The Escapists

;Where;

Why did it do that? Why would it act so cruel? Had she lost her purpose? Did she get boring?

A lump formed inside her throat. A sob choked her but somehow she wasn't able to cry. She lost it; the ability to cry over her negative emotions, since she learned to mask it with happiness. However, she couldn't bring herself to be happy.

They would think she was crazy or maybe insane if they knew what temptation crossed her mind.

(Y/N) woke up in familiar sheets, immediately recognizing her own scent. The bed she slept in the cottage back in the entity's realm smelled like the forest and wood, giving it a oeaceful touch yo it. And she missed it. Gripping onto the sheets, she gritted her teeth and yearned for the old feeling.

Regret spread inside her like a disease. His name.
A bitter laugh left her dry throat as she stretched her mouth into a forced smile. It was everything that was left of Jake.

As soon as she raised up from her gloomy state by sitting up, something caught her attention. The hunting knife was the only prove there was about her ever being in a hypnagogic world.

Slowly, she held it up in front of her face, inspecting the engraved letters. Where FM the killer's initials?

A pout formed onto her lips. Her room was decorated with drawings of creatures; creatures she imagined in the depth of her consciousness; some of them resembled a few of the killers she encountered in those trials. Her dark curtains always hid the insight of her most private state from the outside world - just looking at her old habitat heightened the shame which constantly accompanied her.

Was she crazy for missing the unpleasant side-world? Just for being fond of the divergence? For longing social interaction, the rush, the adrenaline, and the risk? Or maybe it was just the nonexistence of consequences.

Whatever it was, it was better than here. Here, alone in her small gray apartment. Her hands glided down her ever so closed curtains, slowly pushing them a bit aside. Her tired eyes recognized the street outside, every other house, every sign, and every street light. No one walked outside as the clouds became heavier in shade, the blowing wind clearly audible even inside.

But even if she saw someone daring to spend their time in the outside world right now, (Y/N) wouldn't be able to identify them. No one of her neighbors was more than just a face; however, she couldn't even distinguish any of them, not even the people living over her.

Right now her mind ached for communication, preferable with Jake. He would listen to her silently while she rambled about everything that crossed her mind, but of course only after she put it through a filter. Some things were just not qualified to be put out in the world for everyone to hear - especially not for Jake, who in response could react with distaste towards the young female.

That was the error in her own handcrafted logic with plotholes like only a sponge could have: the yearning for contact but self-isolation. Neither of those did the (H/C) haired wanted to change. As troublesome as it was, remaining that obscure mindset of herself seemed easier.

His hands itched after something to hold on, however, there was nothing that could replace his desired object. He himself didn't understand why he put so much value onto something so small and something that clearly could be taken away.

But it had his name on it and he was obligated to protect everything that existed under his possession. His mask was tilted over his head, always palpable, while he himself sat on a branch on one of the many pine trees, observing a (H/C) haired, obviously younger than him, girl. Her fingers were curled around a biro, scribbling down words he couldn't pinpoint with handwriting he couldn't determine, but he imagined it to be somewhat girly. The context of her calligraphy was unknown just like the reasoning for her decision to do something this normal in the depths of a forest.

It wasn't the woods of the entity; there were no invincible barriers, no stalking the survivors a bit farther away, neither had it the same caution a trial gave you. It was a whole lot different.

The trees seemed to grow higher and farther away from each other, creating a lot of open spaces. No voices cut through the air, just the sounds of birds and movement of small animals. The light came through the trees much easier, making every angle of the forest look bright, with no gloomy corners. And of course, it was just him and her.

It didn't sit right with him that there was nothing else happening. The reticence became too empty to him, no substance filled his thoughts. Maybe she could change that? The entity sent him to track her down and retrieve his knife back, but he needed to be sure where it was to make a move. Perhaps he could introduce himself to her and disguise himself as someone else. Someone she wouldn't connect to the trials games.

There was no possibility of her associating him with a killer. 'Cause that was just what he was, right? And he greatly took on the task of pursuing her into developing a different image of him than whatever he saw in himself.