Chapter 2

It seemed silly to try to think of a way out when you're so far deep into a mess. It was irrevocable, pointless and above all, foolish. Why waste the last bit of time you have plotting when you should be thinking of all of the good things that occurred in life. At least then, you would die happy. Not face to face with a featureless demon who was smugly grinning, its ripped mouth dripping with wickedness. Harper could only stare, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her as they quivered. One more. He was speaking about her, she was sure of it. His black tongue outlined the jagged lips, appearing eager. Her stomach curled as it uncomfortably twisted.

She didn't even bother to pay mind to the two new faces. Then again, she wouldn't be able to say faces, considering they were masked. Covered up, only one even willing to show his eyes. At the moment, the lovely blue was looking away, not thrilled to see his master devour yet another ignorant teenager who had wandered into the woods. They all knew the stories. They all thought they were above them. And that was why they all died, one after the other.

"Is there... is there not a thing I could do?" Harper begged, her voice shaking like a leaf, nearly to the point where it was unintelligible. But she could tell, the monster understood her. Why else would his grin grow wider, his body shaking as if he were... laughing.

She then heard the deep rumble as the beast laughed, his head throwing back with the force of it. "Anything you could do?" the demonic rumble chuckled, as he leaned down, his face inches from hers. Roughly swallowing, she leaned back as far as she dared. "What could you possibly do that would interest me, besides being my meal?" the monster snickered, his forked tongue mimicking a snake's. Not to mention the tendrils behind his back swaying-what was he?

Staring back at the mansion, she raked through her mind, trying to pry any idea out of the chaotic mess that tried to contain itself. What could she do for the beast? It had just snapped her friends like twigs; what could spare her life?

"I could work for you-I don't know," she cried, snapping her eyes shut. It wouldn't be long before one of those tendrils that appeared like tentacles twisted forward, wrapping around her neck. She would rather not see it coming.

"He already has people working for him, girlie," the once pleasant voice morphing into an irritated snap. She knew it was the blue-eyed white-masked boy without even looking.

"What work do you speak of?" the demonic grumble questioned, his amusement growing. After all, she didn't imagine it was something he was used to. Only the screams or curses from his victims. Yet one was asking to work for him?

"Boss!" the white-masked man hissed, his anger continuing to grow. Why, she didn't know.

"Hush, Masky," the demon snarled. "This is entertaining. Not even you requested as much. Now I will ask again. What work do you speak of?" he asked, as Harper's knees shook. She more than likely appeared as if she were about to collapse, shutting down from the sheer terror she was currently facing.

"Y-you live in that mansion," she choked out, hesitantly opening her eyes. "Do you have anyone to cook meals for all who live there? Anyone to clean it?" she tried, it being the only thing she could imagine to be useful for. Laughter bellowed from the creatures, even a raspy chuckle from the one who hadn't yet spoke. His red smile taunted her as her heart sped in her chest.

"You are offering to be a maid?" the demon clarified, still snickering in a grotesque way. "Of all the things I have heard in my many years, this is by far the most amusing," he chortled.

Cringing, Harper's head lowered. So that must be it, then. The demon simply wanted to taunt her, let her words amuse him before he consumed her whole. Tears welled in her eyes, dripping as fast as they appeared.

"Although, it would save me from meaningless work," the creature hummed, the two masked men's laughter ceasing just as quick as it had come.

"Boss, you... you can't possibly be considering this!" the blue-eyed boy... Masky scoffed.

The wicked man turned to him, cocking his head. "I will consider what I wish; you do not question me. The idea amuses me. A simple human working for a pit of serial killers. How absurd. You wouldn't last a day, child," he mused, although Harper noticed the dark aura that surrounded him was fading. A single spark of hope filled her, her heart roughly thumping from the thought.

"I... I could still try," she nodded, holding her head high with confidence.

The wicked being smiled, it jagged and filled with hate. "How interesting it would be to see. Considering I am satiated from your young friends, and curious to see how long you last-I accept your offer, Miss." The white-masked man let out a strangled growl, angry for some unknown reason. The demonic being ignored him completely. "However, do not expect me to aid you when another inhabitant of the mansion reacts differently," he sneered, "and I assure you they will. The blood thirsty creatures that lurk inside are filled with more hate than even I. Best of luck, Miss. And Welcome to Slender Mansion," he smirked, as ice filled her veins.

