Can't Say

Chapter 5

            The weight of Toby's words hung heavy in your chest. To be honest, you had that tiny feeling that death would be your reward if you were to fail Slenderman's Proxy tests. Most of you had hoped that things would start to lighten up and everyone would turn in to the characters you had read about so long ago. Reality was sinking in fast. These Creepypastas were the real thing. They were scary, bloodthirsty people – creatures – who enjoyed watching humans suffer. They didn't mind using brutality to get their way, and you were no exception – save for the limits that Slenderman would allow.
            You decided to go back to your room. You wanted to hide away from everyone before you got into more trouble. Being theoretically burned alive was not something you wanted to experience again. Who knows what else you would have to deal with? For now, this was enough of an introduction to the rest of your life. Such a taste was bitter and mysterious. You had to get your thoughts together for a while.
            Tomorrow would be the true beginning of your new life, though. Tomorrow, the real pain would start.
            You managed to reach your bedroom door without meeting another Creepypasta or Proxy on the way. The serenity of not having to worry was quite pleasant. As you passed Masky's room, you did hear the steady beeping of his heart monitor. Temptation filled you. Curiosity craved the knowledge of what happened to him. You didn't particularly care about him, but you wanted to know exactly what he had gone through. He was one of Slenderman's Proxies, therefore, you would experience similar things to Masky's current pain.
            Clenching the bronze doorknob that held you between the hallway and your haven of a bedroom, you considered the risks of visiting Masky. Would someone enter after you did? Would they try to hurt you? Was someone else already in there? Your mind wandered to your first encounter with Masky and Laughing Jack. They seemed pretty calm and collected. Jack was more concerned with Masky's health than his "playtime" with you. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to go there for just a few minutes.
            An eerie silence fell on your ears, much similar to when you first left your bedroom. The faint ringing emphasized the tiniest sounds around you, making you think that you were producing much more noise than you really were. You laid a hand over the doorknob that led to Masky's room, twisted it, and gently pushed the door open.
            It was dark again. Tiny lights from the machines were all that illuminated from the darkness. A fleeting thought slipped across your mind, questioning how exactly the Creepypastas had acquired all of this medical equipment. Most likely stolen, of course. Your focus returned to the current situation, and you closed the door behind you. Your other hand reached around on the wall next to you, searching for the light switch. You quickly remembered that the mansion had no such thing.
            "Don't turn on the light," a weak voice forced itself from its source. You assumed it was Masky, accepting his command.
            "What," you paused, feeling a little bad that you may have woken the Proxy, "What happened to you?" Images of the once illuminated room flashed through you mind as you tried to remember where things were and weren't. You shuffled your feet across the floor, holding out your hands to prevent you from colliding with the bed or a machine.
            A wheezing inhale of Masky's lungs squeezed at your chest. Regret began to fill you for making the poor man talk in such a state. Masky replied anyway, "I made mistakes."
            Part of you wanted to question further, and the rest of you wanted to just let Masky rest. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your thoughts so they wouldn't escape your mouth. You reached the side of Masky's bed, only just bumping into it to rock it slightly. "S-sorry," you quickly apologized with a cringe. One thought broke its way out of you, "Are you going to live?" Immediately, you winced at yourself for doing exactly what you were trying not to.
            Several long seconds crept by with only the sounds of Masky's wheezing and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. A sense of doubt filled the air, and you could feel it easily. Eventually, Masky did answer you, "I've been through worse."
            "You can't be serious," you shook with fear and pity. Was this what you would go through as a Proxy? And how could Masky have gone through worse, only to survive? He sounded like death! 
            "Master emits an aura," Masky's weak voice began to explain as he wheezed between every few words, "…that hastens his Proxie's healing rates." A deep, strained intake of air passed through Masky's wind pipes. Talking seemed to be laboring him.
            You reached around the bedside, searching for a familiar mass of flesh to connect with your fingers. Eventually, you did find Masky's hand, and you intertwined your fingers with his. It wasn't out of love, nor was it out of friendship; you simply felt so much pity for someone who was once human like you. For this person - for all of the Proxies - to go through this on a, most likely, regular basis, you feared your own fate. You feared their fates. Slenderman was sending them out on missions that were near suicidal.
