??, ??, 2017
As the front door of the mansion swung open with a dramatic slam, three new figures strode into the room, their hushed conversation preceding their arrival. Each of them bore their own unique and mysterious appearance.
Masky, whose identity was hidden behind a hauntingly white mask, stood with an air of secrecy. His mask sported two hollow, jet-black eye holes and a thin, stitched-up mouth slit, rendering his face inscrutable. Cloaked in a dark hoodie, he blended into the shadows, the hood often pulled up, adding an extra layer of concealment. His posture exuded tension, revealing a guarded nature.
Hoodie, in stark contrast to his companion, donned an orange hoodie that obscured his form. His hoodie, too, featured a hood that concealed most of his face, making it difficult to discern his expression. His black mask was the antithesis of Masky's, displaying expressive, stitched-on features like wide eyes and a seemingly sorrowful downward smile. This contrast between their masks gave Hoodie an intriguing aura. Though appearing more relaxed than Masky, Hoodie still held an air of enigma.
lastly, a face i did not recognise. his eccentric appearance, immediately drew attention. Wild, unruly brown hair, a light shade that defied gravity, defined his look. His eyes hid behind a pair of goggles adorned with yellow-tinted lenses, adding to his quirkiness. Toby sported a brown, tattered hoodie, patched up in various places, which seemed to mirror his playful yet unsettling demeanor. His signature accessory, a hatchet, was a constant reminder of his capacity for violence.
As the trio entered, their distinctive appearances, concealed faces, and unspoken secrets added a captivating layer to the already eerie ambiance of the mansion. The room's atmosphere crackled with curiosity and a hint of trepidation, as all eyes turned toward the enigmatic newcomers.
The chatter amongst the three newcomers abruptly ceased, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. I found myself staring at them, much like the two other men I shared the couch with, but my gaze remained fixed on Masky. I had an urge to approach him and recount the horrors I'd witnessed since his disappearance.
Each member of this trio bore traces of bloodstains somewhere on their person. Toby, the unfamiliar one, clutched a hatchet drenched in crimson, and most of his attire shared the same gruesome hue. Hoodie appeared to be the least marred, yet I couldn't help but notice the outline of a firearm tucked into his hoodie pocket. And then there was Masky, with a crowbar hanging at his side, its metal stained with the unmistakable red liquid. Even his once pristine mask bore signs of the grisly substance, as did his dark clothing.
The sight was unsettling, and I averted my eyes, opting to focus on my knees instead. Before anyone else could react, the unfamiliar one spoke up, his words stammering with nervous energy. "H-hey, who l-let you back in!" he questioned, to which Jeff swiveled around to face the three newcomers, his tone laced with snark as he retorted, "I let myself back in, dipshit. Problem?" The tension in the room escalated, and I couldn't help but feel a growing unease.
"The Operator said you're not allowed back," Hoodie's monotone voice cut through the room. I could hear the clatter of what I assumed were their weapons being placed on the dining table. "While you guys were away off doing your 'patrol,' things have changed. After all, we have a newcomer, eh!" Jeffs tone remained energetic almost cocky, as he addressed the situation.
I suddenly felt Jeff pull me closer, his antecubital fossa (the inside of his arm where the joints meet) against my neck as he squeezes me against him pressing against my neck in a possessive manner, almost like he was showing me off as a trophy - or rather, the back of my head.
Dark Link swiftly smacked Jeff's arm, causing him to release his grip on me. "I was trying to get your colleagues to introduce themselves... you should be thanking me," Link retorted. Jeff shot a sharp glare at Link before crouching down to check if I was okay.
"H-huh?" the unfamiliar boy stammered as he approached the couch, peering at me with his distinctive orange goggles. His stutter was prominent, evident in each word he uttered. "S-she doesn't l-look like a n-newcomer."
"Well, b-b-big m-m-man said she is," Jeff reiterated, mocking the brunette's speech impediment, which promptly earned him a middle finger. It was becoming increasingly apparent that Jeff's presence wasn't well-received by anyone here. I was relieved to find that I wasn't the only one who felt this way.
I turned around to see that Masky had vanished into thin air, and my gaze met Hoodie's balaclava-covered face. I offered him the smallest, most sorrowful smile, but he appeared to ignore it and proceeded to open the fridge, starting to prepare a bowl of cereal for himself.
Before I could say anything, the man with the orange goggles interrupted, his inquisitive gaze inspecting me up close as he peered at my clothes. "A-ah, Nat h-has gave yo-you some c-clothes... how nice," he commented with a smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes. I merely nodded in response and introduced myself. "Y/n," I said, extending my hand. If Dark Link assured me that everyone was safe, I wanted to make a good impression.
"T-Toby," he replied, shaking my hand. His black gloves, stained with blood, left a disturbing residue on my skin. My face turned pale as our hands pulled away from each other.
Link intervened, taking my hand and leading me over to the kitchen sink to help me wash off the unsettling stains. "She's still new," he explained to Toby. "If you can be patient with her, it's the Operator's orders."
Toby raised his hands apologetically. "I-I d-didn't m-mean it... I f-forget so-sometimes," he stuttered, glancing down at his black gloves. The blood stains were still visible. "M-maybe white w-would be better."
