Hello there, everyone. Has everyone forgotten about me? Oh I hope not, please forgive me for my absence. I have been job hunting, access to little to no internet apart from my phone making sending job applications difficult, plus I'll be working with my grandfather/visiting family this upcoming July so I'll be out of touch for a bit. Despite that, I have been working on a new BTR Kames story. It will be two-three chapters max but hopefully all of them will be pretty long so that's a positive. Now, before I let everyone dive in and sign off with the disclaimer, here is my question: I wish to know of my dear, wonderful readers if they know of the Slender Man. If you do, that's good and hopefully I did him justice in this adaptation. If not, I hope the background information (from research I've done) I put in this chapter in bits and pieces clears things up. Also, if what I provide information that isn't accurate or still not clear, then PM me and I'll be happy to explain more. And with, please enjoy. Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush or Slender Man! They belong to their beloved and respective creators! This story is being told in first person point-of-view, though who we're seeing the story through will change! For the first chapter, it will be told through James's perspective!
One of the greatest things about being a teacher is the silence. Of course, there is no silence during the school day. Students flirt and fight and fall in love, fellow co-workers try to control the chaos in the hallways only to fail, all of that followed by the scramble of kids and adults going about their normal routine. There is no such thing as silence in a high school setting. Well, except during the lunch periods.
That is when silence, though temporary, is golden.
It's the only time I provide myself with a distraction. Seeing the faces of my students, teaching them about the color wheel or how to create shadows in a charcoal sketch, that can only work for a while. My job occupies my mind with simple things; being a teacher at a private high school is stressful, I don't get much of a paycheck but I work blood, sweat and tears into everything I do. I know it might sound weird that I take my job very seriously, it's nothing to build an obsession on but stability is a luxury I can never afford for too long. The fact that the last seven months have been decent scares me enough; my world doesn't float on calm waves. It floats on lifeless ones.
Lifeless ripples, lifeless ripples of a pond that carried the tang of old blood upon its lips.
I can get too poetic sometimes, even with my own pain.
I push those haunting thoughts aside and try to address my focus back to my novel: The Kite Runner. Reading was one road I took to escape my reality. After my mother's death, books were all I had to survive the grief. I made a habit to carry at least three around with me. I had to have a book with me at all times; anything to avoid my memories, I was that desperate.
If you had my memories, my thoughts in your head...you'd be desperate too.
Desperate to escape or even kill those thoughts, those memories.
I sigh, yet no sound bounces off my tongue, and rub at my eyes. I was careful not to rub too hard though, to avoid taking off my make-up; I had applied a generous amount of baby powder after concealer this morning, like normal, but that didn't make it water-proof. The heat from the sun outside was baking the whole building, turning the classrooms into saunas. I've had to go to the restroom in the middle of class a few times before, that didn't mean I didn't get annoyed though.
How do girls do this I'll never know.
I checked my hands once, twice to assure myself that I hadn't screwed up my hard work. Once I deemed the search satisfactory, I pocketed my hand mirror and closed my novel. I couldn't take it; the chapter I was now on focused on Hassan and Amir as children, playing. Two little boys, best friends despite society's social status barriers. Two hearts connected, two people pulled apart by fate.
Just like the two friends I lost, they were pulled apart from me. I couldn't do anything to save them, I was just a kid back then. But they were kids back then too, and even though I know there was nothing I could have done to stop what happened...I still couldn't ignore the guilt that constantly crushed my lungs.
If I had done something, anything, then maybe...they'd still be here.
Carlos...Logan...
My friends...
Oh God...!
My eyes began to water. I pushed everything on my desk aside and buried my face into the crooks of my elbows, the guilt crushing my lungs suddenly intensifying. I couldn't close my mouth, breath coming out in short, harsh pants. My vision grew blurrier and blurrier, the blood leaving my face white as a sheet. Boiling hot, sticky wet streamed down my cheeks, an icy chill rattling my bones; my stomach turned inside out on itself, my whole body from the waist down going numb.
Every memory...all memories involving him caused the same reaction.
Every single memory.
-Page Break-
"Stop, please stop! Stop, stop y-you're hurting them! Stop!"
