AN: This is my longest chapter. Ever. This is over 3K words. Which is a lot. Hope ya like it :)

I don't own Slenderman in any form, any matter, any way, or anything else I can think of.

Reviewers are my sunshine, my only sunshine. They make me happy, when skies are gray. I can keep on singing but I'm pretty sure you get the point.

Chapter 9

I woke up feeling wonderfully refreshed. Yet this time, I didn't wake up because of the sun. Not even because of any sounds, like the birds I was so used to hearing. The sense of smell pulled me to consciousness this time, the aroma of breakfast calling my name. Did I even dream last night? There was the nightmare with my parents being all creepy, but I don't remember any other dreams. Still keeping my eyes closed, I stretch from my position on the couch. I can't help it; this couch is more comfy than my bed. My stomach rumbles at the delightful scent of… pancakes? With maple syrup too. Oh man, pancakes. Haven't had any of those because my mother gave up on cooking at the moment. Maybe not just a moment, but the point is, this was going to be one heck of a breakfast.

With a slight groan at having to actually move my limbs, I get up from the elongated couch. I don't have a good idea at how this cabin has its rooms arranged, but like a bloodhound, I track the scent. Once I arrive at the kitchen, I see Slenderman flipping a pancake like a Master Chef. Not that Master Chefs flip pancakes, but if they did, they would be welcoming the tall guy in the gang. Looking at the pancakes closely, I see something that makes me smile in the inside and definitely on the outside. Blueberries. There are blueberries in the pancakes. Breakfast from heaven. My mouth waters at the thought of finally eating these masterpieces.

I hope you like blueberry pancakes.

"Are you kidding me? I absolutely love those! You better watch out, because I'm going to eat them all. Every single crumb. I will empty the whole plate. I will seriously…"

I believe I get the point, little one. I made a good choice.

"Good choice… for me. You're not even getting the chance to take a bite."

Good thing I wasn't planning to, anyway. I don't eat human food.

"You're missing out, then," I conclude, before realizing what he said, "Wait, then what do you eat?"

It's hard to explain… well look at this, the pancakes are done. Take as much as you want.

"Nope, nope, nope," I take a huge breath dramatically, "and nope. Nuh uh. No way."

That sounds very negative, if you ask me.

"Well I didn't even ask in the first place," I respond, "But still, you will absolutely not avoid my questions. I don't allow it."

Someone wants to be the queen bee.

"Hey!" I exclaim, "Rude. Let's not get off topic. What do you eat?"

Eat is not the appropriate word. It's more like consume.

"I don't see a difference."

But I do. Eating actually requires chewing and swallowing. I don't do either. No need for a mouth to consume the way I do.

I was about to scold him for not giving me the specific answer I wanted, but my belly grumbled to remind me of a certain food waiting at my disposal. I guess I can discuss this later, but for now, my taste buds and my hunger both need to be satisfied. I serve myself a few pancakes, and walk to the dining room. I sit down and without waiting for Slenderman, which probably would be the right thing to do, I start to scarf the pancakes down. I didn't even put the syrup provided or anything, because I was so desperate to savor the deliciousness of blueberry pancakes. Wow, Slenderman was without a doubt a Master Chef!

Remember to breathe.

"How did you even make these? This is like a gift from heaven!"

What if I told you it was?

I turn my head slowly towards him, not fully believing him, save for the little voice in my head that he might be telling the truth. I peer my eyes at him, trying to read his expression, but there is none to read. My green eyes staring at his non-eyes, I give up and chow down even more pancake goodness.

You know I was just kidding, right? I didn't go up to heaven just to get breakfast that I won't even eat. In fact, I wouldn't even be allowed to go there in the first place.

"Pssh, I totally knew you were joking," I lie, before taking another bite. "By the way, why couldn't you go to heaven? You're a freakin' supernatural being!"

Take a look at me, little one. I don't look like I belong in heaven, don't I?

"Hey, what's so wrong with you?" I question, "If you really believe that, then you should at least see that you don't belong in hell either."

