From the slight contortion of his exposed lips, you could see his vague disgust at your words. He hadn't even taken a sip of his beer yet.
      Eventually, the silence was broken when Hoodie turned his head away from you, breathing out a, “What the fuck?”
      Your chest tightened at Hoodie's delayed reaction. From all the talk about how Proxies were practically slaves, you partially had assumed that it was normal for the Slender family to borderline molest you – regardless of gender. Hoodie's reaction dowsed that idea, though. You were here, singled out, and being handled by your master quite differently than your fellow Proxies. Still, you wanted confirmation. You needed Hoodie to tell you directly if what you thought was true, “S-so that's not normal?”
      “Shit no,” Hoodie took a large swig of his beer, probably trying to swallow the situation whole.
      “W-well, what do I do?!”
      Hoodie fell silent, pondering the possibilities.
      Whether it was impatience, panic, or both, you came to your own conclusion, “Maybe I should confront him-”
      “No.” Hoodie interjected. He gripped his beer bottle tightly. “As Proxies, we don't get to question his authority.” There was a hint of defeat in his voice. For a brief moment, you saw Masky sitting next to you, and pity filled your eyes.
      With a sigh and what fight you had left within, you replied, “It's more sexual harassment than authority, though.”
      Swirling his gloved thumb over the glass bottle, Hoodie mumbled something in reply, “Haven't . . . women . . . since I . . . Proxy.” You only heard bits and pieces, but even those you weren't sure you had heard correctly. In response, you urged Hoodie to repeat himself more clearly, but he just shrugged you off with, “Nothing,” and sipped his beer.
      There were several long moments of silence after this. Just the two of you sipping on your drinks and mulling over what you had discussed. Though you would toss glances at your yellow comrade, he never once gave you acknowledgment during that time of false peace. Hoodie seemed to be back in deep thought. Whether it was about the Darkness or Slenderman's odd behavior, you couldn't tell. For you, though, Hoodie's reaction to your statement made you nearly forget about the terrors that the Zalgoids wrecked upon your mind.
      This world of Creepypastas was a twisted sort – not that you should have expected anything less. When you had delved into the fandom through the internet, you thought yourself desensitized to the horrors that lurked in the dark. How wrong you were. Reading and listening to horror stories created fear, yes, but not true fear. 
      Being here; being a part of the Creepypasta world; being a member of the lowest rank in that world; you knew true fear. Here, you knew helplessness. There are no policemen or adults to protect you. If Slenderman was feeling kind, you maybe had a chance of protection – of peace. Otherwise, even your bed wasn't a sanctuary. There was danger around every corner, every nook and cranny of your mind.
      Rather than his more entranced sips of beer, Hoodie abruptly shoved his beer bottle into his mouth and chugged the remainder of his beverage. He got up from his seat, pulling the bottle from his mouth, and walked away to toss the container into the trash. “I have to go.”
      “Where?” You weren't sure why you bothered asking. Maybe the new urgency of his demeanor fueled your curiosity.
      Hoodie didn't turn to you, walking out of the only kitchen doorway as he retorted, “Mind your own business.”
      Gawking after the man from where you leaned on the counter, you began to consider that Hoodie had the mood swings of a pregnant woman. Perhaps that was an exaggeration.
      Once Hoodie's heavy boots faded out of hearing range, you realized that you were back to being enveloped in nearly total silence. At least when your teammate was here, you could still listen to his breathing and occasional swish of beer. The silence was quickly bothering you again. You were sure you could hear the Zalgoid whispers just barely within audible range. Panic was setting in once again.
      You straightened out from your position on the counter, taking your water with you, and began a new search for company. Maybe you would take your chances with BEN this time. At least you could listen to his game and the tapping of his controller.
      As soon as you turned the corner into the hallway, you bumped into something solid, yet covered in a layer of fabric. For no other reason than you were currently thinking about the Darkness, you assumed you had bumped into a Zalgoid. This sent you reeling back, letting out a yelp of surprise. A pair of large hands gripped your shoulders, holding you firm as you realized you were looking at no one other than your master. His voice rumbled soothingly, “You are safe here, ____. Nothing will harm you.”
      At first, you wanted to believe him, quickly gathering your wits. You remembered what Slenderman had told you before, when Eyeless Jack had tried stealing one of your kidneys. You remembered how your master told you that the residents were allowed to harass and attack the Proxies, so long as they didn't do extreme damage. A shadow fell over your eyes, knowing the truth behind Slenderman's words, “Not really.”
      “From the Zalgoids and other enemies, yes,” Slenderman clarified.
      “But not from my allies,” you craned your neck to eye the tall being coldly. It might get you into trouble, but what was the point if you were going to get hurt for being a good Proxy, anyway? “How can I be calm when I'm having to guess whether I'm going to live or die all the time?”
      You felt Slenderman's grip on your shoulders tighten, his claws threatening to dig into your flesh. He soon loosened, and you could tell your master was holding back his anger toward your attitude. You decided to stay quiet so not to push your luck, a curious and cautious knit in your brows.
      Slenderman's gaze was aimed somewhere over you, behind you. If he was staring at anything in particular, you weren't sure. There was nothing for him to focus on at the end of the hall. “My brothers have suggested that I 'ease up' on my Proxies.” A flutter of hope tickled inside your chest. Maybe this was the moment you changed this whole mansion! Slenderman continued, “I firmly believe that regular sparring off duty will aid my Proxies to hone their skills for the real battles to come.”
      And just like that, your aspirations dissipated. Honestly, there was sound reason to your master's system. Still, there were flaws. You tried to criticize and offer solutions, “B-but, can't we just have scheduled sparring? So we can relax at some point?”
      With a dark, knowing tone, Slenderman replied, “Zalgoids don't schedule their assaults.”
      “Right,” you sighed, lowering your gaze somewhere to the floor. “Guess I'll go hide in my room until I'm done healing.” You moved to step around your master, seeing the conversation at its end. He released your shoulders, allowing you to leave. 
      “You should know,” Slenderman turned to you, watching your shrinking back, “I have disclosed an event of peace within the mansion. This includes random attacks and all forms of harassment.” He waited for your reaction to this news.
      Needless to say, you were overjoyed – relieved, even – to hear this. It was a curious convenience, though, and you couldn't help but wonder if your master had done this because of you or had planned it all along? 
      Turning back around, you flashed a smile to Slenderman. “How long?”
      “At least a day,” he replied. “Too many of us have injuries that require full recovery. I will inspect everyone's status by the morning and determine if this should be extended.”
      Without hesitation, you spun around on your heel and dashed to the living room. There, you found BEN still lost in his game. Now that you knew he couldn't set you on fire, you plopped back into the soft sofa and relaxed. Not once did BEN glance your way, and you were fine with this. You watched him wander the empty, twisted version of Majora's Mask. There didn't seem to be a goal to the game, but he was absorbed nonetheless. 
      There you sipped at your water, watching the game without a care. Maybe later you would work on that garden some more. It'd be nice to have something fresh and edible, unlike the junk that Jeff brought home.