The Analyzing of Ticci Toby by Timothy Wright

Entry #12

I swear to all that is holy, Tobias Rogers is the most stubborn little shit to have ever walked the shithole of an Earth. He can be so fucking prickly and assholeish sometimes! Fuck waiting until I'm unbiased, I'm always biased.

Two days ago, the little shit in question got his arm declared fit to use. Of course, he was under specific instructions to take it easy. No unnecessary strain, and only one hatchet was authorized. Ann knew as well as I did when she gave him those orders that it was never gonna happen. Toby had been having a hard time getting his jobs done without one arm, but he couldn't just sit here in bed. Slender would see him as useless quicker than anything else. Kate, Brian, or I always chaperoned.

Nurse Ann is our medical expert for a reason. Nobody has the medical training, nor the ability to handle responsibility the way she does. Her face can be comforting, twisted up into a soft smile as she sets your broken limb, or detached, a serious and cold expression as she stitches you back together piece by piece, effortlessly.

And, well, Jack has a close match in terms of the reverse use of anatomy training. He carves away skin easily, more comfortable holding a scalpel than I'm comfortable with, and knows exactly where to stab to kill you. His eyes, metaphorically speaking, can pinpoint your vital organs like an uptight mother locating a stain on her child's shirt. Injuries are unavoidable when it comes to Jack, and death looms around him like a forcefield. He'd make a great doctor, if he ever moved past the cannibal inside him.

Nevertheless, I trusted him and Ann to fix everyone up when injured, myself and Toby included.

So, when EJ burst through the door at two in the morning, drenched in rain, blood, and other fluid I probably didn't want to know about, all tied together with an unconscious Toby between his side and the door frame, I went screaming for Ann.

EJ had yelled for Kate first, so she'd been down the stairs, and at their side when I emerged around the corner, and peered down at them. It was shock, maybe, that made me freeze, but it didn't last long. I was yelling before I really understood what was happening, and Ann was running into view from her room below.

Now that I think about it, she must have been terrified too. Ann had run out, night clothes still present, crumpled from what sleep she had gotten. After yelling at us to get him into the bathroom, she'd disappeared back into her room in a hurry. Anyone would expect her to change, but, other than adding an apron, and her satchel kit, she remained unchanged.

It's blurry from there, a flash of moments, and screaming, and blood. I know we dragged him into the bathroom, the three of us have in shock, and got him into the tub before Kate pushed us aside and grabbed at his jacket. I didn't realise it then, but she was looking for his mark. If it was damaged...

Of course, Kate knew where it was. Her pale, almost white, hands smeared the blood away from the spot on his hips, pulling his jeans down the slightest bit, and let her shoulders drop in relief. EJ had leaned over, and swallowed hard before speaking that it was intact. I knew then what it was, and I know we were all more relieved knowing he wasn't in danger of dying and staying dead.

Ann came back after that, pushing Kate and I aside.I'd felt white hot anger coursing through me, and had to stop myself from snapping at her. She was trying to help, but I was too consumed by the horrifying sight to care.

She began ripping through some of his clothes with a small knife to access the damages. Jack helped, scalpel appearing from somewhere I hadn't seen, and I could hear them ripping his sweater apart. I still can.

Kate and I got towels, fetched tools, wet sponges, and tried not to throw up. We, the two of us, were left to our own minds far too much in those...three hours? We had to wonder what happened. It wasn't like Toby was incompetent. Someone, or something, had done this, had gotten the better of him. So close to the last injury, Kate assumed it was a targeted advance, a fair assumption. With everything going on, it's fair to assume someone was watching...waiting. It makes me sick. Angry.

It was hard, is hard. I still see the blood painting the tiles in the bathroom, the small splatters on my hands. I can feel Kate hugging me, shaking with fear and rage. She left crescent shaped marks on my arms and hands, bruises on my shins when I had to hold her back while Ann continued to work.

After a while, it was quiet. Ann and Jack moved him into Ann's room, having stitched and bandaged him up the best they could for now. Jeff had joined us downstairs at some point during the process. He cleaned the bathroom. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Kate, Jack, and I agreed to take shifts watching over Toby, all of us too worried to really stay away for too long. Mine just ended and, predictably, I'm writing here in a futile attempt to keep myself from storming back down there and sitting with Jack.

Not that I want to sit with Jack. He and I have hit a rough patch again. I owe him an apology sometime later today.

In my defense, it was really odd for Jack to have come back with Toby. Their jobs had them completely across a state from each other. For Jack to show up in the middle of the night with him like that, we had questions.

I let my anger get the best of me, and so did Kate. We were scared, and worried, so angry that this could have been the end. We just wanted someone to blame. EJ had just been the one in front of us.

To his credit, he remained calm, calmer than we would have been after being questioned in our best friend's attempted murder. He answered our questions with ease, despite shifting uncomfortably.

He'd been stalking his prey, who had moved into the territory Toby was in. The woman had found Toby herself, and was quickly silenced by EJ and left there, kidneys and all. After that, Jack had dragged him home, half conscious and bloody through miles of pouring rain and darkness.

I...I can't imagine what it must have been like. EJ didn't know if Toby would be okay, didn't have time to search for his mark and see if he would live. He'd endured the travel, the blood, the fear, and had burst through the door, only to immediately go into a barebones equivalent to surgery in our bathroom.

I can't breathe anymore. I feel sick, and terrified. My chest is tight, and my eyes are stinging. I've calmed down considerably, but I can't stop shaking.

I was so scared for Toby. I didn't even care that I'd forgone my mask the entire time. I didn't care that I had more to analyze now. I just wanted him to be okay.

It's one thing to have a broken arm. Toby is reckless, and accidents happen when he's not careful with how he moves. But, this...This is different. Someone tried to kill him if Kate is right. They could come back.

I care about him too much.

I can't think.

Art below by ob1iviousc1own on AO3

Thank you for your patience!!! The past month and a half have been very hectic. I graduated high school, turned 18, and this past week I was on a trip to Florida.

Also, how about that incredible fanart of Entry #6?! I'm dying!!!

I legit started to cry when I saw it. Thank you again to the creator!

I hope you all enjoyed.

For clarification, Toby's mark is on his inner right hip. Tim will speak on this soon, but I wanted to go ahead and state where it was.