Author's Note: Should I be disturbed that I wrote 23,000 words in 2 weeks? I actually like this story a lot more than I thought I would. Originally I never wanted to write it, you know just find it already written and be able to read it. I'm enjoying it though. I took a lot of creative liberties I'll admit. But I do love these characters. They're super fun to work with. Toby is by far my favorite.
WHY IS LJ SO DAMN HARD TO WRITE JESUS CHRIST I AM STILL HAVING TROUBLE WITH THE CURRENT CHAPTER IT'S THE SAME ONE. I literally wrote ch 12 like a week ago I have so many chapters backed up for when I don't have time to write I can just hit publish before class. Yay. I haven't had this much trouble with a chapter since early on in The Fire Under the Streets (my main novel)!
*So another author I really enjoy recommended a fic called Candy Hearts LJxOC horror and romance fic) which is excellent once you get used to the first person. Been reading for inspiration because I've had the least experience with LJ or.. trying to write him I guess in a redeemable pattern I don't know how else to explain it. Anyway. It's a great read so far.
Laughing Jack
Though Melanie had no intention of opening Laughing Jack's box she found her feet pointing in the direction of the locked room. When she reached the door she tried the knob and found it locked. A small surge of static ran through her hand and the knob turned the rest of the way. So Slender was still around. He was watching her, perhaps to see what she would do. Melanie opened the door slowly in fear of what else might be lurking in the spare room. In truth the room was almost completely empty. She closed the door lightly behind her.
Light hardwood floors spanned the length of the room bordered by chipped beige walls. There was an empty bookshelf and simple cushioned dining chair stored in the back right corner of the room. The only other furniture in the room was a small end table adorned with a wooden box. No noise reached her ears as she glided towards the miniature prison. The painted paper covering the outside was faded and peeling off and the handle wasn't properly secured. Tiny spikes had grown like stalagmites from every surface of the box as though to dissuade anyone from disturbing it. She racked her brain but could not remember the box being described bearing needles or looking like the sides would fall apart if she so much as blew on them.
Melanie knelt down and felt her throat tighten in time with the pang in her chest. "Hi Laughing Jack," she whispered as she reached toward the box. In response to her voice the spikes lengthened slightly as though ordering her to keep away.
"Well I didn't come all this way for nothing so you'll just have to deal with it for a few minutes. Kinda surprised you don't want anyone around. Maybe it's just me I mean I am talking to a box so I'm not exactly the most sane company," she drawled on good-naturedly. There was a pause before the box retracted its spikes to the length they were before.
"You were trying to talk to me, right? I dreamt about this room. Figured I should come say hi."
She sighed and leaned against the sturdy table so that her head was almost touching the box. Despite its fearsome appearance, she was not afraid of it. As long as she didn't turn the handle, it couldn't do anything.
"There's even dust on the floor... I wonder if magical boxes are allergy barriers too?" similar to the feeling she had in the dream, but much fainter this time, she felt the energy of a laugh move through her. Unlike the way Slender spoke in full sentences in her mind, this was like an emotion appearing that wasn't hers. It wasn't quite a conversation, but maybe with time they could get better at it.
"There's something I have to do right now, I kind of screwed things up with someone earlier. Maybe I'll come back some time and dust the room off and talk to you some more?" Well before she finished Melanie felt a resounding no reverberate through her bones. It was a command to stay. The spikes warped into long, sharp threads, searching for something to ensnare.
"Knock it off! If you throw a temper tantrum I'm leaving and I'm not coming back!" she told the box sternly. This only worsened the being's reaction and gave the strings a voice to concentrate on. Several of them lunged for her feet and she dove to the side as they lashed out again.
"The hell is going on?" A voice yelled from the door that had been thrown open in response to the chaos. The threads paused, curious about the new voice. Melanie took the opportunity to raise a finger to her lips and tiptoe to a new location. Laughing Jack realized he'd been tricked and the threads shot out again frantically.