Looking back at the magnificent building, Harper wondered whether she had made the correct decision. It was ludicrous; she had never dreamed it would work. That snap decision that fell from her lips had been the only thing her mind could conjure at that dire moment. Yet it had worked, of all things. Only because the creature possessed a malicious intent for entertainment, just to watch her struggles. She knew, that even though that vile creature had killed three people whom she had been close to, she now owed him her life. She was the only one to survive. The only way for her to continue that streak of luck was to win their affections. How to do that, she didn't know.

"I'm Harper," she breathed, figuring that it was the best way for her to start.

The demonic creature seemed to change before her. Still, he was the most intimidating creature she has ever laid eyes on. But his inhuman height seemed to dwindle, shrinking, although he still remained incredibly tall. That grotesque smile faded on his featureless face, leaving it a pale slate with simple indents where his eyes should be. The harsh points of his bones showed where his cheekbones laid, along with his brows that seemed to be furrowed in confusion. Lastly, those tendrils melted away, disappearing.

"Slenderman," he responded, using the name most used for him. Truthfully, he had no name. But it was enough. "Those two are Masky and Hoodie," his voice continued, from no clear source. It had shifted from the demonic growl, to a velvet rasp. "As our new maid," he scoffed, seeming unable to help it, "let us have you start out with preparing breakfast for the mansion in the morning. I shall leave you a list of what to prepare. Not everything on that will be as simple as you hope," he chuckled, darkly. "Masky, show her to a spare guest room. I have work to do," he finished, before disappearing from sight.

He teleported? Harper's insides quivered as she faced the blue-eyed man. They were fierce as they stared at her, an odd mix of emotions fluttering within the azure. Even still, he silently turned, starting forward into the mansion. Forcing her feet forward, she followed him with haste, not wanting to get lost within the large mansion's walls. Who knows what she would find.

Once entering, she was truly amazed at the sight. The entry way was wide, marble floors covered only by a royal red rug that trickled up a massive staircase. Weeping statues stood in the corners, along with elegant paintings that lined the walls; their golden frames seeming to tarnish from years of neglect. Her quiet footsteps echoed along the walls, along with Masky's. The haunting atmosphere only ruined the magnificent surroundings, the darkened colors doing little to help. Blacks and greys. Darker reds and blues. Not a bright color was in sight, besides the yellow coat that clung to Masky's form. She was curious about so many things, only fearful of speaking a word to the tense man who guided her.

"Where is the kitchen?" she finally breathed, as they twisted to a new hall. No inhabitants had presented themselves yet, which she was thankful for. "I'll need to know... for in the morning."

The masked man scowled, it showing blatantly in his eyes. "First room to the right of the staircase. Hopefully you have been paying attention," he snapped in reply, not offering another word.

She wanted to ask what had him so angry. But knowing it was better to remain quiet, she did. Finally, he stopped outside of one of the many doors that lined the hall. Simple, brown wood that matched all the rest. She would have to mark it some how, to remind her where it was once she left. Nodding in thanks, she slipped inside. Reaching a blind hand along the walls, she finally found a light switch. As light flooded into the room, she shut the door.

It was a simple bedroom, the color scheme a basic beige and white. A nice turn from the usual gloom. Just a bed, a dresser and a side table. Two doors, one for a bathroom and the other for a closet, she supposed. There wasn't even a window to offer her peace to look out amongst the odd, twisting trees. Now, truly alone, it seemed like the entire day had come crashing down on her, her tears quickly returning. She had survived. Against the impossible odds, she had survived probably the most dangerous location on this planet.

Pain gripped her heart as her friend's faces melted through her thoughts, one by one. Charlotte as she gripped her bleeding ears, crying out to the unknown tormentor. Oliver, broken and purposeless, refusing to leave Charlotte's cold, dead body. Then Lyric, impaled by a jagged tree. His dark eyes lost all of their witty, yet bleak luster. A soft sob broke through her lips as she fell upon the bed, curling into a small ball. Of all of her friends, why had she been the one to live? To get this chance? Why not Charlotte, who was actually interested in the dark paranormal? Or Oliver, who seemed to be up for nearly anything in the world? Or even Lyric; his brilliant mind could have gotten him through this easily.

