Psychosis (Ticci Toby)

1

The Slender Man had given me yet another assignment. As I walked through the high pine tree forest and the smell of fresh pine needles invaded my nose, I felt wonderfully calm. Normally, my killings filled me with excitement, for I could now channel my anger once again, by mushing my victims flesh and bones with my hatchets. Preferably the older one. I have found that this one caused the most pain, because its blade hasn't been sharpened in ages now. It made me remember my first kill. It was messy, and I had little experience with killing. I'm not talking about dear old dad. I'm talking about my first kill as a proxy.

I had been under the Slender Man's guidance for only so long, and had almost immediately been given an assignment, much to the horror of Masky. Ugh.. Masky.. I hate that guy. Sometimes I just want to drive my hatchets through his skull, laughing as his brains flood from their place and his eyes roll back into his sockets, his body trembling as he eventually stiffens into rigor mortis.
But I'm drifting off. My first kill were a little boy and his family, I think he had been 8 or 9 or something. As I silently entered their house, I looked around to the photo frames at the mantle. The kid was adorable, but all I saw was a little prick that needed to be killed. I twitched and cursed my condition. I made my way upstairs, and I vaguely touched my hatchets, which were draped at my hips. By the time I was upstairs, I held them in my hands, feeling powerful as I turned one of them around in my hands, like tennisplayers sometimes do with their rackets. I walked into the little boy's room, expecting a silent and easy kill. He'd be asleep anyway. To my horror, and maybe my delight, I saw he was awake. It could be more fun like this, I thought. I walked into his room, and the little boy looked frightened at first, but then calmed down for some reason."Who are you?" he asked me. I didn't answer. As I stepped into the light, the slight glimmer of ny newer hatchet shone into the little boys eyes, and he was mortified. Now I responded. "Ah, d-don't be scared kid, Toby's here t-to help ya." The stupid stuttering which always invaded my voice angered me. And I stroke with my older hatchet, slamming it into his chest. It didn't cut through his flesh as well as I expected though, and the strike only caused a little flesh wound, but it still made the boy whimper. Frustrated I stroke again, wanting to strike in the same place, only it was slightly off, and the boy whimpered again, louder this time.
I placed my hand over his mouth. "shhh kid, you don't wanna wake mummy and daddy would ya now?" I asked him. He started to scream inside my hands. "You know I'd have to k-kill them too if you wake them right?"
The boy's eyes widened, and he stopped, only slightly sobbing now. "G-good boy" I smiled behind my mouth cap, twitching once again. I switched my hatchets up, so my newer hatchet was in my right hand, and was ready to make the final strike, when I heard the door creak open. "N-not a word" I hissed at the kid. "Terrance, are you okay?" I heard a feminine voice say. "Yeah mum, I'm fine." The boy answered shakily. The bitch must've sensed something was wrong, and got into the chamber anyway. "Shit" I whispered under my breath. I hunched, making myself as small as possible, I tightly held my hatchets, ready to attack. "Mum watch out!" The boy exclaimed. This caught me off guard, and I looked over at the boy for a second, the mother screamed, and I quickly killed her with my hatchets, not wanting her to alert any others. The boy was frozen into his place, and stared at me with an expression of utter horror plastered to his face. I approached him, and before he could react, I slammed my newer hatchet into his forehead, and as I saw his eyes roll back into his head I realised I wasn't satisfied yet. I started to gnaw at my covered hands, contemplating what I was doing next. I pulled my hatchet out of his skull and wiped it clean with the sleeves of my hoodie, blood pouring from the gape in his head. I started to look for other life sources. Soon, I found his dad, vast asleep on the bed he and his wife used to share.
I worked carfully, as not to wake up the man. I first bound his hands together, so he wouldn't be able to defend himself when I finally stroke. In the proces, I heard him whisper his wife's name silently. He must've thought it was her who straddled him. Very naughty, I thought.
After that I just waited silently, focusing on any sign that would imply he woke from his slumber. When he finally did, I grimached at him, even as I realised he couldn't see that anyway. He fought against his restraints, which I deemed adorable. Why do they always fight against it? Its not like they're gonna get loose anyway. I ran my fingers over the blade of one of my hatchets and looked over at the man.
"The t-things I could do to your body are amazing, I c-could slaughter you with my hatchets in s-seconds. But I won't." A look of relief washed over the man's face. "I wasn't finished yet, you p-prick, I am taking it slow this time." I placed my older hatchet in my right hand once again, and I began to pound it into the man's stomach. He screamed in agony, begging me to stop, but I didn't. It took me 10 hits to get through his flesh. He already looked weakened after the hits, and silently whimpered, panting as his blood flood out of his belly and onto the sheets. His organs already starting to leak out. "P-please, let me go" the man said. "I haven't had my fun yet" I just stated, grabbing his liver. "You won't be putting this to use now anyway, might as well throw them away huh?" The removal of the organ appearantly caused the man a great deal of pain, and I, feeling I had done quite enough, hit his kneecap with the handle of my hatchet, which broke with a sickening but to me most beautiful sound.
He looked up at me, eyes watered with pain, and whispered one last time "Please.."
I twitched, leaned in to his ear and whispered: "I don't care enough for you to let you go" and with those words, I gave my final strike into his neck, instantly killing him.
After that I laughed like a maniak, I actually scared myself a bit. But when I walked past the little boy's room, I felt a different emotion. Something I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt grief. i fell down on my knees and cried. Hard. I don't know where that came from. I just cried and pitied my entire existence, my purpose in life. I cried as I saw the blood on my hands, on the walls, and I couldn't stop.
After what seemed like forever, I stopped. I stood up and felt empty once again. Downstairs, when I stood at their door, I looked back. One last wave of grief washed over me, and I wanted to say "I'm sorry" but instead my voice formed the word "bastards". I turned, and then I walked away.

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