Hold On To Me

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Little Nightmares franchise. All rights belong to Tarsier Studios.

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He often found himself thinking about his old life before the signals. Television was the hot new trend on the market, and people were waiting in long lines to buy one. His parents had gotten one too. He was excited because they had told him that he could watch cartoons whenever he wanted at home, instead of having to go to a cinema to sit through a flicker. It became the thing that everyone absolutely had to have.

But when it was plugged in and brought to life, nothing but static filtered through.

He had tried telling his parents about it, but they didn't believe him. Somehow, they saw something different on the screen than the snowy texture occupying the frame. They laughed and gasped at it, as if someone said or did something on the screen that would elicit that sort of reaction. His father had stopped reading the paper, explaining he got all the news from the TV. But only faint sounds of whispering and an eerie song could be heard.

Before long, his parents did nothing but attempt to spend every waking moment in front of that white square of static. He could tell that something was inside of it, watching him, staring at him hungrily. It was scary. He tried telling his parents about the thing in the TV, but they called him crazy. He gave up trying after that.

Day by day, that electric box became more important than him. His parents would often forget to feed him, and they would yell at him if he stood in front of it, blocking their view. He found himself taking care of himself these days. They didn't seem to care if he went to school or not. So, he stopped going. He hated that place anyway.

The sun came out less. It rained more. Everything turned bleary and grim. He saw children running through the city streets from his apartment window. He could hear the thud of bodies smacking on the ground from the roof. And, of course, the ever humming TV. The sound always grated on his ears. He tried to find as many ways to stay out of the house as possible. A part of him longed for old days, before this simple, hunk of junk took away his parent's warmth and affection. He could always feel the thing inside it watching.

One day, he had had enough. Screaming in frustrated rage, he took up the remote and threw it towards the screen. The static popped out of existence, leaving the remote sticking out of the busted sparking screen. A deep growl sounded behind him. It was menacing. He turned around only to find the horror of what his parents used to be.

He had never noticed what the static was doing to them. His beautiful mother's face was twisted and warped, his father's striking features distorted in the same way. The nauseating clicking from them sounded out in rage. Any semblance of them had been taken by the TV.

That was the first time he slept out on the rainy streets instead of in his warm bed. He found dirty clothes that were less visible. Any adult who spotted him would give chase, their haunting features etched into his dreams. It became easier to wear a disguise, but it didn't help all the time.

He wasn't the only child in this predicament, he was aware. He met others like him, some friendly and some not. All the more reason to hide his face. He had traversed through his old school, hearing that it was turned into a makeshift safe haven. When he got there, however, the building had already been set ablaze. Children were plucked up one by one, like picking vegetables in a garden. He narrowly avoided meeting the same fate.

How he got to the Wilderness from there was a blur. He just knew that the city wasn't safe anymore. The wild animals that inhabited the forest made it necessary to gain respite in the branches of trees. He tried to survive as best as he could. His dreams started haunting him with a long corridor with a door at the end, an eye carved into it. He knew it had something to do with the strange tower that appeared in the center of the city, its beacon blinking gently in the distant sky. He knew that it had something to do with all of this. It took his parents. It forced him to live a life of constantly looking over his shoulder. It was the reason why he was always alone.

He didn't know why he decided to rescue that strange girl from the Hunter's basement. Maybe, he thought, he was just lonely, hoping to make a friend who wouldn't die or hate him. Her distrustful nature was understandable. Who knows what kind of horrors she had endured? They were no different in that regard. But they had to rely on each other if they were going to survive. He needed her, as much as she needed him. She told him she could guide him safely to the Signal Tower.

Mono had the urge to chuckle darkly to himself, but it died. The Tower was only luring him like a rat to a trap, his older self trying to end the cycle it had created. It failed, like it always did, and the beast got what it wanted, in the end. The rough ropes binding him to this stiff chair was a constant reminder of that.

"Something on your mind?" A playful voice sounded next to him, a familiar one. He didn't lift his head to look, but he knew the shape of his only friend. Her yellow raincoat stood out starkly against the gray walls. He knew that it was just an illusion created by the Tower. It had been happening more often lately. It was mostly just the Thin Man who appeared in his prison, telling him how useless his efforts were in the grand scheme of things. As if he didn't already know. But, occasionally, he would be blessed (or cursed, depending on how you looked at it) by an imitation of Six. The copy only talked to him, and he didn't know if it was supposed to make him feel better or worse. Definitely better than being alone.

Emotions welled in his throat, nearly making him choke. If anything, this illusion was meant to do nothing more than to remind him of what he had lost. "I just..." his breath hitched. "I just wish you were here." He did his best to hold back tears, but they still gathered anyways.

The copy scoffed. "I am here, silly." She waved her hand in front of his face as if to prove this. He still didn't acknowledge her. He shook his head. "No," he argued, voice shaking. "I mean, really here. If you were actually here, you would have saved me instead of sitting there."

Not-Six smirked at him. "Why can't you just do it yourself?

Mono blinked. "I can't-"

"Exactly." It was spoken like a known fact. The sharpness of it made him flinch. "But that's okay," the illusion continued, softer this time. "You tried your best and that's all that matters. Not all of us can be heroes in this world."

The broken boy couldn't hold back his sobs anymore. "I... I-I just..." His chest heaved and strained against the rope, taking in huge breaths. "I miss you. So much." The copy immediately moved to encircle him in an embrace, quietly whispering soothing words to him, that she was here and there was nothing to be sad about. The knowledge that it was all a lie made him cry harder. He fell asleep to the feeling of ghostly fingers gently running themselves through his hair.

When he awoke, he was alone once more.

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Author's Note: I have no idea if Six and Mono were born before or after the Signal appeared, but I know that the setting in the game resembles 1950s urban lifestyles, when the television was released to the public, and it soon turned from a luxury item into a household necessity. Basically, every living space had one, if you could afford it. It was extremely popular.

I've gotten hired for my new job (wanted to get one last year, but quarantine) and I start orientation tomorrow. Both exciting and nerve-wracking.

Praise is appreciated and constructive criticism is encouraged.

See you next time!

-The_Mayflower