I honestly don't think so, but how about we agree to disagree.

"Whatever."

By now I already wiped my plate clean. That was the best breakfast I had in a while. Sighing contently, I bring my plate over to the kitchen sink to wash it. Having eaten solid food, now I want to drink something to wash the pancakes down. I really don't want to bother Slenderman, but hey, he wouldn't be rude to me, right?

"Um… do you have something to drink? The pancakes were so yummy, but I need something to wash them down."

That's what I forgot!

"Uh, what did you forget? Something to drink?"

Slenderman suddenly turns to me quickly. In my point of view, he looks surprised. I can tell through the way he has his arms slightly raised and the way he's giving me his full attention. What did I do now?

You heard that?

"Heard what?"

That I forgot. You said that I forgot something.

"Well, yeah, that's what you told me, right?"

How did she read my mind? She's just a little human, without such capabilities.

"I'm guessing that's a habit now, huh? With you calling me little. You're just too tall."

You heard that too?

"Of course I did. You messaged me, didn't you?"

Slenderman stays quiet, not answering my question. He seems deep in thought; every so often taking rapid glances at me for some reason. What's the big deal? We've already been messaging each other through each other's mind for some time already. Why is he acting like this? Then again, he's been confusing me for some time as well.

Before we met, did you read minds? Were you some psychic?

"No… it would be cool but this is my first time mind messaging. Why?"

You're reading a few of my thoughts now.

"Duh, I have been doing that for the entire time I was with you. What's so different this time?"

You don't understand. You're reading some thoughts I don't intentionally send to you.

"You mean," I say, slowly coming to realization, "I'm legit reading your mind."

Yes.

"Woah!" I exclaim, "That is cooler than cool! I'm not just a little human anymore, hah!"

You still are a little human. Reading minds doesn't change that fact.

"Hey. Don't kill my vibe. Don't you get it? I'M. READING. MINDS."

Slenderman just stares at me while I'm prancing about the kitchen, while I ramble on about how I'm going to be one awesome psychic and how I now get to see what everyone else is thinking. I feel so ecstatic right now, until Slenderman does exactly what I told him not to do. Knocked out my vibe cold.

It's only going to work with me; you can't do that with anybody else.

"You're lying."

Sorry, but that's the truth.

The little voice comes back telling me that it's certain that Slenderman is telling the truth now. I really want to keep up my vibe, but Mr. I Kill People's Dreams ruined it. Ugh. Thanks a lot. I turn to the dream killer and frown.

"Why did you have to kill my vibe? You deserve a penalty, but since I have mercy unlike someone, I'll let you go."

Why should I get a penalty? I did nothing wrong.

"Yes you did. You broke one of The Rules Of The Universe. According to it you deserve a penalty for destroying someone's dreams, but I'll just give you a warning, because my kindness knows no boundaries."

Wow, I feel so lucky.

What enthusiasm.

"Indeed. Just don't demolish people's dreams next time."

Whatever you say, little one.

Thinking about what he said a little more, I wonder, can I read his mind whenever I want? Like, if I concentrate all my psychic powers or whatever, can I really read all his thoughts? It's worth a try. I stare intently at the faceless man as I try to enter his mental boundaries. I think we just stand there for five minutes. Maybe it was ten, fifteen, or longer, because I'm pretty bad at guessing measures. Just as I was about to give up… okay, nothing happened anyway. I let my kind relax, or what I think was relaxing.

Is she still trying to read my mind?

I widen my eyes a little when I hear this. Well look at that, it finally worked. I guess the key to doing this mind stuff is to relax your mind, not to focus it. A smirk forms on my face at having accomplished my goal for the past minutes.

"Hey, give me a break, I'm still new to mind reading. It's not like I have a For Dummies book or anything."

Who knows, you may have The Instructions Of The Universe.

"What?" I ask, tilting my head, "Never heard of that. Nope, only heard of The Rules Of The Universe. The universe has no instructions. It's too complicated."

