Just thinking about his name makes me shiver. This isn't my story to tell, but after what happened to Her, I have no choice. I wish she was here to tell whoever is reading this about it all... but Henry took her away from us. I have become Her mouthpiece.
She has a friend in America. They'd been friends for almost a year by this point. They loved each other dearly, were always there for each other and creativity ran through both of their veins. She was a musician and He's an artist. He has guitars in the corner of his room but never touches them, not like Her. Instead He chooses to pick up paint brushes and use unconventional methods in what he creates. Paints, cotton wool and sometimes even blood. It's his art, from his mind, forged at his hand. It makes sense to have a part of him embedded between the layers of paint and canvas.
If you haven't already guessed, it was him who made Henry, as a present for her. They shared a love for the same music so She sent over some merch and He returned it with an original painting, and a drawing too. The drawing was what really captivated her and made her want to own one of these piece's that He had created. I guess now she has come to regret it. If I ever see her again in the beyond, I'll be sure to ask her... but this drawing was of a figure. It shined silver against the dark background, like a glowing angel standing in the midst of darkness. But that's not what she saw, as in Her eyes the figure was of horror and tragedy. She saw Slender Man, another dark creation she loved. But he is a story for another time. When she opened the package, seeing this silver figure of mystery in her hand, it made her happy. What else she saw made her happy too, before it took her away.
She was on video call to him when she opened them up. The package had been sat around for days at this point, as it was Christmas time and everything was busy on her end. Eventually she awoke and called him up an hour after she awoke one day, as that day was clear of anything and she could relax and spend some time with him on video call at last. So she went into the kitchen, got the biggest knife she could find, and sat on her bed to open the package. The knife glided through the sellotape effortlessly to reveal the two creations, breaking them free of their cardboard prison. Together they had travelled across the ocean from one artist to another. Bound against each other by tape but finally set free, ready to breathe new air and live a new life.
She focused on the smaller picture first, of the shining figure. Though simple it was still impressive and made her incredibly happy to finally own it. She sat adoring it for a minute, before placing it aside and setting her eyes upon the bigger picture for the first time; the surprise painting. It was of a young man with brown hair, wearing a grey t-shirt and again against a black background. It was like he had just popped into frame, looking at the observer with wide eyes and a wide smile. It made Her smile too. Then she noticed the detail, what was different, what was off about the picture. This teenage boy had his flesh ripped off in areas, exposing his muscle and his skull to whoever laid eyes on him. But still he smiled, maybe because he was so excited to be so visually different from everybody else. But she turned the painting around to Her friend on call, and asked him to name the teenage boy. He chose the name Henry, and it became emblazoned on her mind immediately. There was no way she could forget that stare, that smile or that name.
After the call ended she got up, put the pictures aside on her desk and went about her life. That night she went out with two of Her friends, and when she got home, she showed them both the pictures. She shared his name to one of them, and luckily Her friend escaped unharmed. Her friend is safe. For now.
Maybe it was this level of leaving Henry discarded that caused him to do what he did? She wanted to get a frame for Henry and display him, show him off to the world and whoever came to Her house. It was from Her friend, who she believes in, and she wanted to share it with everyone willing to look. But she never got the chance to get a frame. She wasn't quick enough. It was too late.
Three weeks after she set Henry and Slender Man free, she went to look at them again. She loved those paintings and cherished them dearly, but noticed something was wrong. Very wrong. Because Henry was gone. She rubbed her eyes, squinted, turned the canvas around so many times. But all that remained was the background, a mix of black and white paint, dabbed on the canvas with cotton wool. At the bottom, her friends blood still remained. She told him to put it in the painting and He did, so now she really has a piece of him with her. But what for? Maybe to protect her from his creation.
She went and told Her mother, "my painting has changed! Henry is missing!". Mother took one look at the canvas and noticed it too. She wasn't going mad. Henry really had disappeared. Mother thought it was odd, but dismissed the notion with a high level of disinterest. But she couldn't forget or ignore it however. She put the canvas back in her room and tried her best to ignore the mystery, but as much as she made an effort, it still lingered over her mind. She couldn't think or concentrate, and as the weeks went by, she couldn't eat or sleep either. Mother thought it was stupid and pointless, sleeping on the sofa because "somebody from a painting was missing". But it was real. As days filled with utter dread went by, she really started to wonder if Henry was real too.
One day she finally plucked up the courage and went back to her own room. It was late at night, and she checked every corner with the flashlight of her mobile phone. Behind every cupboard door, in every drawer and underneath her bed. Nothing every jumped out at her, nothing was different. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the empty canvas again. Maybe it was all in her head? She crawled into Her warm bed, snuggled up and began watching some videos on her phone. The room was covered in darkness again, and she slowly drifted off to sleep. It had been almost a month at this point, and she was finally getting a good night sleep. Free of fear and worry. She was cozy and happy at last, falling asleep with a smile.
It was also her last night alive.
When the dawn of the morning came, Mother knocked on Her bedroom door to wake her. Mother opened the door and saw her daughter fast asleep and thought nothing of it, that nothing had changed. But as the day grew from 9 AM to 2 PM, Mother knew something was wrong and went to check on her daughter. She was still asleep so Mother crept in slowly, trying not to wake Her up. She got closer and closer to the bed and put her arm out, then shook her daughter with her hand. Her body rolled over which caused Mother let out an ear piercing scream. Because Mother had found Henry.
He was laying in place of Mother's daughter. He was wearing the same grey t-shirt, the same brown hair; he also had the same wide eyes and smile. Except he was different this time. Not only was Henry here, in the flesh, but he was fixed. No longer were his muscles and skull exposed. Henry's skin covered what lied beneath, finally covering him and making him appear more acceptable behind that grin. But then Mother clocked on, realised what had happened. There was only one place Henry could have got that skin from.
Mother turned on her heels and let out another cry, this time accompanied by tears full of agony. Mother was left looking at the canvas before she collapsed to the floor, and this time it was no longer blank. Because in place of Henry was her daughter. Her eyes closed but her smile pure and honest; Mother couldn't tell if she was asleep or dead. But sure enough, as she laid inside the canvas, it was now Her skull and Her muscles that was exposed. She had replaced Henry in his two dimensional prison, and no amount of blood from her friend could ever have saved or protected her. She was stuck in a state of exposure and disfigurement forever.
Mother wanted to take Henry's body, cast it onto a fire and burn him to hell. She wanted to do the same to the canvas too. But she knew deep down that if she burned the canvas then she would well and truly lose her daughter. Forever.