I screamed over and over, hoping someone would hear me. I had my hands scratching, clawing and slicing at the long, sewer pipe black appendages crushing my tiny rib cage. I kicked my short, stumpy legs through the air and continued screaming but I found myself losing air fast. Tears streamed down my face while flashes of blue shined through the darkness; even though Carlos, Logan and I have been playing in the woods behind my house for two hours now, it wasn't time for it to get this dark yet. It was only four in the afternoon, so why so dark like it was evening?
It made no sense.
"Stop, C-Carlos! Logan, n-no!"
Carlos was suspended by his ankles, hands hanging feebly past his head. A look of pure terror shined in his usually happy chocolate eyes, they red-rimmed and puffy. He was having trouble breathing, whole frame violently shaking. His lips were parted but he couldn't speak, couldn't scream.
He was confused, he was hurt but above all scared.
Scared beyond belief.
Blood was trickling down his fingers from the deep, large gashes decorating his drinking straw-thin, lightly tanned arms. His hair was heavy with the stench of copper and salt, red dripping from the tousled tips.
Sweat from his forehead mixed with the small pool on the earthy floor, heart pounding so hard and fast in his chest that I could hear it even with the voices in my ears.
The voices that Logan himself was trying to drown out.
Logan had his hands over his ears, tear tracks shining against his paler than normal skin. He had blood dripping down the side of his head from a rock wound, bits of it still lodged into his flesh. His clothes were caked in dirt, fresh cuts littered his stomach (sweater torn) and his upper lip was badly split. The sharp-tipped appendages were thick vines around his neck, the threat of snapping it in two clear in the snake-like grip. He was trying to breathe too, like me and Carlos, but his eyes were blank.
He was thinking, thinking of a way for us to escape, to get away.
But even I knew that this wasn't just a sick prank, and I wasn't as bright as him. I wasn't an Einstein but stupid I wasn't either; something was really wrong.
'Children shouldn't play in the woods alone.' That voice, the voice that was clearer than the others buzzing in my ears spoke again. It was deep and rich, heavy with power and possessing a menacing sharpness at the ends of its words. This voice was like a poison being forced into my veins: it was unleashing a stinging agony throughout my whole body, yet its paralysis left me unable to fight back.
None of us could. We were trapped.
'Didn't your parents teach you not to play in the woods alone? Sweet children, there are monsters in the woods. Monsters...that eat little children.' Carlos managed a whimper as he was jerked forwards, his eyes meeting a smooth, white face. His tears began to run faster, harder down his cheeks.
"P-please...stop, mister." He whispered, me and Logan holding what little breath we had back.
'Dear child, monsters don't like to negotiate with disobedient little ones. You three knew better, how would you feel if someone came into your home without permission? And monsters like to eat little boys and girls, why should I make an exception?' The man...thing...beast hissed.
Yet it had no mouth. It had no mouth, but it could talk still.
"W-who are you?" Logan choked out, thin brows lined with perspiration.
'Dear child, you hold an intelligence far beyond your age. The books and the content you have devoured from them, sadly have not taught you much. I am not something you can learn of through mere texts.'
The three of us screamed in unison as the smooth, icy appendages rose us farther off the ground. The urge to throw up bubbled up in my throat, consciousness threatening to leave me.
But I had to stay awake. I had to stay awake, I couldn't lose it now. If I did, then the worse would happen; I was afraid I'd lose Carlos and Logan.
I was afraid this...thing would take them away.
'But if you truly wish to know my name, child, then allow me to introduce myself.' The man-like creature cooed, it sounding as friendly as a hungry wildcat. Our bodies were soon pressed together, Carlos with his eyes closed and Logan looking away.
I couldn't look away though. My eyes were glued to that pale, featureless face. Even though it had no eyes, I felt like it was boring into me. Boring into me, nonexistent eyes trying to swallow my soul.
My heart was racing, blood ice cold.
'My name, my dear sweet children...is The Slender Man.'
-Page Break-
I lost it.
Papers, the only photo I had of Carlos and Logan, spare pens and my novel, everything on my desk I lashed out to the floor. My chair fell to its backside as I jolted upwards and clutched at my head, tears already streaming hot and fast down my cheeks. The room suddenly grew dark as if from a blackout; I tried to reach out for my bag, to grab the flashlight I always carried but my fingers were stiff and cold. My bag, I could see through my blurry vision, was open and spilling out everything: my flashlight, house/car keys, bottle of pills, camcorder and personal notebook.
