Nothin' Worse Than The Devil

Trust Issues

It's been a few weeks since I had my first interaction with him. I haven't seen him since the night he broke from the sanitarium... God how I can't stop thinking about it. I constantly feel as if I'm being watched, there's nights I wake up and swear I see a tall figure creeping in the corner. The sanitarium has encouraged any worker to stay home until further notice. Safety precautions I would assume.

You awoke from your sleep in a cold sweat. It's been happening almost every night since his escape. The night terrors seem to be getting worse every night he doesn't show. Something deep down inside tells you he won't be back. Rubbing your eyes, you dragged yourself out of bed hoping to find something appetizing in your fridge. Opening the door, you scanned inside the fridge. There seemed to still be the same food that was there a few hours ago. Not like more food would just magically appear in the fridge if you checked again later. As you were about to close the door, you swear you heard the floor creak from behind you. Whipping around, you were met with the expressionless mask from before. He gripped his hand around your mouth, holding his index finger up to his lips. You let out a muffled scream, startled by his presence. His grip on your mouth tightened, signaling for you to comply and which you did. Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth and stood up straight. You started to look him up and down, starting at the mask and going down. For some reason you thought you heard water dripping, but.. it was coming from him? After quick realization you noticed the large kitchen knife he was gripping in his hand, coated in thick blood. Slapping your hand to your mouth, you tried not to throw up. He smelled of death. Literally. He tilted his head, gripping his weapon tighter.

"Jesus Christ, can you please go take a shower." You blurted out without thinking.

He didn't seem to find that comment very pleasing. He tried to reach for your forearm but your fear took over and you quickly moved from his reach. You darted for the stairs, but he was quick to follow. Grabbing you by the foot, he dragged you back down the stairs, busting your chin on the stairs as you were pulled. He flipped you over aggressively and raised his knife in the air.

"Wait!" You pleaded.

He held his knife in the air hesitantly.

"I didn't mean it like that, I-I can clean your clothes for you. It's the least I can do." You breathed.

Processing what you said, he lowered his knife. He stepped over you and headed up the stairs, not bothering to help you up. You touched your chin, examined your fingertips and wasn't surprised to see blood. Angry, you huffed and pulled yourself up, heading upstairs. He sat on your bed, waiting for your assistance. You made a bee line to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and spare shampoo and conditioner. As you walked back out you threw the towel at his feet and threw the shampoo and conditioner on the bed.

"You know how to turn the shower on." You said angrily.

He grabbed the towel and the bottles gently and turned to you.

"Throw your jumpsuit out of the bathroom and I'll clean it. Just.. don't come out of the bathroom until I have it cleaned because I don't have any spare clothes for you."

He brushed past you, walking into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Silence overtook the room and then a few soft rummaging sounds. The door unlocked, and was cracked open slightly. The blue piece of clothing was thrown outside the door and once more he closed and locked the door. You let out a long exhale and grabbed the dirty jumpsuit, bringing it to the kitchen. Is it even the right thing to let him stay with you? I mean giving him a wrong look or not watching what you say could make him snap. This is gonna take a lot of time for you to gain his trust. Grabbing the bottle of proxied from under the kitchen sink, you started heavily drenching his jumpsuit in the liquid and watched the blood foam up. After a few minutes you rinsed it with hot water and threw it in the washing machine. You heard the upstairs shower turn off.

"Shit.. it still needs time to dry." You said in your head.

After a few minutes the upstairs bathroom door opened. Your eyes widened, you told him to stay in there.

"I told you to stay in the bathroom, it still needs to dry." You yelled up to him, not turning to look at him coming down the stairs.

Was he stupid, or just deaf?

"Michael its not ready-" You stopped.

You turned to him, and just stared. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his body was still dripping with water. You weren't surprised to see him wearing his mask, but god.. his body. For someone who was locked up in the sanitarium for years you didn't expect him to be so muscular. After you realized you were staring at his abs, you snapped back to reality.

"Uh-... y-your jumpsuit needs to be dried, just.. wait upstairs. Please." You stuttered.

He tilted his head slightly, but obeyed and walked back upstairs. After about an hour, the jumpsuit was clean and dried. Not a drop of blood was still stained on it. Hopefully this won't become a routine, you don't think you could get used to the smell of blood. You cleaned the kitchen knife he had brought to your house and hid it. You can't trust someone like him not to kill you in your sleep, but it wouldn't matter anyways knife or not he could kill you with his bare hands. You folded his jumpsuit into a neat square and headed up the stairs. You opened the door to your room and found him snooping through your drawers.

"What are you doing?" You said angrily.

He quickly pushed the drawers closed and turned around like nothing happened. You sighed and walked over to him, handing him his jumpsuit. He took his clothes to the bathroom and dressed himself. You looked over at the time and realized it was 4 in the morning.

"You can sleep on the couch downstairs. I don't want you snooping around my house at night when I'm not awake either."

He sighed and started to walk towards you. He grabbed your chin, examining the mark he made. You tried not breath, his presence alone scared you. He brushed his thumb over the mark and gently took his hand away from your face and walked downstairs. You closed your bedroom door and locked it. You didn't know what to think of him. Its like there's two of him, one calm and gentle and the other a murderous killing machine. You laid in bed, hoping you would wake up tomorrow.