Little Game - a Ticci Toby x Reader story

Chapter 17

I rise my arms to catch the knife, but at the same time, an image of my dad throwing a knife at me flashes through my mind, causing my body to freeze as a rush of panic overwhelms me. The knife falls to the ground, penetrating the soil and remains there, useless.

Toby stares at me, seemingly surprised. "[N-Name]? I thre i-it 'cuz I d-didn't felt like w-walking *tic*, not t-to hurt you." He comes over to me and I wake up from my trance. "W-what was that?"

"I'm sorry." I bow my head, feeling embarrassed. "I had a flashback."

Toby tilts his head in curiosity. "T-To *tic* what?"

"To my father, when he threw a knife at me." My voice trembles. Shit, I sound as weak and pathetic as I did on the first day I was here.

"O-Oh." Toby looks at me for a second. "H-Hey, let's t-take a break, y-you can talk about i-it if you w-want?"

I nod and he grabs my arm, a bit more gentle this time, and pulls me to a bench in the shadows.

"S-So, your f-father?" he asks, and I nod again.

"Yeah, the alcoholic type who likes to abuse his daughter." 

"Y-Yeah, I h-heard a b-bit of your s-story. M-Masky t-told us."

That damned Masky. Just spilling my personal stuff like that.

"Y-You know, y-your past is a b-bit like mine," Toby says, surprising me. "You h-had an abusive alcoholic f-father, w-was bullied at school, y-you were l-lonely. J-Just like me." He pauses, and looks at me. Then he takes of his mouth guard, hanging it around his neck. He also pulls his goggles to his forehead. I'm already used to to the gash in his cheek by now, but his gentle brown eyes still surprise me every time. He looks kind of... sad. "T-The only d-difference is tha-at *tic* I killed m-my dad." He sighs. "Although t-that's what I'm told. C-Can't remember a-anything." 

I frown. Yeah, it's a huge difference. He's a psycho and I'm not. But I remain silent. Apparently, Toby's opening up about himself. Plus, he seems like he genuinly wants to comfort me after he threw that knife.

I take a deep breath, finally calming down. I feel like an idiot, getting scared like that even while Toby didn't have any bad intentions. Apparently, dad gave me quite the trauma with his knife-throwing habit.

"S-So, y-your dad," Toby continues after a long silence. "Has h-he always b-been *tic* t-that way?" He looks a little hesitant, probably not sure whether I want to talk about it or not. But it's fine with me.

I shake my head. "He used to be normal. Until my mom disappeared." It's a bitter memory. We used to be a happy family full of love and laughter. My mom was a loving and caring person and my dad had a good sense of humor and was probably the friendliest man you could think of. But it all ended when my mom disappeared. "Then her body was found. Dead," I continue. "Then my dad started to drink and he became extremely agressive. Mainly towards me. So yeah, I was done with my life because of him and ran away, hoping to die. And now I'm here." I shrug my shoulders.

Toby remains silent for a minute. "I-It's n-not too late t-to kill him, y-you know?"

I feel a tiny bit of fear coming up. Last time we spoke about this, killing my dad, Toby flipped and went psycho. "I know," I warily reply. "Say, Toby?" I quickly try to change the subject. "What about your dad?"

"I-I can't remember," Toby shrugs. "Slender e-erased all my memories a-after I g-got here so it m-must be pretty b-bad, huh? I o-only know what *tic* others told m-me."

Oh.

An awkward silence follows, we both don't really know what to talk about anymore. So we just keep silent. The Toby rises from the bench and readjusts his mouth guard and goggles. Why does he wear them now, anyways? If you'd ask me, he looks just fine without them. Not in that way, but yeah.

"H-Hey, there's still s-some work l-left to do, s-so I suggest w-we continue? You don't w-want a m-mad Slenderman." He chuckles a little.

"Nope, don't wanna see that." I stand up as well. "Hey Toby, why the mouth guard?" I blurt out. Oops.

Toby looks at me. I can see the doubt written in his eyes, even through his orange goggles. Wrong question.

Then he takes off his gloves, revealing his hands. "T-To prevent me f-from doing *tic* t-this."

His hands look... awful. They are mangled, full of scars and bitmarks. So, not only he chewed a hole in his cheek, but he also used to chew on his hands? No the gloves and mouth guard makes sense.

"D-Damn anxiety," Toby mutters. All of a sudden, I feel really bad for Toby. I watch him as he puts his gloves back on. So he basically exposed pretty much of himself, which still surprises me. I kinda did the same thing, although I'm not as shocking as he is. Toby has no memories but many disorders, making him a ticking and twitchin being with terrible mood swings. Well, that's only the tip of the iceberg. It's way more complicated, I'm sure.

"H-Hey [Name]," Toby says, impatiently prodding a rake at my leg. "Stop s-spacing out already a-and help m-me to rake the l-leaves."

I grab the rake with a sheepish expression. As I follow Toby out of the shadow, into the yard, the heat litterally slams into me, making me feel sweaty the first second. I just try to pretend that I'm not bothered by it, just like Toby. He was right, I don't want to anger that Slenderman.