The notebook where I kept my stash of drawings.
My drawings of Slender Man.
My memories often disappeared, as a result of the sickness, but his face was something I could never forget. No matter how I wished that day had never happened, I knew that losing memories of him would mean losing Carlos and Logan too.
Where he was, they were there too.
And for the past nineteen years, I've been running away. For the past nineteen years, I've been running away while trying to think of a way, any way, to get my friends back.
They were still alive, I know they were. I saw them, I saw what he has done to them.
Carlos...Logan...my friends...
The Slender Man.
My back met the blackboard, erasers falling to the floor and exploding fine powder. My coughs were soundless as I collapsed to the floor, my body temperature off the charts while my gloved hands began to tremble.
My eyes squeezed shut, I tried my best to contain my crumbling composure as I pulled off my gloves, hissing. The scars embedded in my palms were burning, burning as if they were being cut again.
That memory came back in bits and pieces: being held down, a tall, tall shadow glowing in the light of the full moon. Two faces, starved of features, looking down at me while I screamed and tried to break free. A piercing pain lighting my palms aflame; my breath coming out in harsh pants; the darkness taking over everything in sight.
I couldn't take it anymore. I threw my body against the board again, clawing with my dull nails all I could reach. My legs were useless under me, my vision lost in a wave of static. I started fidgeting, footsteps, hurried and light, were echoing against the plastic floor. I felt a looming presence in the school, it closing in on me.
"He's here...!" My lips mouthed the words and even though no sound left me still, I could feel that my greatest fear was coming to a close.
He had to be here: blood was pouring from my nose, hot and fast and sticky, and I felt like throwing up. My whole body was shaking and everything before me was being massively distorted as if I was looking through my camcorder. The footsteps grew louder and louder, followed by frantic pounding at my door.
It was locked. It was locked but if he's here...
"S-Slender..."
-Page Break-
I couldn't remember what happened once the door was finally thrown back, free from its hinges. I didn't even feel my body shutting down; I had went numb at that point, everything going black. The sound of static and strange flashing had abruptly stopped, the footsteps and pounding dead.
My eyes had not closed, yet it was like everything had occurred in a dream. My eyes had been open, wide open, the entire time but a majority of my memory was missing.
'I have plans for you, James.'
"Jamie, Jamie can you hear me? Jamie?"
I blinked, (forced) train of thought broken at the sound of my name. Suddenly it all clicked to me: I was in my house, the curtains drawn tightly against the outside world like normal. My living room was dimly lit, my body limp like a rag doll's on one of the twin couches. The coffee table was littered with the things I usually carried in my bag, though the flashlight was broken and for some reason the camcorder was on but low on battery. My hands were folded over my lap, shoes off and feet propped on a pillow. Another was under my head, fluffed, and my gloves were off. My eyes felt watery yet no tears fell, light sweat stuck to my skin.
I winced and worked an elbow under me, using that little leverage to sit up. A hand descended lightly on my shoulder, the touch startling me; I looked up and met a pair of bottle green eyes, followed by thick dark blond eyebrows, a pale mouth in a thin frown, and a scrunched up blunt nose. All the features within a pale, thin face.
A face I recognized, though it took me a while to really place where I've seen him.
Kendall, Kendall Knight. He was a fellow co-worker, the music teacher at Rocque Academy.
He found me, how? Wait, was he the one who had pounded at my door? Why, how did he hear all that through the classroom walls? How did he get me inside the fortress that was my house without my help?
And...had I really been that verbal? Had I truly lost control of my actions, of my body during that out-of-mind tragedy? So much to the point of actually speaking?
I was mute. I lost the ability to speak the day of the incident; I didn't know if it was another sign of "Slender Sickness" or my own free will choosing not to talk, but I haven't spoken a word in nineteen years. I don't remember how my voice sounded, and even my own personal thoughts had a robotic droll to them.
I had no idea if I even COULD speak after so long...
