Can't Say

Chapter 36

      The week following your scavenging mission was relatively peaceful. Toby, Masky, Hoodie, and yourself were still recovering, now having semi-tender scars where your wounds once ached. No longer needing a sling, your once broken arm was now supported by a lighter splint. Slenderman instructed that you would need another week for it to heal completely. “Bones are finicky things, if not allowed to regenerate properly,” he said. This didn't bother you in the least bit, knowing that it would postpone any rough missions for a little longer.
      Not only that, but you got to tend to your garden, which was now blooming with flowers and spawning its long-awaited vegetables. It would still take time before anything was ripe for eating, but the site of your efforts continuing to flourish filled with you with new vigor. If this worked out completely, then you would most likely start an orchard or some sort; perhaps grow various fruit trees – so many to choose! You would need a greater amount of water for them, however; maybe a long watering hose would be something to consider.
      When Slenderman wasn't busy with his orderly things, he observed you gardening – but only when you were alone. He was fitted into a new suit by Trenderman, who you later learned was another of your master's brothers. No doubt, the trashed suit had been tossed or used for scraps. As for Slenderman's wounds, he never showed signs of lingering injury. His healing abilities seemed much faster than what was provided by the mansion – or was he providing a portion of his own? The theory was interesting, but you didn't want to bother figuring it out; there was no need to concern yourself with the details. What did call for your concern, though, was the odd-ball stalking Slenderman would do when you were isolated from the others.
      Sure, Slenderman was naturally a stalker, but why you? Why did he need to observe you so much? What was it that he couldn't piece together by prying into your mind?
      Or was he waiting for something?
      On the occasion, you would make sure to give him long stares of obvious expressions – most of them being silent “I see you” messages. Slenderman didn't seem fazed by your passive-aggressive threats.
      There were times when you considered giving him a spicy attitude and suggesting that your master help with the garden if he had all that time to stare at you. Needless to say, that never happened, for fear of Slenderman's wrath for being so liberal with your words.
      Masky, Hoodie, and Toby would sometimes help with the garden, though they only knew the basics. You were the brains of the operation. At least you weren't completely useless to them. Laughing Jack still inspected his gumball tree each day. He was excited to see progress every single time. The sapling was barely four feet tall, still bearing young leaves, but much more distinct. You were positive, by now, that what you had previously suspected through the encyclopedias was true.
      The “gumball” tree would produce nut-like seeds, covered in spines. There would be nothing sweet or chewy about them. At least it was the only tree in your garden, so Laughing Jack couldn't accuse you of one of your vegetable seeds taking its place. It almost broke your heart to imagine the disappointed look he would have once the tree produced, but you were more fearful of how else he would react. One day, you would see Jack in an agitated state; this was inevitable.
      What fair amount of peace you savored for the week was curiously interrupted by the sweet sounds of terror and drama.
      You were weeding the garden, carefully watched by your master like a dog stalking a new toy. In the midst of your work, someone came crashing through the treeline, desperate and exhausted. It was a young man, adorned in a pair of glasses, a red shirt, blue jeans, and a long, black trench coat trailing behind him. His hair was short, messy, and brown. Given the situation, nothing about him was clean or unscathed. Even his tanned skin was littered with scrapes and bruises from the numerous branches and barbs he had undoubtedly been caught by. As the man closed in on you, his brown eyes were ever apparent, held in your direction with pleas of succor.
      Admittedly, you were briefly stunned by the sudden turn of events, but quickly gathered yourself and rose to a fighting stance. If he tore up your precious garden in this fight, you would make sure to keep him alive for torture and slavery.
      “Please, you have to help me,” the young man fell to his knees right at the edge of the garden. His panting was on the verge of wheezing. Wherever he came from, he'd been running for a while; this didn't seem like one of the Creepypasta's victims.
      Shifting your gaze to determine Slenderman's reaction to this, you were startled by your master being much closer than before, now lashing a tendril to the newcomer and binding him. Slenderman brought the man to his level, a deep scowl knitting into his pale brow. He hissed, “You reek of Zalgo. What ruse has he devised this time?”
      The strange man wriggled in Slenderman's vine-like grasp, fear welling up once again. “No! No! I'm not with Zalgo! Please! I'm a victim!” Hope was quickly draining from him, you were sure the human was about to cry. Slenderman seemed unconcerned with the man's struggles, studying him closely.
      “No fair, William!” A new voice called from the trees, sounding poutful, yet playful; it was also masculine, but you detected a juvenile essence to it. “You can't ask the enemy for help!” You once again shifted your eyes to the most recent newcomer. Again, someone emerged from the treeline, not far from where the apparent William originated.
