"It seems as though he has left." he says, the front of his head trained intently on the door.
"Who?" Tim asks, innocently coming out of the dusty closet he was hiding in. I scolded him a while back, warning him that he'd get a runny nose. Being the stubborn boy he is, he shut himself in for a lengthy time. Slender man sighed inwardly. He walked over to Tim and placed him on his shoulders.
"A-are we leaving?" I say, clumsily getting out of bed and tripping on the loose sheets.
"Yes."
I stare at him for a moment. His hand was outstretched towards me, waiting for me to hold on. I hesitantly approach him at first, but accept his hand in mine. I am startled at how shaken he is. Though he has no face to prove so, I can feel it in his touch. Tim clutches onto his collar, much to Slender man's chagrin. He grunts before swinging the door open with one of his appendages.
I see the same hallway I did, but there were a few modifications. There were scratches on the door we were behind, along with a few bloody handprints. One of the marks started from he top of the door all the way to the bottom. The age of the door contributed to the small hole forming, allowing light from the dizzying room to flood into the dreary hallway. The echoes under his polished black shoes were bouncing off of the walls, and the occasional drops of water leaking from the ceiling joined the choir.
After a few twists and turns and going up a staircase, we emerged out of the building. Like he said, we were underground. I looked back at where we came from. There is a charred black roof protruding from dry soil. It is partially covered with moss, and you'd see the occasional skittering of insects on the surface. I bring my attention back to where we are and see that we're back in the garden. Slender Man sighed as he put Tim back on the ground.
"I suppose it…. Would be best for you to go back home," He said, not facing me.
"Yeah! I can't wait to te-!" Timothy was cut off when my elbow collided with the underside of his ribs. I stepped in front of him and stood behind Slendy, who was still not paying attention.
"Why all of the sudden?" I ask with a hushed tone.
"I though you'd be safe here." He turns his milky white head to face me. I step back. His aura of evil is slowly getting to me.
"Turns out that not even this place could protect you." He finishes, shaking his head. I open my mouth to ask what the hell was he going on about, but he must have sensed I would do that and he knelt down to face me.
"You're special, Therese." He says. I stare at him for a long time, a time unbeknownst to both of us. I took the moment to study his – where his face would be. It was a completely blank surface, yet you could see the hollows of his cheeks and eyes. Though they were faint, it was enough to make him look more… real. He broke the moment we shared, standing up and straightening his midnight dark suit. I blinked, and all in a second I was in my bedroom, with no one else in sight.
I look around and rush to my bedroom window. My dad's car is parked there! I hurriedly scurry downstairs and am tangled within the arms of someone. I inhale the person's scent; he is my father. He smells like the cologne he always wore. I slip away from his grip to be met with a middle-aged man with tan skin. His brown hair is mixed with locks of gray, and it was sticking up from our encounter with one another.
"Good evening dear!" He exclaims, not caring that the neighbors are probably sleeping. He hangs his green coat at the back of the door and proceeds to place a few plastic bags on the dining table. What is this? No 'Where have you been?' or 'Are you okay?' Was my absence unknown in this world? Perhaps the time I spent with Him does not actually count as time back in the 'real' world. My father interrupts my thoughts by his pretentious whistling. He takes a seat on the couch and flicks on the TV. An image spurs to life. There is a woman on the screen. She is the same age as my father.
Her dull blonde hair is done in a bun and she stares right at me, her piercing blue eyes boring into my soul. She, however, is not looking at me. She is looking at a screen behind the camera for her lines. She has a ubiquitous smile on her face which highlights the wrinkles breaking through her make up. It is disgusting.
"Where's Tim?" He asks, popping a few biscuits in his mouth and readjusting his glasses. I crane my neck in his direction. Who is Tim?
"Who?" I ask, my voice a bit hoarse. He doesn't respond for a moment, so I clear my throat and repeat myself. He looks at me from behind the couch with one of his eyebrows perched at the top of his forehead. His glasses slip slightly, but he doesn't readjust it.
"Your brother. Timothy." He says matter-of-factly. I stand there, trying to process what he is saying.
"I don't have a brother. I never had one." I say, turning back to the staircase. My father is acting rather strange, I guess I'll sleep it off.
"Go get some rest, sweetheart. You sound very tired." He says. There is a rustling of plastic, and I know that his firm hands are digging for another biscuit. I climb the stairs carefully. The only source of light is from the window at the top of the stairs, and even that is obscured by horrible pink curtains.
There is a faint depression on my bed. I can almost see myself sleeping there peacefully. The room has a dim glow and is completely silent, save for the ticking of my wall clock. I lay down on my bed and get under my sheets, hoping for a deep slumber that would put me out of this strange mood. However, I am not able to fall asleep. It's as if I had been awake the whole day. Now that I think about the day, I feel like I'm missing something. Perhaps that's what is keeping me from sleeping. Bereavement.
I sit up, rubbing my cold legs. I attempt to recall the events of today, yet my mind is foggy and will not cooperate. I sit there silently for what seems like hours until my father opens the door rather roughly.
"I know you're still up. What's going on?" I blink and the world seems to sway. I feel that my father is slipping away from me when I let out a loud cough.
"Oh dear, are you sick?" he asks, putting a hand to my forehead. His hand is cold. I shiver and gently fall back on my bed. Father pulls out a thermometer from the cabinet in my bathroom. He slips it under my arm and sits back down. The metal end of the thermometer feels funny; I giggle at its touch.
"What's so funny?" He asks, a smile forming on his face. I stop laughing. What was funny? I move under the sheets to face the window at my left. There is a tree there and its leaves flutter in the wind. There are a few branches, but the tree itself isn't close enough to the house to make the branches scratch against the glass. I hear a sigh and my eyes move to meet my father's.
"Go to sleep, dear. You still have to go to school tomorrow."
"Right after this." I say, pointing at the contraption in between my arm and my torso. A small beep was heard seconds later, and I allowed my father to slip it from under my arm.
"No fever. Get rest. See you in the morning, Therese." He says. He seemed in a hurry to leave my room. I nodded slightly to acknowledge his departure and faced the window again. The slender figure of the tree and the fluid sway of the dark branches make me sleepy. I must have been tired, the moon positioned itself on top of the tree to make it look like someone. The tree itself was very, very dark. I couldn't see the detail of the wood anymore. The branches looked like noodles and the moon was the apex. It all seemed so familiar, but I am defeated by the drowsiness and I fall asleep.
A/N: Hello my lovelies. I have recently been going through a lot of personal problems, throw in school and my horrible **********, and that equals no updates. In fact, I still have a lot of homework to do. So much that it hurts my hands. I'm sorry for the sucky chapter.
Please, leave a review, tell me what you think. Again, I apologize to my avid readers... I'm so sincerely sorry.