"Jamie?" Kendall's soft, gentle voice got to me again, I blinking twice in response. Unlike a majority of the staff, Kendall believed I was mute. Others believed I faked it all for attention; apart from the blond at my side, I was the only teacher at RA that was under twenty-seven. That has gained me some infamy with my fellow co-workers. To them, I was a kid. A kid like the ones they saw every day in their classes.
A kid that had no idea how to be an adult. If only they knew that my childhood had been robbed from me when I was only five years old.
I bit my lower lip, eyeing Kendall wearily. I didn't have to write my concern down or sign with trembling hands to get across to him what I wanted to say. He was very observant and smart himself, he could actually carry a conversation with me for longer than five minutes.
Not like I tried that often; I tried to avoid any form of contact with other people, by any means necessary.
The less people involved with me, the better it will be. For them, not me.
"You had a panic attack. I had just finished grading some papers so I was getting ready to check out for the day, when I started hearing noises. Loud noises, like banging: I heard a chair fall and screeching as if someone was nailing a chalkboard. It was coming from your room down the hall so I thought to investigate, to make sure you were okay. You seemed a little uneasy today, well more so than normal, and when I finally got the door open I found you on the floor. You were crying, your breathing was out of control and...you were holding onto these as if your life depended on it.
Kendall grabbed a spiral notebook with a dark blue cover off the coffee table. There were loose pages sticking out of it, he shuffling through the intact pages until he had a handful.
A handful of the loose pages, with mad scribblings on them.
The scribblings were drawings, poorly done drawings. They resembled the artwork of a five-year-old. Every page, however, had something in common besides being poorly done.
A tall man, a tall man with no face or eyes wearing a dark suit. In some drawings it was just him, or his featureless face, but in others this "man" had long, black tentacle-like appendages protruding from his back. In one drawing he was holding hands with a little boy, the little boy smiling and very, very small in stature compared to the seven, or maybe ten, feet tall man.
And the phrases, the strange phrases included with the drawings. They were in chicken scrawl, true to the term mad scribblings: "No no no no no no no", "Don't look back", "No eyes sees all", the phrases varying. One of the scribblings however, not only made my blood run cold but also my skin crawl for the hills.
It was the scribbling right under the drawing of the tall, tall man holding hands with the little boy. It said "My best friend".
The tall, tall man was the little boy's "best friend". He was smiling because he was holding hands with his "best friend".
That little boy...was me.
The long hair, brown even though he was drawn in pencil; the slight chubbiness to him, something that boy lost as he got older; the glasses he wore, thick-rimmed that he still had but didn't have to don 24/7 anymore. The boy in the drawing was me, I know it.
I drew him, this picture was of him and me.
I wrote that Slender Man was my best friend...
I gulped as I took one of the pages and traced the words with a shaky finger, eyeing him. Silently probing him to continue.
"I tried to get you to let go of them, so I could be support for you when I helped you up but you'd lash out at me when I tried anything. I got on the floor with you and did my best to calm you down. Jamie, you were bleeding; there were glass shards on the floor, your flashlight was busted. I think you broke it when you cleared your desk. Your camcorder was blinking too, it was recording for like twenty minutes. The battery was close to dying. There was blood on your hands and nose, you were bleeding lakes! I-I left the room for some paper towels; I got some dry and some wet, because you were burning up so I had to get you to cool down. I put the wet towels around your neck and forehead while I cleaned up the blood. The nurse was already gone but I have a first aid kit in my desk; I disinfected your cuts and wrapped them...the small cuts from the glass and the...bigger ones.
I set the page down and took a good look at my hands. Like Kendall said, they were wrapped up in bandages. He had done a good job cleaning them: there was no leftover traces of blood, dry or fresh, on my skin. The thin, see-through white material wasn't loose to let germs in but not too tight either; I could still move my fingers freely without pulling the strips put of place. I could make out the scars, both from the glass and...the ones from Carlos and Logan, but I didn't get sick from taking them in.
He had helped me...no, he IS helping me and so far hasn't hounded me with questions towards my sanity. He was being careful, not cautious but careful, plus the information he was giving was piecing up the scene for me. I honestly can't remember this, ANY of this. Everything was in bits and pieces, all blurred that I couldn't make sense of what I could work with.
It was like a dream I couldn't remember having, even though I had been awake from the beginning.