            "It's not Master's fault," Masky uttered as though he were reading your mind. "I once thought the same thing when I first met Hoodie." He inhaled a few times, trying to catch his breath. A gentle squeeze of your hand hinted to you that he was in pain while trying to breathe. Masky continued talking anyway, "When a Proxy gets hurt, it’s our own fault. You'll learn why over time." Once again, Masky wheezed in a breath of air, only this time forcing out a congested coughing fit. He gripped your hand tight, crunching your knuckles under his own pressure. Between a few coughs, Masky yelled out in agony, then returned to his fit of hacking. The heart monitor began to race, your own heart matched with it, surely.
            Just as you were turning to go get someone, the door opened. A new face switched on the lights, showing off his blue mask that seemed to have a dark ooze dripping down its cheeks. "Get out of here," the blue one exclaimed. He rushed to Masky's side, shoving you away. You stumbled back, only to fall on your aft as you watched the new Creepypasta snatch up a small object from the bedside table and shove it over Masky's mouth. You heard something like compressed air release. Masky soon relaxed into his pillow.
            "One more," the new man said. You heard the compressed air hiss again. Masky inhaled a deep breath, sounding much less congested than earlier.
            "Thanks, Jack," Masky exhaled his breath in a conservative manner, as though trying to hold in whatever he had just inhaled from the object in the other's hand.
            "Quit talking," the apparent 'Jack' commanded. "You know you shouldn't be talking for a few days." He turned to look at you, setting the object that you then recognized as an inhaler back on the table. "You! I told you to get out! You were making him talk, weren't you?"
            You began to stammer out senseless words, not sure what this Creepypasta would do to you. Blood seemed to escape you, your fingertips tingling and your tongue feeling dry. You could only observe as Jack stomped over to you and lifted you up by the collar of your shirt. He drug you out of the room, switching off the light with the willpower that Hoodie had mentioned, and nearly slammed the door behind himself. Gripping his strong arm, you tried to get stable on your feet, but all they did was drag along the floor. Jack continued down the hall, bringing you to God knows where.
            "You new kids are nothing but trouble. Never able to mind your own business," Jack lectured you, easily carrying you around. "Stay away from Masky. He shouldn't be talking in his condition. That should have been obvious to you!"
            "That's enough, Eyeless Jack," a familiar voice came from further down the hall. From your previous experiences, you would be dead scared to hear it, but right now, you were more than grateful. "Put her down."
            Eyeless Jack complied with Slenderman's order. He simply released his grip on your shirt and allowed you to stumble around as you caught your balance. "Keep her away from the bedridden. We've lost enough already." Jack pointed at you accusingly. How could this guy talk to Slenderman that way? Was he not a Proxy?
            With only a nod, Slenderman dismissed Eyeless Jack from the scene. The blue-masked man stormed down the stair case, muttering obscenities to himself. Slenderman held his attention on you. Your eyes studied anything but your future master's form. It was quiet for a moment as you searched for something to say, hoping Slenderman would say something to break the silence.
            You ended up being the first to speak, "I just wanted to see how bad it was to be a Proxy." You flinched, realizing how ignorant your reasoning was.
            "Well, now you know. I suggest you refrain from conversing with Masky until he heals to more stable condition," Slenderman replied.
            Nodding frantically, you accepted the tall being's words, relieved that he wasn't going to strangle you again. "I'm just going back to my room now," you gestured behind you. "I promise I'm not going back to Masky's room."
            A single nod was all you needed to turn tail and run to your room. You shoved the door open, then clicked it behind you, pressing your back against its solid form. A few relaxing breaths rushed in and out of your lungs. This was not what you were hoping to happen, but it did turn out better than it could have. Whatever Eyeless Jack was going to do to you, it was stopped by Slenderman, and you silently thanked him for that.
            At this point, you just wanted to relax in your room. No more snooping around and getting curious. You would save that for tomorrow, most likely. 
           So, you crawled into your bed, gazing at the white ceiling that loomed over you, and putting together the events of the day. To be honest, not much happened, but it seemed like quite a bit. Your eyelids felt incredibly heavy almost as soon as you hit the bed. Maybe you were still worn out from the day before? Either way, whilst lost in your thoughts of all that had happened so far, your mind decided to shut down. Everything went black.