For The Kill- Ticci-Toby's Life as a Proxy

FOUR- AS A PROXY

The door opened. A built, medium-heightened man wearing a black-and-white mask and a champagne-colored jacket entered the room, followed by a man wearing an ugly brown hood and a black veil over his face. The veil had two red circles for eyes and a red frowning mouth.

 

"You asked for us, Master?" said the masked man-Masky. His voice was muffled by his mask, which was almost entirely white, except for the black almond-shaped ring around the eyeholes, black feminine lips and tiny, upside-down u-shaped eyebrows. I also noticed he had brown hair with sideburns. He looked older than me, maybe in his mid twenties. God only knew how old Hoodie was.

 

"I did," replied Slender Man, standing up. "Toby, this is Hoodie and Masky, my proxies. Hoodie and Masky, this is Toby Rodgers. He will be joining you both as my proxy."

 

Through the eyeholes, I saw Masky's brown eyes widen in shock. "Your proxy?!" he exclaimed. Wow, that hurt. Not really, but... you know what I mean.

 

Meanwhile, Hoodie seemed unfazed. Or maybe he was just as surprised as Masky, only I couldn't tell.

 

“A proxy, huh?” Hoodie said, sitting down in the chair next to me. “What’d he do?” Judging by the way Masky-who hadn’t moved from the doorway- crossed his arms across his chest, he was wondering the same thing.

 

Slender Man said nothing. I realized he wanted me to speak for myself when I noticed he was facing me.

 

“I, uh, k-killed my dad.” I stuttered. “These voices in my head told me to. So I-I did it.”

 

“You’ve only killed one person? And you’re making him a proxy?!” said Masky, first to me then Slender Man. Masky sounded positively outraged.

 

“Hey, now,” said Hoodie. “You’d successfully killed only one person when Master made you a proxy.”

 

“Hoodie’s right, Masky.” pointed out SM. “While you only succeeded in killing that Kralie boy, I saw quite a lot of potential in you. You were determined. You were insane. You were...a psychopath.”

 

“I was not!” argued Masky, who looked about five seconds from punching someone. I hoped that I wasn’t that someone.

 

SM held up a hand. “When I want feedback from either of you-” he gestured to Hoodie and Masky, “I’ll ask for it. As I was saying, you and Hoodie were amateurs in the field of killing. But I saw potential. So I took you in and made you what you are today. I see many similarities between you two and Toby. I’ve decided to train him to become one of you.”

 

SM let his words sink in for a few minutes. I decided that now would be the time to ask questions.

 

“Um, what do I do as a...Proxy?” I asked. The word had floated around like dust, but I had no clue what it actually meant.

 

“It’s quite simple, actually.” said SM. “I tell you to kill people, and you do it.”

 

I waited for him to go on, but SM was silent. “That’s it?”

 

“Pretty much.” replied Hoodie. “Only we get to choose how it’s done. Whether it’s by a house fire, faulty brakes, poisoning, et cetera. It’s kinda like being God, right Masky?”

 

“Right.”

 

“As long as you’re not seen and don’t leave DNA laying around, no one will ever suspect you.” Hoodie went on. He threw an arm around me and waved a hand across the horizon. Or at least, SM's desk. “Just think about it, Toby, you can get back at anyone who’s ever wronged you in life. You can rip out their organs right before their eyes. You can be their dying vision! You can inspire fear into millions! You can-”

 

“Thank you, Brian.” interrupted SM. Hoodie huffed, then quieted “So, now that you’ve heard what it’s like to be a proxy from a proxy, what do you say, Toby? I know I asked you earlier, but I want to ensure this is what you want.”

 

Hoodie and SM’s words replayed themselves over and over again in my head.Like I said earlier, I wasn’t a killer. I had only killed Dad, but I had good reason to. He had hurt Mom and Lyra, my sister, the only two people I loved, and didn’t give his actions a second thought. My father wasn’t there when Lyra had died at the hospital after the car accident. He was at the bottom of a bottle at the time, as always. He was nothing to me. He was the dirt under my feet.

 

The more I thought about it, the more appealing being a proxy seemed. I could get rid of all the kids who had made fun of me. I thought of every time they’d mocked me, mimicking my tics and giving me that damn nickname, ‘Ticci-Toby’. In turn, I could laugh at them as they slowly bled out.

“I’m in. When do I start?”