"Maybe a shower would be better," Link suggested as he handed me a kitchen towel to dry my hands. I accepted it and was relieved to find no residual stains left on my skin. I made a mental note to thank him later; I really didn't like the idea of having someone else's blood on my hands.
"maybe a shower would be better" link spoke up as he handed me a kitchen towel to dry my hands with, i took it and looked down to see no residue left on them. i would have to thank him later, i really didn't like the idea of having someone else's blood on my hands.
oh...
someone else's blood...
i forgot they were killers. they all are.
my head corrupted as i now realised what position i was in. i excused myself and headed back to my room, closing the door behind me i sat down against it and pulled my knees to my chest.
As I sat there, an unsettling realization began to eat away at me. My head was flooded with the truth of the situation: I was living among killers, criminals, and murderers. Slenderman had explained their circumstances and claimed they only killed when necessary, but it still made me feel sick to my core. The thought of taking someone else's life, even in dire circumstances, weighed heavily on my mind.
Link must be a killer as well. They all must be, every single one of them, including Masky. I couldn't shake the profound unease that settled within me. It had taken me too long to realize the gravity of the situation, and now, I had to come to terms with living among those who had committed such heinous acts.
I had been sitting on the floor for what felt like an eternity, lost in my thoughts, when a knock on the door disrupted my solitude. I shifted away from the door as it opened, and Link's albino head peeked inside. His concern was evident as he asked, "Everything okay, Y/n? I'm sorry about Toby. He shouldn't have done that."
I didn't want to believe that Link was one of them. I desperately didn't want to.
"It scared me, to be honest... but it's all gone now," I reassured him, showing my clean hands. A small smile appeared on Link's face, and he replied, "It won't happen again. He didn't know, and he said he doesn't want to make you worse, so I'm here on his behalf."
I couldn't keep my question bottled up any longer. "Are you all killers, Link?"
I stared into his eyes, searching for an answer. I noticed a momentary quiver in his lip before he spoke, "We all are, or were." He straightened up, fully entering my room and coming into my direct view. "Some more than others, and some of us refuse to anymore."
I shifted my gaze back to my knees, taking in this heavy revelation. After a moment, I looked back up at him and pressed further, "Do you still... you know..."
He shook his head slightly, a clear "no" in his response. "I do research and technology-based stuff now," he explained. "If there ever is an emergency or any desperate measures, I am forced to join them, though."
There was something strangely reassuring about the way he openly discussed his past as a killer. It was as though he had come to terms with it, and the fact that he emphasized it was all in the past brought a sense of relief to me.
"Anyway, get yourself showered. Clockwork's making dinner shortly," Link changed the conversation, his hand giving my hair a slight ruffle before he walked out of my room and closed the door behind him.
I rose from my seated position and glanced over at the books on my desk. I longed for my laptop, my phone, or any sort of technology that would allow me to do more research. A sigh escaped my lips as I grabbed a towel from the end of my bed and headed toward the bathroom across the hall.
As I entered the bathroom, the warm, inviting steam from the shower embraced me. It felt like a sanctuary away from the unsettling truths I had recently discovered about the residents of this mansion.
I undressed slowly, folding my clothes neatly and setting them aside. The towel I had brought in earlier now hung on the nearby hook, ready for use afterward. With a deep breath, I stepped into the shower, feeling the cascading water envelop my body.
The sensation was both refreshing and soothing, as if washing away not just the physical grime but also the mental weight that had settled on my shoulders. I reached for the bottle of shower gel and squeezed some onto my hand, lathering it into a rich foam. The scent of strawberries filled the air as I began to wash away the dirt and tension of the day.
As I stood beneath the warm stream of water, I couldn't help but let my thoughts wander. I pondered the mysteries of this mansion, its enigmatic residents, and my own situation. The events that had transpired since my arrival had been nothing short of surreal.
The water washed over me, a comforting embrace that helped clear my mind. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to forget about the uncertainty and danger that lurked in the shadows, focusing solely on the simple act of cleansing my body.
After what felt like both an eternity and a mere second, I turned off the shower, feeling refreshed and revitalized. I stepped out onto the tiled floor, wrapping the soft towel around myself. As I gazed into the misted-up mirror,
I reached out to the mirror, my palm pressing against the fogged-up surface. It had been so long since I had seen my own reflection that I almost felt like a stranger to myself. With gentle strokes, I attempted to clear the condensation, revealing my own image.
Staring back at me was a version of myself altered by the unusual circumstances of my captivity. My hair, typically a shade of h/c, appeared darker as it clung wetly to my skin from the recent shower. The e/c eyes that gazed back at me held visible bags beneath them, a testament to the restless nights and constant unease that had plagued me since my arrival.
My once-prominent freckles, usually scattered across my cheeks, were slowly fading away, a result of the limited exposure to natural sunlight in the past few weeks. My skin had paled from its usual tone, further accentuating the slight thinning of my cheeks, likely a consequence of the inadequate nutrition available in this mysterious place.
It was a stark reminder of the changes, both physical and emotional, that had been imposed upon me.