Then why aren't your rules complicated, hm?

"Because of the same reason. Since the universe is too complicated, we are provided with these rules to live in harmony and peace and other cliché words."

I suppose that makes sense.

"Certainly does."

We stand there for a while, not really doing anything, until I remember to ask him something.

"So… do you have anything to drink at all?"

After Slenderman got a gallon of milk from who knows where and I finally felt satisfied, we said our goodbyes and he teleported me home. To be specific, he teleported me to my room. Reason being that I remembered to lock the door, but with my level of stupidity, I left my keys on the nightstand as well. My nightstand is turning into a lost and found center. Or at least a forgotten one. First my watch and then my house key, what would I forget next?

It was already almost noon when I got back home, so the sun was all the way up, streaming its rays through my windows. There won't be anymore letter on my window sill anymore, since Slenderman told me that I could just go and visit him anytime. Well, at least he told me that I could visit him anytime, but to try avoiding coming in the night. I'm not completely sure why, but I figured it probably has to do with those untold techniques he tried not to tell me. I shouldn't blame him though, I must be his first human friend, so most likely he's new to all this stuff. Just like how he's my first, well, nonhuman friend. Now that I think about it, he's my second friend. I honestly don't count Mary/Maria/Marion. My first friend was Heather. I sigh in nostalgia.

Heather. Where do I start? She was pretty crazy and wouldn't stop to take care of her own well-being. She always dragged me to any place she thought was cool and had to show me. It didn't matter how close or how far it was. It could be as close as her attic to as far as the supermarket (which had to be a half hour walk unless my younger self exaggerated it). She always put her hair up in a braid, she told me it was because her mother wanted her to act all ladylike. Braiding her hair was one of those small steps it took to convince her mom she was as feminine as a young lady could be. She wore dresses and jewelry, just like my own mother. Which is why that saying is so true: Don't judge a book by its cover.

Now that I started thinking about Heather, I suddenly miss her so much. I look over at my nightstand and by where my house key is a simple green picture frame with a photo of Heather and me. She bought the frame herself when she was about to move, and told me that I was the best friend she ever had. The picture frame is green because that was her favorite color. It's the color of her dad's uniform and of the four-leaf clover. Not to mention it's also the color of Granny Smith apples, her favorite kind. In the picture frame is a photo Heather took of us sitting on the edge of the fountain at the plaza a few miles from here. My mother drove us there because she had to do some shopping, and Heather really wanted to hang out with me. She was wearing a sky blue shirtwaist dress while I was in my not so pretty red T-shirt and jeans. Not that I cared. The dress would look better on her than me.

What's my mother doing anyway? I hope she's feeling better. I step quietly down the stairs as I go see where could she be. My stomach clenches up when I see she's in the bathroom. It goes away though when I hear the toilet flush without any sounds of puking. My mother opens and goes out the door, her face not revealing anything. She looks at me briefly before heading her way to the living room. I follow her there, interested in what she's up to. She sits down on the couch she was sobbing on not so long ago. She looks at the TV remote for a moment or two before reaching for it and turning on the TV. I try to hold back a smile, happy that she's starting to go back to her normal schedule, but not wanting to make her uncomfortable. When I see what show is on the screen, I actually consider the fact that the forces of the universe or some type of bad karma I'd against me. There, on the TV, is an episode of The Divorce Court. My mother quicky presses the power button before setting the remote beside her. She just sighs and sits there, looking deep in thought, though I can't say for sure. It's like when I can't tell what Slenderman is feeling for sure, but that's because he has no face. My mom does have a face yet she makes it unreadable, keeping a neutral expression.

I feel so awkward standing there, so I just walk back up the stairs to my room. Once I'm there, I look at my desk and see my sketchbook, untouched for a long time. I would always show my drawings to my parents, but my father stopped taking interest in me and my mother didn't take interest in anything. Before I know it, I have the sketchbook in my hands, and I'm flipping through it. It's like a timeline made out of drawings. When I first got it, I was ten. I got it from my father, who encouraged my love for art. My first drawings were kind of shaky. Okay, they were really bad, but that was when I was just starting. It would be simple things like flowers and fruits at first. But as my skills improved, I started drawing animals and people. It progressed from scenes such as that fountain at the plaza to things from my imagination. I'd say I do really well recently, but with current events, I lost interest myself.

