"You were part of Marble Hornets."
Those words seemed to echo through the room as they left my mouth, a heavy silence suddenly seeming to fall over us. In retrospect, maybe it should have been obvious, but not once had it crossed my mind while reading about the series. "Tim" was a pretty common name after all; the idea that the Tim in Marble Hornets was the same Tim that I shared potluck lunches with every few days seemed like too big of a coincidence, far out of the realm of possibility.
Yet it all fit together so well. His fear of forests, having to suddenly leave town, getting fired from his last job before moving, his experiences with "kind of" sleepwalking... Even his medicine. All pieces of a complicated puzzle I didn't know even existed, pointing to a single answer: Marble Hornets. A crazy coincidence—impossible, even—but then again, this is me we're talking about.
"That's why you moved here," I continued slowly, organizing my thoughts as I spoke. "To get away from all of that. To start over." Tim's back visibly stiffened as I talked, standing in place totally rigid.
"...Yeah, that's right," he said quietly after a few moments, not turning to look at me. "I was part of it—was. But I'm done with it now. I'm done with all those fucking videos and fielding questions about how all that stuff got pulled off or what the hell the 'ark' is supposed to be. I'm done, it's over, it's through, and I'm never looking back."
"...So then you won't give me your laptop, will you?"
"No. If you want to look it up more, do it on your own time without using my stuff. And if you do decide to, then do me a favor and never come back." There was a sense of finality to his voice that made me fall silent, unable to respond as he just headed into his room to put away the laptop. I couldn't blame him wanting to forget about it and never speak of it again, everything that happened had to be pretty traumatic. I know I wanted to forget about it. However, I couldn't just stop now. I needed information now more than ever. Mentally debating over what to do, finally I took a deep, shuddery breath.
"...Can I ask one question?" I heard Tim give a grunt of annoyance from the bedroom.
"(Name), I just said—"
"How many people know it's real?" Sudden silence fell over the apartment, even heavier than the previous one. Mere seconds passed, but they seemed to magically stretch into hours as I waited for a response. Eventually he emerged from his room, his eyes wide with shock.
"...What?" he whispered, his voice surprisingly hollow.
"How many people know it's all real?" I repeated, looking him square in the eye. Tim didn't respond right away, just stared at me, but then he ducked his head.
"...It's not... (Name), I know some of the effects might be convincing, but it's just video editing and acting. Basic stuff. None of it's actually real—"
"You can drop the act," I interrupted, keeping my voice level and cool. "Everyone else may think it's fake, but I know it's not. So don't bother lying to me about it, and just tell me the truth." When I finished speaking, for the longest time Tim didn't say anything, didn't even look at me. He just stared at the ground, his hands clenching into fists at his side. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, sounding almost controlled as if he might explode otherwise.
"...Do you have any idea what it's like... To live every day in fear... Wondering if you'll black out again... If you'll wake up with another broken leg..." Raising his head slightly, his brown eyes were totally cold as he glared at me, sending a shudder down my spine. Icy venom dripped from his voice as he hissed, "Do you know what it's like to live every single fucking day worried that an actual monster will attack you?"
The coldness of his tone made me reflexively shrink back a little, chills running down my spine. However, that's all it was—reflexes. His words struck a nerve in me, and I found myself taking a deep breath to collect myself. I'm no coward, and when I want answers, I don't back down. Fists clenching at my side, I stared right back at him, my own (e/c) gaze flaring with determination and anger. Now he flinched, his own fury fading to a look of surprise as I began talking.
"Yes, I do know what it's like to live every day in fear!" I snapped. "That's been my life for as long as I can remember because bad stuff always happens around me! Every time I left my house, I never knew if something would happen to the people with me! I never knew if a car would crash in front of us! I couldn't go shopping without constantly looking at the window of the store to see if some psycho driver was careening towards us! Or worrying about the quiet man at the back of the line suddenly pulling out a gun!"
Stamping my foot on the ground, I glared at him even harder as I continued. "I couldn't take one step out of the house without worrying that whoever was with me would somehow get hurt or killed in a one-in-a-million accident or some random crime! It's the reason I freaking ran away—I always get out fine, but I never know if the other people around me would! And even after running away, I keep running into bad stuff and seeing people die!! Hell, meeting you is the only GOOD thing that's happened to me!"
At this point I stepped forward and glared right in Tim's face, making him reflexively lean back. "So, no. Don't bother trying to play the one-up game with me when it comes to bad stuff. Because while most of your trouble comes from those videos, that danger is my every-day life. You can't possibly top me, and trust me, you don't want to." When I finished Tim just stared at me in disbelief, his jaw hanging open and unable to respond. Soon, though, he slowly shook his head and pressed a hand to it, squeezing his eyes shut.
"...Holy... That's just... Wow... Wow. I had a feeling some serious stuff happened to you, but... this? That's just... what?" At this point I sighed, giving myself a few seconds to calm down a bit before speaking.
"Yeah, well, to sum it up, my luck is totally screwed. I keep running into these crazy messes but get out totally fine, even if others don't." Snorting, I smirked ruefully to myself as I added, "I should have known that you'd be part of that mess too. With my luck, pretty sure there's no such thing as 'coincidences'." Tim frowned, narrowing his eyes at me.
"...Speaking of 'that mess', why are you even looking into Marble Hornets? Not that I want to get involved with it anymore," he quickly added, "But there's no way this is just a passing interest."
"No, it isn't." I sighed, falling deep into thought as I considered the best way to explain this. Where did I even begin? There was a lot to cover, after all. "...Well, it started about fourth months ago in an abandoned building," I finally started, and just like that, I found myself sharing my story with Tim. For the next half hour we sat at his table as I told him everything, detailing not just my encounter with Hoody and the "Tall Man", but also everything after it, including the nightmares, the sleepwalking, the fruits of my research... Everything.
When I finally finished my story we both sat in silence, Tim staring at the table with an unreadable expression. Eventually he sighed and pressed a hand to his head yet again. "...This is crazy..."
"I know. I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it myself."
"Right..." He slowly nodded. "But still... That yellow-hooded guy who called himself 'Hoody'... It really DOES sound like him..."
"I can't be sure since I don't know much about him, but I'm pretty sure they're the same guy. Too weird of a coincidence for another person like that to be involved with the 'Tall Man'."
"No, no, no, that's not it," Tim said, shaking his head, and I frowned.
"What? What's that supposed to mean?" Once again Tim didn't answer right away, just stared at the table in silence.
"Because... He's dead. He was shot in the head by Alex."