"It took a while but you managed to calm down afterwards; you had your eyes open but when I tried getting your attention, you didn't respond. Your breathing was back to normal, your temperature was normal again too but it was hard for you to move. I tried getting you to walk, with you leaning on me, but that failed so I decided to carry you back home. I was worried, Jamie; I contemplated taking you to the hospital...but I know you don't like needles and taking you there would have only made you worse. Doctors swarming you, asking questions plus they'd separate us and I didn't want to be separated from you. I thought it would best if I took you home; I read up on panic attacks, I remembered that sometimes it benefits the person being in a comfortable, familiar place. Home was the best bet, and so far you've been okay. You haven't 'said' anything, which had me going crazy, but now...you're okay now, Jamie. You're okay.
How long have I been..."out"?
As if reading my mind, he continued. "You've been quiet and wide-eyed for about half an hour. I cleaned up the classroom before we left, a-and all the doors are locked, windows too. You're okay, you're okay...
I forced my legs up, my bare feet meeting the carpet floor. I winced again when a twinge of pain went off, my hand flying to the side of my head. I struggled to take a deep breath, in and out, and met Kendall's eyes. He was sitting on his knees before me, one hand clutching my notebook while the other was on my shoulder still, rubbing soothing circles with the tip of his thumb.
Suddenly the waterworks broke free, my face puffy and red and wet now.
"Hey, hey it's okay. You're not hurt, you're alright. It's okay, Jamie, it's okay." I heard him say, yet I grimaced and shook my head.
No, no it wasn't okay. This was serious; Kendall has seen me have a Slender-related panic attack. I know this isn't the first time it's happened, me that way in his company but this particular episode...none of the others before it had turned out so bad. This though, reminded me of the attack that led to me having Slender Man's sign embedded in my palms. I had so much memory loss concerning that event, but I had been alone.
Alone, for the last nineteen years. Thanks to him, I've lost everything I've ever loved: Carlos and Logan, abducted when they were only five years old. My mom, burned to death in the fire that destroyed our home in San Diego. I've had to lose so much because of this damn abomination. I've lost my peace of mind, sense of comfort and familiarity. I've had to move so many times, trying to start over in a new state only to have to leave it in a matter of months. Hell, I'm not even James Diamond anymore! My paranoia has reached the level that I had no choice but to assume a new identity.
Kendall didn't know me as me, James Diamond. He only knew Jamie Hanson, the alias I've been using since my mom died. She died when I was sixteen; I'm twenty-four now. I've been living under the same alias for eight years.
He didn't know about my dark brown skin and hair, my hazel-green eyes, my birthday or the reason why I took pills, couldn't sleep, kept my house windows and doors shut at all times, etc.
He only knew Jamie's blue eyes. He only knew Jamie's black hair and deathly pale skin. He knew about the bags under Jamie's eyes that no amount of make-up could hide. He knew about the fake scars Jamie had over his left eye and nose; all he knew was Jamie Hanson.
He didn't know me, and I often found myself wondering if that saddened or pleased me.
"Jamie, your...make-up is running." Well damn, this is a nice time for my mask to fall off!
Damn, damn, damn.
-Page Break-
I carefully stretched the lower lid of my eye downwards, taking a deep breath as I popped (just an expression) the contact from my eye. I tried to keep my gaze on the mirror, Kendall sitting patiently on my bed with his hands folded over his lap.
I cleaned my contact and changed the solution in the case before putting it away, getting to work on my right eye. Once I finished I washed my hands again, running the wet towel over my cheeks and chin to get rid of the baby powder and concealer still clinging to my skin.
I did this with my eyes closed, waiting five minutes before opening them again: soft hazel-green eyes stared back at me, instead of shocking blue ones. I had washed the black dye out of my hair so it was brown again, my skin dark and rich. All the fake scars I drew were gone, the sight of my real face bringing tears to my eyes.
Sometimes I forgot what I looked like, really looked like.
I contemplated taking a shower but decided against it. I knew no amount of steam and soap could rid me of the slimy, sticky sensation clinging to my skin plus, well Kendall was in my house. As much as I didn't feel safe in my own home when alone, having someone here didn't bring me comfort either.
