INTO THE WOODS (Masky x reader x Hoodie)

revamped part 6

"Once upon a fuckin' time, woman, I walked around without this sexy mask on all day and had a life. So did my partner here." Brian was being dramatic as ever with a cigarette lazily sat in the brim of his mouth. Tim looked so tired he could collapse within himself, his hands scrawled through his black hair. "But you know exactly why we can't walk around normally anymore."

"I really fuckin' don't," she said to the freakish man. "I thought you guys just like, robbed houses and killed people. I thought the names.. y'know.. 'Masky', or whatever, were just gang names. Or something." Tim looked at her with a concerned glance. "Let's just cut to the chase," he muttered. "Sam. Your boyfriend," he said with slight hesitation.
"He was a fuckin' kid, Jesus!" She replied.
"Wow, fucking pedo much?" Brian retaliated.
"He was not my fucking boyfriend. He was a kid I babysat. And now nobody remembers who he was." She felt her teeth grind. "And everyone thinks I'm fuckin' losing it, cause there's absolutely nothing left of him, just a shirt I doubt was his and some drawings."

Brian and Tim looked at each other. Tim sighed, and snatched the cigarette out of Brian's grasp.
"Have you seen him?" The air grew cold with the question that escaped Tim's lips. She said nothing but felt an immense chill crawl up her spine. "'Course she has," Brian said. "Breaking into houses, beating people half to death, hallucinating toddlers. She's met him, yeah. Might as well have shaken hands with the fuckin' guy."
"Are you talking about the man.. That guy I saw in the school?" She could tell by the way even Brian looked uncomfortable that she should give up the explanation. "Well the fuck am I supposed to do? And what does that have to do with you guys?"
"There's not much you can do," Tim responded. "We've been doing this for.. Well.."
"What he means to say is that we know how this works and there's no better way to say it. You're absolutely fucked," Brian interrupted.
"How am I fucked?" She asked in confusion.
"Have ya seen your fucking house (Y/N)? It's basically a giant fucking ashtray right now. Should've told mom to turn off the stove before bed." He nudged his companion on the shoulder but got no laugh out of him.  "Don't look glum. You can come back to our hotel. There's two twin beds, and I'm not sharing with big guy over there if you catch my drift-"
"We can help you, if that's what you want." Tim offered. His compassion made her sick to her stomach.
"And how exactly are you going to help me? By beating me to death in some abandoned building?" Tim's eyes shut down and silently observed the park table. She sat up from the  bench and began to walk away from the two. "Hey, forgetting something?"  Brian asked. She turned around and glared at him with a hint of confusion. "The fuckin' tape we drove you all the way over here to get?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"She's fucking GASLIGHTING US AGAIN!" He yelled in an abrasive tone. "She had it in her fucking jacket pocket! I literally saw you with it!"
"No you didn't." She said, walking away from the two.
"That girl is fucking messed up in the head," Brian said as he sat down with his arms crossed.

Tim stood up and walked past Brian. "Wait a second," he told the girl, grabbing her wrist. She pulled it away and shoved him. "I'll fuck you up!" She yelled. "Don't fucking touch me!" His eyes lit with an uncomfortable embarrassment that he forced to shake off. "We made an agreement, (Y/N). I know you don't think much of either of us, but you're no fucking better." He got closer to her face, close enough to feel his intimidation yet far enough to make it appropriate. "So do whatever you want with the tape. Me and him are already dead. But you?" He asked. He pulled away and smiled, clicking his tongue. "You have a nice rest of your day, (Y/N)." She continued to walk out of the park, ignoring the two.

She knew his bluff was as thick as his stupid ass sideburns. There was no way they were going to turn her in. How could they when she left no fingerprints in Ms. Bridge's house and she had an entire snuff film of the two? The odds were in her favor.

But that wouldn't make her life any easier.

The two men wouldn't allow it.

--

Since her house had burned down, she'd been staying in the county her grandfather lived in. Her grandmother died when she was young, she had very few memories left of her. Her grandfather was solemn and quiet, he tended to his garden and sipped coffee in the mornings. Her mother had survived the house fire but jumped out of a window to escape it. She was currently staying in the hospital.

She felt an empty guilt for not caring as much about her mother's injuries as she did. She assumed if the flashing images of murder and Sam weren't constantly replaying in her mind, she would feel immense emotional pain. At least she survived, she thought. If her mother hadn't survived, she would certainly feel something. Although standing over her mother as they talked, all of her mother's friends and colleagues, she felt that she had enough people to care about her anyway. Her mind was dead set on a more important mission. To find Sam. 

She'd resorted to drawing pictures of him to keep the memory of his face fresh. She wasn't the type to keep pictures on her phone or have a social media presence. She did search Mrs. Bridge's face book to check for pictures of Sam, although she doubted they'd be there- even if he was still present in her life. The memory of him was fresh, for certain. She'd been having nightmares about him. It was a recurring dream of the two walking into the woods as they used to. However when she turned to face him, he'd be gone, and an intense silence overwhelmed her body, like she was being eaten up by white noise.

Charcoal dusted her fingers as she drew in her book. She managed to draw him slightly better each time. "Who are you drawing?" Her grandfather asked with a cup of tea in his hands. She stared down at the sketchbook. "I don't.. really know." He silently eyeballed the many drawings she had of the young boy on the kitchen table and walked away, trying not to question anything. If nobody else remembered him, she was the one responsible for figuring out where he was.