I shook my head. I'm not going to let the depression and anxiety if my parents to affect me. I pick up a pencil and a white vinyl eraser to start drawing whatever comes to mind. My kind is blank right now, but I'm sure something will come to me. I close my eyes, and I see the after affects of seeing the sun, even if it's in the peripheral vision. When I was in the woods, talking with Slenderman, there was the sun, warming me up, despite the morning chill. The man of the forest didn't seem affected though, because as he said, he lived for a very long time, more than enough to adapt. Heck, he adapted so much that he looks like the trees themselves. He has long skinny limbs, almost like the branches of the trees. He would make a very nice tree. And a well dressed one at that. I smile splits my face, extending from ear to ear. I would have never guessed in the past that I was going to be friends with a supernatural being in a suit who lived in the forest for several centuries. Wow. It sounds unbelievable, like fantasy, when I say that, but it's true.

Just now I noticed that my hand was moving, already drawing lines and shapes on the paper. It's not competed, of course, but I can see its form. How wouldn't I recognize the form? It's Slenderman, with his suit and long limbs and all. But that's not the thing that jumps out at me. It's his hand. He is slightly bent towards the viewer's perspective, and his spindly arm is stretched toward the viewer. His hand is open, waiting for them to take it. It's from when I first met him. Now filled up with inspiration and determination, I finish the drawing, shading it in. After thinking about it, I decide to use a small amount of color. There's the dark green of the pine trees, the navy blue of a small river I added in the background, and last but certainly not least, the deep silky red of his tie.

Finally finished, I sit back at my chair, my backbones cracking at the sudden movement. I admire my completed artwork, and think about showing it to him. Yes, I will. The next time I go to the woods, I'll bring this with me and show him. After all, he's the only one who'll show interest. Heather too, if she was here. Whenever she came over, I would show her my drawings, and she would point out which ones she liked best. Even when I had to go somewhere and I left the sketchbook with her, she would write her comments down. She would take index cards and stick them where the drawing was with her opinion on it. I flip to a random page and see a drawing of an apple. Rome, to be exact, seeing its shiny dark red skin. On the index card, it said: "Nice shading. I like how you added the shine. Though next time, make a green one. Granny Smith is a whole lot better." When I flip through the sketchbook, I see that I really did draw a green apple, and glancing at the index card, I see she added a smiley face. It's contagious because now I'm smiling too.

Wanting to go to the bathroom, I head once again downstairs. Entering the bathroom, I notice out of the corner of my eye that the drawers under the sink are opened a crack, and there's a box sticking out. Curious, I open the drawers and read what the box says. Curiosity killed the cat. That saying echoes in my mind as my eyes widen at what is written on the box. My hands tremble when I flip the box over, having to read more to fully believe this. In bold lettering, it says "Pregnancy Test". Not only that, but it's open. I look inside to find the actual test itself gone. I look in the drawers to find two other opened empty boxes that say "Pregnancy Test" as well. I'm panicking now, wondering why my mother would want these, much less use these. With an eye of a detective, I search the bathroom for clues, hoping for the slightest indication of the location of the missing tests. My eyes rest on the mini trashcan, and opening it, I see a bunch of tissues. I don't give up that easily. I dump the contents in the floor, and hear a clatter. Bingo. But when I see those tests. Did my heart stop beating? My lungs stop inhaling and exhaling? My brain stop thinking? Not exactly the case for my brain, it's more like a broken record, repeating the same word over and over again. For that single second, my senses refuse to work out of shock. My eyes stop seeing and my ears stop hearing. All I can perceive of reality at that moment is that word. Again and again.

Positive. Positive. Positive.