Behind closed doors

Chapter 1

Jeff glanced up at the tall, slim man next to him. He had no features, his head the perfect porcelain image that artists would long for to begin their work. But due to this curse, he had no mouth this which to speak. Yet if you were branded, chosen personally by the cursed, then his thoughts were yours to read when he so wished. He could see inside the young ones mind and didn't like what he saw. Time was taking its toll. Mindless, cruel pretences that were worn for the 'job' were easy to put on; but were getting ever harder to remove. Being so young, barely past his twentieth year, Jeff was struggling.

Take off the act, Jeffery, the others are waiting...

The boy took a breath, and finally the blade was released, still standing erect within the wood, "Yeah yeah, I know." He shook himself and donned a cocky smirk, "Come on, Slendy it's me we're taking about here! I'm always alright after a sit down," he caught sight of his clothes and shrugged, "and a shower."

You need to work on your composure...

"Will do, well, like you said the others are waiting!" Jeff rushed, backing towards the door eagerly, just glad to finally be home again, "So this means I'm off duty for the rest of the week, right?"

That depends...

"On?"

Depending...

"To the point as always, Slendy, much appreciated."

Jeff, priding himself on even daring to be sarcastic towards his mentor, picked that moment to dart from the room and down the corridor towards his room. The damp patches on his clothes felt oddly cooling against his skin. He enjoyed it. It wasn't part of his public character that he'd accidentally adopted, it was a fact. When it started to dry there was an odd texture to it that when against skin, just made him feel at home. But only for a little while. If it was too wet, or dried too much, then it was just plain gross.

Upon entering his room, the patches were just getting to the disgusting stages and he happily stepped into the shower. The heat stung at his scars, but he didn't mind. They didn't hurt. For he felt there was a difference between a hurt and a sting; stings were signs of feeling, pain was just annoying. Minutes later he emerged and dressed in his favourite white hoodie and an old pair of jeans before opening his laptop and loading up the A.I site: Cleverbot.

User: Haunted Majora's Mask

Cleverbot: BEN.

User: what happened to BEN?

Cleverbot: He drowned.

User: Well tell him to suck it up, grab a towel and get his ass over here now, I'm bored as hell.

He barely had time to finish typing his last statement before he felt a chill behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of the familiar translucent figure of what looked like a Link cosplayer hovering lazily in the air with a wry smile quirking his lips, eyes alight with sarcasm within the charred black remains.

"Well since you asked so fucking nicely." The spectre commented, smacking the breather on the back of the head.

"Fuck you." He returned, closing the computer.

"Whatever, how was tonight's special guests?" Ben asked, rolling his eyes.

Jeff shrugged, "Same old. This time it was some stoner who'd been giving his family some shit over the past few years."

"Wow, great story..."

"Hell I wasn't listening to what Slendy told me! Makes no difference to any of us if he stole a candy-bar from his kid or gave his wife a broken rib, it all ends the same way for them."