Yet it was her. Harper Monrey, of all people in the world. In all reality, she had probably just prolonged death. The demonic Slenderman had said it himself; he wasn't going to save her once she met the bloodthirsty eyes of another inhabitant of the mansion. She would die by morning, if one of the soulless beings realized she was here. Her sobs grew in volume as she hid her face in one of the soft pillows, the face of the dead not leaving her mind. Her family, who she would never see again. Her life that was viciously stolen from her.

As her bloodshot eyes faded as sleep called, she wanted to deny it. She knew the dark nightmares that would plague her mind right as she fell asleep. But it was inevitable. Sleep consumed her, swiping her away as a vicious cackle echoed.

It was as if she was awake. Awake, yet trapped in the bolted safe of her mind. Black swirled her vision, coating it until it lofted away, fading until she could see her hands by her sides. A new landscape surrounded her, it even more unnerving than the forest had ever been. In fact, she would skip through it merrily if she could choose. The deserted amusement park had the hairs on her arms sticking up straight, goosebumps trailing her skin. Crossing her arms, she hugged on to herself as if her life depended on it.

Broken down rides stood in the distance, some even still chaotically moving. Holey tarps and flags stood straight, no wind offering them movement. The smell of smoke lined the area, the small tinges of fire coating stalls as their toys melted away, still smiling as they did. It was empty, not a soul in sight. Looking up at the dark sky, not even stars could be seen. This place was wrong, the atmosphere deathly. It seemed to eat you away, making it hard to even breathe. Harper's panicked gold eyes shot around, the land seeming to scream for her to move.

Her feet started forward as she tried to remain calm. It was a dream. Just a dream. She chanted the silent mantra repetitively, finally seeing a large striped tent in the distance. Black and white, it matched the bleak monochrome complexion of this land. Yet once she approached the dark entry, she immediately wanted to turn back. Although she could not see what was inside, she knew that it was not a force to be reckoned with. Peering behind her, her heart stuttered at the sight of the land melting away. It was either the tent, or the empty blackness that threatened to take her. The land close paled, slowly being eaten away.

Trying to breathe evenly, she entered the bleak tent.

With a loud pop, a single spotlight shone, positioned right in the center of the tent. Harper jumped, her eyes flickering around. Seats surrounded the tent, hundreds of eyes focused intently on her. Her heart jumped to her throat as her eyes focused to the light, sweeping over each of them. They were children, that was clear enough. But their zombified appearance showed that this place had a hellish intent that was just waiting for her. The children's dead eyes glared at her, some missing, others hanging by a small strand, laying against the child's cheek. Their skin was a pale grey, blood missing from their veins. Some of their limbs were missing, prickling bone jutting out by the rotting skin. Wounds that couldn't heal coated them, going from a simple scratch to missing noses and jaws.

A small squeak fell from Harper's lips as she began to back away, terrified for the many dead bodies that circled her, staring. That was when a wicked cackle broke through the air, a tall, lanky figure stepping into the center of the spotlight. He appeared like a clown. A strange, monochrome clown with crazed, dark eyes. His dark lips were pulled into a wide smile, sharpened teeth sparkling with the desire to rip out her jugular. His shaggy black hair covered most of his face, falling to the black and white feathers that coated his shoulders, then to his striped sleeves and wrapped torso.

"So I did see a human in the mansion!" the being chuckled, his smile growing ten sizes. "Oh, what fun!" he growled, his laugh turning to a grizzling rasp that gnawed on her bones.

"W-who are you?" she stuttered, shaking where she stood.

Before she could blink, the clown had disappeared, leaving an explosion of black mist behind. A claw carefully traced across her neck, making Harper jump within her skin. Flipping around, she couldn't help the squeal that spilled from her lips as she saw the clown now standing behind her, his smile radiant as he psychotically laughed.

"I should be asking you that, sugar," he growled, his black eyes seeming to peer right through her.