I know he wouldn't hurt me, that I could trust him, but paranoia made me second-guess many things. People's true intentions was one of the many things I second-guessed; with my unprofessional feelings for him aside as well, because to say that I didn't find him both physically and psychologically attractive was a lie.
But my life, it has no place for a relationship directed towards that level of intimacy.
That level of intimacy was for "normal" people.
Normal...
I had stripped off my jacket, sunglasses and beanie, pulling on my glasses. I was glad I had chosen to wear sweatpants to work today, busying myself with my blue shirt's sleeves as I slowly turned from the mirror to face him.
Kendall's green eyes locked with my own, slightly wider than normal as he took in my face. I couldn't help but blush a bit at the intensity behind his gaze; I managed to maintain eye contact though, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
"So, this is the real you." He said. I kind of liked the fact that he meant it as a statement, not a question. It made me feel that Jamie truly was just an alias, all an act and not really me.
That I've not become who I've pretended to be for so long.
"Y-yeah." A part of me belittled myself for the smart response (note my sarcasm) but what else could I say? I just revealed my secret to a co-worker. I mean, he's told me before that I'm his friend since we've had conversations over coffee before but he was still just a co-worker, a person I've known for only seven months. I haven't trusted anyone with my Jamie Hanson alias ever since I created it. I didn't want to risk being exposed and investigated, or worse sent to a psychiatric ward.
I already know what it's like to be in a psychiatric ward. I do not wish to go back; fourteen and away from home for six months, with nothing but nurses and doctors for company and having to take pills and tests constantly.
It was torture.
I shook those thoughts away and took a deep breath, readying myself to tell the dreaded story. The dreaded story that was my life. Even though no sound came from between my lips, Kendall could read them to understand what I was saying. "I became Jamie Hanson when I was sixteen. Wait...I'm not starting at the right point, sorry. I-I...I had two best friends when I was a kid, the best in the whole world. One was named Carlos, the other Logan. We've known each other since preschool but became friends in second grade. At first I was iffy, it's hard to make friends sometimes plus me and Carlos didn't really get along with Logan; we had a rough start but after a while we became close, you know? We all had some things in common: hockey, pulling pranks, going to summer camp. We also shared some history of being bullied: Logan for being smart, me about my weight and Carlos for his crazy stunts. We didn't fit in with the school cliches so...we found refuge with each other.
Tears prickled my eyes, yet I fought to hold them back. "As time went on, we became like brothers. Our moms and Carlos' dad became like family: we'd have sleepovers, cookouts, family camping trips, the works. In the end, I was happy; I had friends, real friends in a long time, and like three moms and a dad. Papa Garcia played hockey with us, took us out for smoothies on really hot days and was really chilled for a police officer. Me and my dad...we rarely talked when he and Mom were still together, and when they divorced he married a woman fifteen years younger. He paid child support up until I was sixteen; he said that I didn't need it anymore, that I was just an excuse for my mom to have contact with him. He believed she was still in love with him, and so to be rid of us once and for all...he moved, I don't know where, changed everything he could to not be found. I had a job to help pay for the bills; Mom had a booming cosmetics company but I wanted to help, I didn't want to be a burden so I did part-time after school. But before all this...s-something happened. Something happened to me, and C-Carlos and Logan...
Kendall scooted closer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing soothing circles once more while his other gently fell over mine's on my lap. I felt a wave of gratitude at the gesture, despite the fact that it didn't show in my expression.
"What happened?" He asked, tone everything but demanding and harsh. I swallowed once more, throat dry. Kendall noticed this and pulled away briefly to fetch the bottle of water I had on my bedside table. He was back comforting me as I took a big gulp and swallowed, a small smile touching his lips before he turned serious once more.
I never expected someone to treat me with such kindness; it's first the time in quite a while that I'm not being treated like the carrier of a disease.
Even though I was...
"Me and Carlos and Logan l-liked to play in the woods behind my house. We would play games like hide-and-seek, ghost hunters and T-Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Those woods were always safe, you know Sherwood rarely goes through crime waves. We played every day in those woods, it felt like a home away from home. We would spend boring spring days just staring up at the sky, daydreaming about whatever. We felt s-safe...up until one day.
A soft whimper left me, my tears silently falling. I squeezed my eyes shut, Kendall's hold tightening protectively.
