The Analyzing of Ticci Toby by Timothy Wright

Entry #5

My name is Timothy Wright, otherwise known as Masky. This is the fifth entry in my analysis of the individual known as Tobias Erin Rogers, aka Ticci Toby.

I don't particularly enjoy writing this down. Truth be told, it makes my throat run dry just forming the letters on the page. I feel as if I'm swallowing bile and my stomach is weighed down by bricks. But, it must be included.

Toby began having terrifying episodes two weeks ago today and it has set everyone in the house on edge. It's eerily quiet all the time now, something not very common even if we're a house full of serial killers. BEN's games, LJ and Jeff's laugh, Sally's giggling and tiny footsteps, etc. It was always some kind of noisy here.

Now, everyone was on their best behavior. Quiet and listening, as if preparing for the next outbreak of panic from Toby. It got worse when he fully broke down a few days ago.

Nobody is scared of him. I feel I have to make sure all who read this are aware of that. Scared of what he does, maybe. But, we've all done messed up things and we don't fear them. As such, we have - most of us, anyway - been helping out in little ways.

For instance, Sally helps him the most when it comes to effort. Sally had been staying up every night the past few weeks to calm him to sleep. She tells him stories, runs her fingers through his hair, and stays with him until he is perfectly asleep. She wouldn't sleep until he was practically dead with how heavily he relaxed against her lap.

I didn't want to say anything to her, but I saw her crying last night. Heavy, bloody, and heartbreaking tears. I knew then she was feeling the same pain Toby was. She was the most loving and caring of us all.

EJ was helping too, something I hadn't noticed at first. Delivering tiny and safe, meaning nowhere near LJ's own, candies to brighten his worst moods. He was even offering to stay with Toby the entire night, going so far as to suggest not wearing his ear plugs so he would be awake to help Toby after his nightmares.

Of course, Toby had refused. I didn't miss the way his eyes shot to me briefly. His stutter had come in ten fold, his tone rushed as he fought to get the sentence out quickly. I know EJ was suspicious the minute I left the living room to retire for bed, his masked eyes locked on me. As a fellow mask wearer, I knew better than most how to determine what was behind one. I just hoped Toby hadn't mentioned my staying awake, especially since I didn't wish to be kept awake even more by questions.

Jeff took him into town the other day and it was the first time he'd laughed or looked relaxed in days. They'd slaughtered a family of five that had been planning a trip into the forest. Toby had immediately been ready to go and had no protests about letting Jeff pick how they died. That's how you know he's feeling the unease too.

Even BEN is helping out. Sharing his video games and playing with Toby anytime he wished to do so. Even skipping a meal or two so he could continue playing with the other. It's always bright in the morning when the sounds of electronics and bangs come from the drowned boy's room, rousing most of us when we naturally awoke and removed our earplugs, myself not included. It made Toby feel more inclined to talk after a few games, so nobody minded to hear loud noises just after they'd been asleep.

I still can't move past wanting to awake when he does, to suffer the same way he does. To let him know I'm awake and that I'm there. I stay in my bed, gasping at first from the surprise that always gets at me, and listen to his screams down the halls. It took me a few times, but I knew by now he mostly screamed while he was asleep and eventually quieted when he properly awoke.

This morning, I was already downstairs, very much enjoying the dark and the quiet of the four o'clock hour, when Toby joined me in the kitchen. We left only one light on, as to not alert anyone wandering around that we were awake as well, and sat together at the table with two cups of coffee.

He wasn't surprised to find me, not that I expected him to be. I asked him why he refused EJ's offer, and, in return, he asked why I didn't wear the ear plugs. He already knew the answer, but it confirmed my suspicions he was still wary of me, or anyone, caring for him. I rephrased my previous answer. It went something like this:

I can't sleep well when someone I care for is suffering just a few doors down. I'm not a monster, and neither are you, Toby.

He answered my question then, mentioning he felt guilty that I was suffering for his nightmares just as he was. I knew this, as previously stated in entry one, but I was still taken aback to hear him admit it. He didn't want EJ to suffer like we were. Even if my suffering were voluntary and his would be as well.

Before I could stop myself, I did something idiotic. I offered the same as EJ, assuming Toby wouldn't be completely against it since I was already staying awake for him anyway. He never answered, and I didn't ask again.

We finished our coffee in silence, a comfortable one, and then retired to our separate rooms. Toby, probably to continue freaking out over whatever it was plaguing him, and myself to finish reviewing documents as instructed by Slenderman. I wasn't planning to continue writing today, tonight rather, even if I miss it sometimes. Writing it all out makes my mind not feel as cluttered anymore. Like arranging a bookshelf alphabetically. It makes it more comforting to the aesthetic of what's around when I'm trying to focus.

But, that's not why I'm writing at all right now. Well, maybe just a bit. The main reason is that Slenderman must be snooping through my entries again. It's not surprising, given who he is, but it was surprising to find what I did left amongst the papers.

Documents of Tobias Erin Rogers, aka Ticci Toby, and his stay at various hospitals, including the most recent mental hospital official documentation of his stay. There were three voice recorders as well, left in a plastic bag with a case of ear phones to hook into it.

I guess I'm writing this because I can't decide if I want to listen and read them, or not. I know if they were mine, I definitely wouldn't want them read. I'd want them burned, destroyed, and erased from existence.

However, from the analysis standpoint, I should read them and listen to the tapes. To better understand him, I should be open to any resources that would aid my research. It would give me a look into how other people see him, how he sees himself and exactly what he went through to get to where he is.

I've put them away, for now. As soon as I saw the name and connected the dots, I locked it all up inside my closet on the top shelf. I can't say I'm not curious, really curious.

I'm sure I'd know a lot of it. The abuse, the accidents, the disorders, etc. I know who Toby is as more than a kid with disorders, so I can't help but feel reading and listening to them will show me things as they really are.

As for now, I think I should concluded this entry. Sally and Toby have just gone into his room, judging from their voices down the hall, and I should sleep now before he awakes and I don't sleep at all.

~~~~~

Dang it's been a hot minute. Truth be told, I've had this ready for so long, but I didn't want to post it. I'm still sort of hesitant, but I can't grow if I don't post it. Thank you for reading and, if you feel up to it, please answer the following question.

If you were in Masky's position of reading or not reading documents of someone like Toby, would you or would you not do it? I can see both sides. Wanting to understand him makes it a good idea to read it, but trust from your friend makes it a bad idea. Share your thoughts please!