Harper knew that like the Slenderman, this creature was not something she should challenge. If anything, she should be groveling at its feet. "I'm Harper," she whispered, roughly trying to swallow the lump that grew in her throat. "I'm-"

She was interrupted by the clown's cackles, his claws holding his belly as he rocked back on his heels. "Harper, is it?" he giggled, wiping away a fake tear. The overly dramatic clown flitted to her side, roughly grabbing her wrist in one of his claws. "Let me introduce myself," he snarled in her ear.

With a single snap, a wall was now behind her, her back slamming against it. The clown's wicked grin was inches from her face, a gleam of insanity leaking from his pure black eyes, and trickling down to the black smears on his cheeks. "I'm Laughing Jack, sweets. I don't know how you managed to get into the mansion alive, but I do know we are going to have some fun," he cackled, one of his claws gripping roughly around her throat.

Pinning her to the wall, he lifted her up, Harper's hands prying at his claw. With his free hand, the clown grinned broadly as he ripped one of her hands away, slamming it to the wall by her head. Gasping for air, she fought with all her might, the zombie children watching with sickening glee as the clown pulled a large nail from his seemingly endless pockets. Pressing it to the back of her hand, she managed to scream as he began to drill it straight through, blood pouring down the her wrist. Tears rained down her cheeks, as she continued to try and convince herself that this was a dream.

But what dream contained pain that felt so real? Her hand was screaming in agony, the nail impaling it before shoving roughly into the wall. The clown continued to laugh, seeming to adore the pain she was experiencing. Harper knew then, that the Slenderman was right. She wouldn't even last the night. Even her dreams were not safe in this hell.

"S-stop!" she screeched as the clown's claws tightened around her throat, threatening to puncture it due to their sharpness.

"Why should I do that, tootsie? Look at the fun we are having," he cackled, his striped cone nose nearly poking out her eye.

"I-I'm supposed to be here," she managed to choke out, causing the clown to pause, his laughter fading away. One of his dark eyebrows rose as he stared at her, that wicked smile fading away.

"What do you mean you're supposed to be here?" he growled, his rasping voice causing chills to run down her spine.

"I'm the mansion's new maid," she wheezed, still trying to pry the clown's hand away with her free hand. The other was losing feeling, the blood becoming sticky on her skin.

A new round of laughter exploded from the clown, his grip only tightening. "That's a good joke, sugar! I like jokes. I like death even more," he growled, all humor trickling away.

"N-no, I am!" she cried. "Ask Slenderman, o-or Masky," she sobbed, her lungs begging for air that the clown refused to give.

At the mere mention of the Slenderman's name, the clown's hand dropped away. A ragged scream tore through her throat, her nailed hand now being the one thing holding her up. Harper's feet dangled, inches from the ground below her.

"You say?" he murmured, running the tip of a claw over his chin. "A maid? How funny!" he giggled, shaking his head. "We've never had one of those. So are ya going to clean the mansion and cook our food and what not?" he chimed, seeming to not even pay mind to her pained expression.

The clown's emotions flipped as fast as lightning, leaving Harper dizzy as her brain tried to keep up. "Y-yes," he breathed, grimacing due to the pain of her hand.

"Oh, this should be grand! Well, sugar, you should have said so before I started nailing you to the wall," he cackled, his crazed eyes staring intently into hers.

Her scowl was full of fire, yet she refused to snap back at him. "I tried to," she calmly stated, the hole in her hand only growing larger.

"You'd better get to sleep then. I expect a fine candy breakfast in the morning," he giggled, completely ignoring her. "Oh, and don't get on my bad side, candy cane. I can do a lot worse than nail your little hand to the wall."

With one last laugh, the world trickled away into choking, black smoke.

A strangled gasp exploded through Harper's lips as she shot up from the bed. Sweat coated her skin, her hair slicked back. That dream... it was a dream. But how could she dream up a character like that psychotic clown? Curling into a small ball, she flinched right as her hand hit her knee. Looking down, she nearly screamed. A large hole was now in her hand, blood still trickling from the wound. Her pale arm was streaked with red, the blood now dry. A sickening feeling filled her as she realized that the dream had been nothing more than real. She couldn't stop the tears as she rushed to the bathroom, hunting for anything to wrap her hand with. There was nothing she could do about the white sheets that were now saturated with her blood.