"You don't have to tell me." He whispered, reminding me that I still had a choice. Reminding me that I could change my mind and not say a word more.
But this WAS my choice: to finally be truthful.
I was tired of the lies. I've been lying to everyone for so long, the chance to stop with it, if only for this moment in time, was a breath of fresh air that I've craved.
I wanted to be honest, and...part of me was happy that I was being honest with Kendall. Better with someone I know, someone real, than with my reflection in the mirror.
I ignored his words and pressed on, opening my eyes once more. "We were playing in the woods one day, we didn't go to summer camp that year so we had a lot of free time. It was pretty early in the afternoon; we try not to stay in the woods when it gets dark since it was scary in the dark, but that day...it grew d-dark really fast. We weren't worried at first, we had played after dark before, but something didn't feel right. It was like...w-we were being watched; something was among the tall trees, but we couldn't see it. Not at first...
"And then it happened: a tall, t-tall man came from the trees. He was tall, very tall like a skyscraper and he was in a suit. It was a business suit, you know all black with a w-white shirt under it and a red tie. He had big shiny shoes, dress shoes...but we couldn't see his face. We couldn't see his face...because h-he didn't have one. I mean he had the indents where his eyes would be found and everything; he looked like a man and had the facial structure, but no face. We didn't know what to do, then he started talking. He was talking to us without a mouth, with a voice that sounded friendly at first. He asked if we wanted to play with him; Carlos, he was always the happy one, he got excited and said yes, Logan and I were not so on board. Our parents taught us not to talk to strangers but something about him made us trust him, at l-least at first.
"So we played with him. He played tag with us; he was it. Like I said, at first he was f-friendly. A strange man, but nice. But after we played two rounds, everything became w-weird; we were starting the third round, when suddenly...these t-tentacles sprouted from his back, and they were l-long and black and thin like sewer pipes. We were shocked; no one can do that...our 'new special friend' could do something no one else could. He said it would make playing tag easier for him: he said we were fast little rascals, he didn't want to lose anymore so he'd use them to c-catch us.
Memories of that day flooded me once more, though the visuals were sharper than earlier thanks to the details I was recalling. I felt my jaw go slack, soft hiccups escaping my parted lips. "That's when I knew something was wrong. I tried telling Carlos and Logan to leave, that we had to go home but then...he had us in his hold. We were in his tentacles, screaming and trying to get away b-but then it's like we went limp. We couldn't fight back, all we could do was stare as he talked to us. He t-taunted us; he said that little children shouldn't play in the woods alone and that monsters lived in the woods. Monsters that ate little boys and girls. Logan a-asked him what his name was...he taunted Logan about how all the books he's read couldn't teach him about who he was. But then he told us his n-name, which was the last thing he did before...b-b-before I lost Carlos and Logan.
"What was his name, James?"
I swallowed hard, a chill running down my spine. "H-he said...'My name, my dear sweet children...is The Slender Man.' He is The Slender Man."
-Page Break-
Kendall's eyes were wide as dinner plates, jaw slack and skin paler than normal.
"Slender Man?"
"Y-yes, Kendall I know this sounds like a crazy movie script but please believe me! Slender Man attacked me and my best friends when we were kids, a-and he took them away! He didn't kill them but turned them into his servants! They're p-proxies...!" I exclaimed, the marks on my hands tingling now.
Kendall's hold on me didn't loosen, though his brain was obviously reeling. "Proxies, what are proxies?"
"Insane people whose minds have been warped by Slender Man. They do his bidding: they destroy evidence of his existence, they help him hunt his targets; everything he asks of them, they'll do without hesitation. Proxies are humans t-turned into...into immoral creatures. Carlos and Logan's 'new' names are Puppet and The Hacker. They've...they've tried to kill me before, and when they couldn't they settled for alternatives. M-my mom...she was murdered, Kendall. She was murdered; when we still lived in San Diego, a fire destroyed our house. It d-destroyed our house and my mom, my mom was in the house during the fire. She died in those flames, and I know...I know t-that they did it. They set my house on fire, under Slender Man's orders, to burn all the drawings and distorted camera footage I had as evidence in my room. They burned down my house and k-killed my mother to eliminate the evidence I had collected over the years. Slender Man first took my friends, my peace of mind and freedom, and then he took my mother. Kendall, I was left a-alone. I had no one anymore; I was going to go into foster care but...but I couldn't let that happen so I took the money my mom left in my name, in her will and r-ran away. I ran away, used the money to create a new identity and tried to build a life from that. I buried who I was, James Diamond who lost everything, so that Jamie Hanson could live. I had no choice, I mean who I could trust?
