Dearth // Masky X Reader X Hoodie

(X) Chapter 11 (X)

WARNING: LOTS OF CUSSING UP AHEAD

(F/n) = Fake name.

(Since I had some spare time on my hands, I decided to use it on this. I really wanted to stick to their murderous sides despite my intentions on adding in some comedy and fluff.)

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Your POV

"For fuck's sake! I don't know! Toby hit his head against the wall and that's the reason why he was unconscious. Had to carry him myself here, so I deserve some goddamn respect!" you huffed at the two. Excluding what was now happening, you were finally feeling refreshed after having used the shower in Sally's bedroom- Masky and Hoodie won't permit you to use theirs, you didn't even ask to know. Like you'd mentally noted to your self before, from having spent a few days in this mansion, already did you know their individual, dissimilar yet in another sense similar, answers.

"None of that properly explains as to why we found you asleep on the couch covered in blood- drenched in it," Masky pointed out, settling further back into the sofa. His elbow resting upon the furniture's arm, his head leaning a bit to the side for his mask's cheek to be comfortably placed onto his hand. He was watching Sally (her name you had eventually come to know of. You weren't fond of children, yet she was an exception) uninterestedly change channel after channel; nothing appeared to catch her attention. "Which means there's more to it than just that; you're definitely hiding something."

"When was there ever a time she wasn't hiding something? She could be one of Zalgo's spies for all we know. Plus,"

You automatically felt uneasy when Hoodie, who was in the same laid-back state as Masky but on your left, spoke of your acquaintance's name. What he said next made your intestines tie themselves into a knot.

"I thought Toby told us about him getting K.O'd by a damn table. Or am I perhaps mistaken, (F/n)?"

You gulped, 'The direction this conversation's heading in... can get me into deep, messed up shit.'

A large fake smile plastered itself across the lower, visible section of your face. "Oh, silly me! A slip of the tongue!" You forced a laugh. But neither of the boys seemed to loosen up, not like you expected them on planning to simply hug you and stop with the interrogation- wait what? '(Y/N), calm your shit, the tension's pushing you off your rocker!'

"-a massive massacre had taken place the late evening before at the 'Grand Thicket Hotel'. The place was a gruesome bloodbath; corpses were everywhere, their stomach's were ripped open without mercy. So much innocent blood has been spilled and the police are still searching for clues for the ruthless cause of those people's lives. Not a single living person..."

"Sally, go ahead and change the channel," you said, "it was most likely Jeff." Your hands became clammy and your throat constricted. You knew that wasn't the actual case, though you still didn't want to believe it, even if all the facts were piling up; your hoody and jeans were coated with the liquid those victims had leaked, Zalgo had said something about how you wouldn't have full control of your mind what with him giving you more strength for the situation and you couldn't remember what happened at that time around. Also, since he did say about how you wouldn't have full control of your actions, in a way, that should denote you would've had some part of your brain to command... why were you unable to do a thing? Why can't you have a flash of remembrance?

"Mhm," replied sally.

"No, Sally. Don't change it," Masky told her. Sally raised a brow at him, but stayed silent nonetheless and turned to face the television again.