Finally finding a small medical kit in one of the cabinets, she began to wrap her hand, knowing good and well it needed more attention. There was little she could do now, though. Peering into the mirror, she looked as though she had been run over by a train. Her strawberry-blonde hair was a frizzled mess, loose leaves and twigs still sticking into the curls. Dark bags seeped beneath her golden eyes, the brightness long gone. Crimson scabs stuck out against her lips, showing how hard she must have bitten them. Looking closer, she saw the purplish bloom of bruises that were starting to form around her neck. Laughing Jack.

Trying to stop the tears before they started, she backed away from the mirror. If she wanted any chance of living, she had to get to work. Breakfast had to be made from the psychotic killers that lived there; how many there were, she didn't know. She didn't want to, either. Hesitating at the door to her room, she squeaked it open. Peaking her head out the crack, she saw the hall was currently empty. Letting out a sigh of relief, she started on her way out, trying her hardest to remember the route to the kitchen. She remembered Masky saying it was the door to the right of the staircase. But the way back to the staircase?

Wandering, she paused before every hall, terrified someone would approach. As she continued along, she froze at the sound of voices echoing. Her eyes flickered around searching for somewhere-anywhere to hide. Seeing one of the statues standing against the wall, she figured that it would have to do. Bolting to its side, she hunched down, trying to cover as much of herself as possible.

The voices grew closer, her breath hot against the smooth stone. Shutting her eyes, she prayed that they wouldn't notice her. That would be the last thing she needed. Peeking her eyes open, she watched as two figures passed, nonchalantly talking to each other. One was tall, wearing a white dress shirt, a black tie hanging loosely. His hair was a shaggy black, falling into his face and scraping against his neck. He looked rather normal, if it hadn't been for the white medical mask that covered his mouth, and his piercing red eyes. Next to him was a man who made her blood run cold. A black hoodie covered him, gloves hiding his hands away. Chestnut hair fell over the navy mask, its intimidating look not doing any justice to the black pits that were his eyes... or lack of them. A strange black goo trickled down the mask, seeming to stain it.

Her heart rapidly thumped as she waited for them to walk out of sight before she made a break for the kitchen. Scrambling down the halls, she nearly collapsed with joy once she reached the staircase. Doing as Masky said, she entered the door to the right of it. It was a large, rather decorative kitchen. It seemed as if there was a door leading to a freezer, and yet another to a pantry. They must need quite a lot of space for all of the food that was needed. Walking to the small table in the center, she saw the note that the Slenderman had left.

Her throat went dry. How many people lived here? As her eyes raked over the note, she realized there had to be over twenty. Twenty monsters in one house, and she, a meager human, was wandering amongst them. Trying to remain calm, she started on the list. It was going to take forever to get all of the food ready. Pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon. Not to mention the rather odd items on the list. That mainly being keyed to the organs. A note was scribbled beside it, listing the options and where they would be.

Slumping back against the refrigerator, Harper covered her face with her hand. She wasn't going to be able to do this. Every day she would have to, and she knew good and well the list would grow for all she had to do. Pushing herself, she began to make the food, gathering the correct amount of plates and utensils as well. Seeing a door to the side, she peeked through the small crack, seeing a large dining room. That must be where she would set the food.

Like a hurricane she prepared the food, leaving the organs for last. Speeding from the kitchen to the dining room, she prepared it all, feeling like a mother in a way. A mother with a lot of children, that is. The organs hadn't been as bad as she thought. She found where they were stowed, all bagged and ready. Holding the bag above a plate, she let it slide down and settle, trying her best to ignore the blood that pooled beneath it.

Next to exhausted, she finished with a happy sigh. Hopefully this would appease Slenderman enough to convince the others not to kill her. Her aching hand begged for it, blood starting to leak through the bandage. Shutting her eyes, she wondered what she should do now? Wait for all of them to arrive? Her stomach curled at the thought of meeting them all at once. Four was enough in twenty-four hours. More than enough. But as if the world was playing a menacing trick, the kitchen door opened.

A figure entered, oblivious to her. Walking to the refrigerator door, they slung it open, pulling a water bottle out. But when their lidless eyes met hers, the bottle nearly slipped from their hand.

A horrific smile stretched across their face-even though it had already been smiling to start with.

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