Memories of my time in the psychiatric ward rained down on me like grenades with their pins out. "The first few years after meeting him were hard. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep and when I'd close eyes all I'd see is him. I lost weight, not the healthy way to, I got sick more and more often; after a month straight of nightmares, Mom broke me down. I told her, a-about what happened. The truth about everything and I was feeling good at first...b-but then she started talking about PTSD and that I was trying to make sense of Carlos and Logan's disappearances. She didn't believe me, Kendall. She thought I needed psychiatric help, that I wasn't dealing with this properly. I had an evaluation done, and from six months to two years I was there in the psych ward. I was tested almost every day, I only saw doctors and nurses and I had to take pills, a lot of pills. I-I was only fourteen, and at the time we were living in Florida. Mom thought that Miami would be nice to live in: a new place meaning new start, plus she thought the beaches and warm s-sun would bring back my smile, my laugh. Since the incident I couldn't laugh, I couldn't smile; Mom missed that of me. She missed the James that Slender Man took away from her. For two years I spent days, nights, holidays and my birthday in a white room. Mom visited, but I couldn't tell her that I hadn't improved. At sixteen I was deemed stable; I was sent home, and from there we moved to San Diego. I-I tried my best to seem normal, be alright for my mom's sake and at first...it seemed that way. I didn't get nightmares, I was able to keep doing well in school, playing soccer with a job on the side. I started to feel like I was free, even though I really missed Carlos and Logan. But then the fire...proved that I was still being hunted."
I got to my feet and rubbed my arms. I always kept the AC on, but now I wish that that fact wasn't so encoded in my skin.
"So Slender Man...has been chasing you for the past nineteen years." Kendall said, I nodding in agreement.
"I-I haven't figured it out yet, how he always finds me but I know that he's here. He's here in L.A. and even with me in hiding he was able to find out where I worked. I can't escape him, I can't trick him."
"What does he want?"
"He wants to complete the set. Me and Carlos and Logan have always been together, like brothers. H-He got them, but he spared me saying, 'I have plans for you, James'. He turned two out of three friends into proxies, but he likes the hunt. Slender Man likes to psychologically torture his victims: he spares glimpses of himself to his victims to increase their paranoia, he send his proxies to track them or whatever, he goes to extremes just to toy with them. He wants to toy with me t-to the point in which I lose it, I lose it and come out of hiding and face him. Once I do, he'll turn me into a proxy too; his set will be complete then, and another victim's voice will be left unheard once more. I've tried killing him but nothing, n-nothing works! Shooting him, stabbing him, setting him on fire, nothing I've tried has worked...!"
I grabbed at my hair, wishing this nightmare would just end. All I wanted was to wake up from this horrible dream, once and for all.
"James, James listen to me: I believe you." Those words leaving Kendall's lips soon made my breathing relax. Well, relax somewhat.
"Y-you...you do? You don't think I'm crazy?" I asked, meeting his eyes.
"No, I don't think you are. I believe...I believe you are telling me the truth. James, you've been haunted by this...thing for years. I can see it in your eyes, this Slender Man has you on the edge ready to snap, and you want to save your friends. You want to save them and I want to help you, I want to help you stop him!" Kendall exclaimed, cupping my face with his hands.
I wish I could say something, anything to say how much his words have made me feel.
But soon, I felt it.
Nothing.
An emptiness consumed me, like a black hole opening up inside me.
I felt myself lose sight of Kendall, lose sight of everything around me.
The light on suddenly started to hurt, like a lit cigarette to my skin.
I heard static ringing louder and louder in my ears, and I began to grow sick.
Blood, blood panted my fingers as it poured from my nose, all the while the urge to vomit overwhelmed me.
"James! James! JAMES!"
A tall, tall figure in a black suit. A tall, tall figure in a black suit and tie, but no face.
'You can't run James.'
"HE'S HERE!"