I spent the rest of Friday waiting by the phone. I knew it would only be a matter of time before I got a call from Leslie's parents explaining that she was gone. The call never did come that night. Once midnight rolled around, I decided to get some sleep. I crawled into bed and curled up under the covers. Though the Slender Man didn't disturb me that night, he was there. It was around three in the morning when I woke up again. My shoulder was in a lot of pain, and I wanted some Vicadin. I went to get up and noticed he was standing at the end of my bed. I stared at him and he stared back at me with his eyeless sockets. I knew he was only there to mock me. He never moved any closer. Still, I dared not take my chances to get out of bed to ease my pain.
As I expected, the phone rang early Saturday morning. My mom's shocked voice broke the relaxed morning atmosphere. She got up from the breakfast table and went to her room to talk. She was in there for over two hours. She emerged with a grieved expression on her face.
"That was Yvette, Leslie's mom," she stated numbly. "Apparently, Leslie never made it home Friday. Jeff stopped to get gas on the way back to Canton. He went inside to pay, and when he returned, Leslie was gone. Jeff and the police looked for her, but she was nowhere to be found. She just disappeared."
My dad and I said nothing. We sat there in silence, my parents stunned and I depressed as ever. It was very possible that I would die that night. I knew that they would never find Leslie. I knew that the Slender Man had killed her. It wouldn't be long before he came after me.
I got up without a word and left the house. I ran to the very forests where I had days before been caused so much pain. I followed the trail and stumbled along aimlessly, wanting only to escape society. I looked ahead and saw something metallic glinting in the sunlight. I walked toward it and found my knife stuck to a tree, a note pinned underneath it. There was a picture of the Slender Man standing over a blood-covered victim with crude trees drawn around them. I removed my knife and crumpled up the note, chunking it as far as I could throw it.
I looked where the paper had landed and saw the Slender Man standing a few yards away. I turned back toward home and ran, my knife clutched tight in my hand. I knew how I could beat him. I knew what I must do.
If you are reading this, it is likely that I am already dead. I took my knife and slit my wrists, letting myself bleed out. I hope the Slender Man watched me die. I hope it made him angry. I know what most of you are probably thinking. Why would I kill myself when I tried for so long to stay alive? I have an answer, though some of you will disagree with my logic. I was going to die anyway. I had already lost my friend to the Slender Man. I wanted to prove to him that he didn't have all the power. I wanted to use the last of my resolve to prove a point. And most importantly, I refused to be killed by him. I would rather die by my own hand than at the hands of a monster.