The Turners: The Rise Of Slenderman (Season 1) [COMPLETED]

episode 3 - one drink won't hurt a fly (3)

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"Wake up."

Sly opened his eyes but remained frozen on his bed. Pain ran through his body. Trying to sit up, he groaned until he positioned himself on the edge of the bed. Rubbing his aching eyes, he wondered, "What happened?" The last thing he recalled was him entering his apartment feeling sick and fainting in the bathroom. After that there was a huge blank in his mind, like a loss of time. 

But the weird thing was, other than his body hurting, his thoughts were as clear as the sky without its stars. It had been a while since he felt that way, and a part of him was grateful. 

His phone buzzed from the desk beside his bed. Picking it up, he found fifteen messages and ten missed calls. All from the same guy, Anton. He had been asking Sly for months if he was free to review his new show, Players' Club. It was about a group of male escorts and how their jobs affected their lives and families. 

Sly had asked him for sometime before he decided if he wanted to do it or not. But Anton wasn't a patient man.

Scratching his belly, he got up and left for the bathroom. Opening the door, the smell of iron reeked from inside. He turned on the lights and spotted a reddish-brown color on his hands. "What the...?" Confused, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror and saw dirt on his face and the worst thing ever... scratch marks on his chest. "What did I do?"

After watching too many documentaries about how the mind protected someone from a tragic event by hiding detailed memories, Sly became terrified of what he may have done. 

Drawing his hand to his chest, his index finger traced the five scratch marks one at a time. Sly looked hypnotized before he caught himself smiling. Looking away, he saw a small trail of blood. He followed it until he arrived at the bathtub. 

Inside the large container lay the body of a man. 

A dead man. 

He covered his mouth, preventing himself from screaming. If he was the one responsible, then he knew shouting was the wrong option. It was odd how calm and level headed he was in a situation which he always assumed he would overreact and cry for help.

Stepping closer to the tub, he got a proper look at the man. "You?" He recognized him from the club. He was the guy he got in a fight with. "This is bad. Really bad." Now there was motive and witnesses if he was caught with the dead body.    

He noticed something on the dead man's hands. Observing them, he saw what seemed like skin under his bloody nails. "Oh my god!" Sly tumbled backwards. It was the first time it truly hit him. He indeed did kill the man. 

Panic took control over him and he ran out of the bathroom. He entered his room, closed the door and paced back and forth. He had mixed emotions and questions running through his head. Fear corrupted his heart, making it pump faster than normal. And yet, his mind offered him calmness he never knew he needed.