"You know you're never going to make any friends like this," she scolded, backing through the door. "I'll give you another chance but for right now I'm closing the door." Melanie, Tim, and Brian slammed the door shut and locked it as a great weight was thrown against it from the opposite side.
Tim grabbed her by the shoulders and practically shook her. "What were you thinking?" he demanded. "No, what was He thinking, letting you in there? Were you actually planning on letting that thing out?"
"No," she said, measuring her next words carefully. "No I don't plan on letting him out. To be perfectly honest, he contacted me through a dream. It only did that when I tried to leave and I can understand why."
Tim shook is head in disbelief and Brian ran his hand down his face. "He could have easily killed you," Brian said.
"Whether you empathize with that manipulative demon is up to you but just know that it will do anything, say anything, make you believe anything to try to get you to let it out. It's heartless. It doesn't want company, it wants freedom. Do you have that little value for your life?"
Tim's accusation made Melanie go red in the face. Now it was her turn to be outraged. "Maybe I do! Why should it be any concern to you? It's not like it's some great burden on everyone if I die! I don't owe you my existence!" she spat furiously. "Look, it's been less than two days since I died and came back. Maybe I was supposed to stay there. The last two days I haven't felt right- I don't feel like I should be alive so yes, I do have a death wish. I wish someone would just kill me where I stand so I don't have to deal with the conflict inside me that no sane person should have!" she yelled. The silence was thick in the air with unspoken words. The locked room was quiet, listening.
"What conflict?" Tim asked cautiously.
"The- the fact that I should be missing my parents and trying to do everything I can to get home and thinking of nothing but home and just living a normal life again. And somehow I'm getting along with people here? I shouldn't be getting attached to anyone here! I should be running for the hills! I shouldn't be thinking about the fact that... that in a month or so I'll probably never see anyone here again and- I don't understand what I'm supposed to feel anymore," she choked. It was only made worse knowing that nearly everyone in the house had just heard that outburst.
Tim and Brian were at a loss for words. They were saved by the small sound of someone behind Melanie clearing their throat. She quickly wiped her eyes and turned around.
"Toby?"
The masked teen looked equally worse for wear. "I, uh..." he stammered. He crossed his hands behind his back to hide the tics running through them. "Sorry bout earlier. I think I would have felt like shit if you died in there and that was the last thing I said to you," he said.
"Well it was either that or keeping it from me. It would only be a worse conversation later, right?"
Toby shifted his weight from foot to foot. She heard Tim and Brian quietly apologizing and retreating, not wanting to intrude on whatever awkward conversation was about to go down.
"I shouldn't have snapped at you though-"
"And I probably shouldn't have just waltzed into that room. We were both idiots for a brief period in time. But my friend list," she gestured with her hands. "It's very small. You and Ben are like my only close friends here. I'm not really sure what to call Jeff but I think he gets his own list. I don't want this one mistake to make it so we can't talk to each other again. That's crazy! If every friendship or relationship ended after one fight I'm pretty sure our species would just die."
Toby met her gaze warily. "I know it's not right to ask you if, i-if when... nevermind."
Melanie crossed her arms. "No more hiding things. This talk is gonna get really awkward and quiet unless you finish that sentence."
A crooked smile crept up Toby's face that faded quickly. "I know that as soon as you can go home you're going to be gone. It might be in a month, it might be tomorrow. But... would..."
Melanie frowned and dropped her arms to her sides as Toby fidgeted in front of her.
"When you're gone, will I ever see you again?" he asked quietly. Melanie's mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find words to an answer she did not know herself. Could one return to a place just left of reality? Could monsters and spirits throw rocks at her window and not earn some concerned glances?
Toby, thinking her answer must surely be no, started to turn away with a defeated expression. In that small moment her eyes no longer saw the half mask or pallid skin or sunken, sleepless eyes. She just saw Toby. Whatever happened between now and going home, wherever she ended up, she knew the answer as she sprinted forward and threw her arms around him. A gasp was muffled by her shoulder as arms tentatively wrapped around her in turn and Toby laid his head on her shoulder. "Yes," was all she answered.
