You're drunk and you know it. You were drunk seventeen shots ago, and yet you ignored that fact and just kept going. The bottom of every glass was a chance at relief from the memories that haunt you. You shouldn't be this torn up about that guy anyway. He was a dick, plain and simple, and yet here you were, drunk as an Englishman, all thanks to him. You stare at the lights that swim in your vision until that little voice inside your head yells, Go home, [name]. You're drunk.
You stumble out of your seat at the bar and push through the doors to the outside. Everything is so dark and quiet that it shakes some of your drunken stupor away. You really have to pay attention to where you are going so you don't run into anybody. Not that there is anybody to run into. The sidewalk is void of people at this ungodly hour. Your head pounds. God, how much did you drink? The fact that you are unable to remember is probably not a good sign. Everything starts to spin, so you sit down on a conveniently placed bench and think about all the terrible choices you have made that led to this equally awful moment. You know that if you don't get up and go home you will fall asleep here. Sleeping now would be so stupid that even your alcohol-soaked brain rejects it immediately and pushes you up. You continue your stumble home until-
"Say a word sweetheart and you won't live to see the morning." A rough hand covers your mouth and you can't put enough thoughts together to do more than struggle weakly. You are thrown back into the alley your assailant came from. Sprawling across some putrid garbage, you can see that there are not one, but two men before you. They are unkempt and are both leering at you in a way that sends broken shivers up your spine.
"Take anything of value." the first man says to the other. "And when you're done, maybe we can have a little fun with her."
You know what that means. It isn't rocket science. You try to back up, but there just so happens to be a wall at your back. If you hadn't gotten so damn drunk, you could have probably escaped. As it is, you can't move fast enough to fight or flee, so that leaves the worst possible choice: being mugged and, you shudder at the thought, raped by these men.
They descend on you, ripping at your necklace and bracelets. With two tugs, they tear the diamond earrings from your ears, leaving your earlobes torn and bleeding but you are too numb to register the pain. They rifle through your pockets and find your wallet and cell phone. You know that's all you have of value and that can only mean… Oh God no, please, no.
The bigger of the two men suddenly is behind you and has your hair in his grubby hands. He pulls back, which leaves your neck exposed. With his free hand, he pulls out a rusty knife and presses it to your Adam's apple, hard. "Do what you want. Make sure to leave some for me."
You squeeze your eyes shut, begging for this to just be a alcohol-induced dream that you are having passed out at the bar. No such luck. This is very real and definitely terrifying. You wait in terror, then-
THUNK.
The man before you falls forward and you cringe when you feel something metallic-smelling permeate the air and a heavy weight fall on you.
"What the- You there! Stay where you are! I will kill her."
You dare to open your eyes and are met with the most horrific scene you have ever witnessed. The man that was before you is slumped in your lap with an hatchet sticking out of his head. Blood pools on the ground around him and it drenches your clothes. You try to look around in order to see who committed this murder, and your eyes land on a silhouette of a thin man with a hatchet in one of his hands. It takes a minute to connect the two things, but eventually you realize that he must have thrown it at your attacker. The figure leaps down from the roof of the low building and stands on the top of the dumpster that sits against the wall.
"Stay back! I will kill her!" You feel the knife at your throat tremble and leave a bloody cut.
The killer before you laughs. "Come now. Let the lady go and you won't find your skull split in two." Your blood runs, if possible, even colder. This man is more dangerous that the one restraining you.
The man behind you immediately drops you and steps away. "Okay, man. Please leave me alone. I was just going."
"Drop the knife." the killer hisses.
You can hear the audible clang as it hits the dirty stone.
"Just kidding. I feel like killing you." The man leaps from his perch onto the other man with cat-like agility. You hear ribs break and terrible moaning come from your assailant. A happy chuckle escapes the murderer. "You should know better than to hurt people." he chides. You can see the irony in that statement, even in your current state. The killer begins to bash the back of the man's skull with the flat of his blade, all the while laughing. What seems like an eon later, the killer says sadly, "Aw, come on. We were having too much fun for you to just die on me. Oh well," He gets to his feet slowly and, to your horror, you see him twitch. "You're still here." He steps forward and yanks his other weapon out of the skull of the other man and slowly walks over to you.
You finally get some of your wits about you and plead with the killer, "Don't hurt me."
He just stands before you, twitching slightly. A passing car's lights give you a look at the killer's face. He has a scarf pulled over his mouth. The pattern on it almost resembles an insane smile. His eyes are covered by yellow reflective goggles that effectively cover the rest of his face. What isn't covered is deathly pale and it leaves an afterimage on your retinas.
"Who-who are you?" you whisper in awe-inspired terror.
"Well, I suppose most people call me Ticci Toby. See you around, [name]." He is gone as soon as he had come.
You finally stumble to your feet and stare after him before scrambling at the corpses for your phone to dial 911.
Only once you sober up you realize that Ticci Toby had known your name even though you had never told him.