      This guy was much less human, though he probably once was – how long ago, you couldn't guess. He was scrawny, disheveled, and downright grotesque. He looked to be a burn victim; splotched by oozy wounds, and the lack of a complete nose. His auburn hair - miraculously still growing, it seemed – reached the small of his back, only semi-tamed down from his bushy and frizzy texture. A baggy, white t-shirt and black slacks; both were littered with scorches and holes, matching the wounds on his flesh. All in all, this frail-looking adolescent didn't come close to what you imagined the voice to be partnered with.
      William lowered his voice, pleading with Slenderman to rescue him. For a moment, you thought the tall being might actually cooperate. “Please. Felix is the only one who serves Zalgo,” William continued his fruitless attempts at convincing.
      The mess of a human, apparently called Felix, stopped some several yards from the main scene. He showed signs of reasoning, but the childish fidgeting while he tried to hold himself back was manifest. There was a mentality within him that seemed stunted, compared to his physical appearance. “William, we need to go,” his eyes shifted around nervously. “Zalgo's calling.”
      “What is this human worth to you?” Slenderman called to Felix, holding out the struggling and protesting William to him. “If I were to dispose of him, would you care? Would Zalgo care?”
      “Don't hurt my William!” Felix reached out, nearly breaking his imaginary wall to approach Slenderman. The shock in his eyes was all your master needed to see.
      Without further conversation, Slenderman extended his tendril and lowered William to Felix's side. William was irate with terror, knowing that he was once again a prisoner. He was unable to make a break for escape, quickly entangled by the arms of his odd cohort. Felix was easily able to subdue his dear William.
      After a strangely friendly bout of thanking from Felix, he and William disappeared back into the forest. Slenderman held his position, waiting for something. You watched, unsure if it was safe or in your best interest to return to gardening as if nothing had happened.
      “Who were they?” You finally asked, snapping your master out of his supposed trance.
      A concerned grumble of some sort emitted from Slenderman, “I've never met them, until this point. Regardless, they're Zalgoid.”
      “But, what about William? Maybe he could have been a useful ally?”
      “While I certainly pondered the possibility,” Slenderman walked along the edge of your garden, pacing back and forth in long, slow strides, “I'm still in need of more time before taunting Zalgo. Whatever connection Felix has to Zalgo, he is most likely useless without William. There's a large possibility that William is simply Felix's pet.” He needn't explain further.
      If the Slender family protected William, there would be repercussions from Zalgo. Perhaps not immediately, but it would begin, undoubtedly, with Felix and his unbridled rage. The lack of unnecessary injury to anyone of the Slender family was more important than gaining a questionable ally.
      Slenderman stopped, his posture straightening and tendrils retracting. “Besides, I gathered all the information he could provide while determining his legitimacy.” You mentally knocked your head, feeling silly to forget that the great Slenderman had telepathy.
      That being said, it also brought up an interesting question to you, which you voiced with deeply quirked brows. “Shouldn't you have seen them coming?” Sexual-Offenderman could keep track of his Proxies; Slenderman had also expressed his abilities of knowing and seeing all within his territory. Surely, he would have sensed two strangers long before they appeared on the mansion grounds.
      With a professional use of his “poker face”, Slenderman sternly replied, “I was observing them the entire time.” You knew, however, that he was lying. Slenderman had been distracted by his strange obsession with you. He would never admit to this, but you knew beforehand that he was locked in a tunnel vision of just you and your gardening.
      If Slenderman detected your awareness of the truth, he didn't react. You chose to change topics quickly, before he decided to check your level of gullibility. With that, you began wondering why the Zalgoids had been so quiet until now. The last time you had heard anything about them was the short fight on Sexual-Offenderman's territory. It was surprising, really, that Zalgo or anyone in his faction respected the boundaries at all.
      “I assure you that Zalgo and his faction members have been quite the nuisance,” Slenderman's low, frustrated voice answered your internal queries. “My brothers have been working together while I took care of personal matters with those forum members.”
      “How many brothers do you have?” You returned to weeding the garden, knowing that there wasn't much left and the conversation had turned casual. Tiny sprouts of grass shoots and other unwanted vegetation were plucked by your fingers, knowing that the seeds you had planted had grown more than enough for you to tell the difference.
      A sigh sounded from Slenderman's wake – it was still a mystery if he actually breathed or if it was for effect. “Three.”
      You smirked at the exasperation in your master's reply. He didn't like to talk about his relatives. Were they that bad? Or was he embarrassed of them? Still, your curiosity drove out the questions, “No sisters?”
      “None. Female Slender-beings are a rare occurrence,” your master replied, rather nonchalantly.
      “Slender-beings are so mysterious. You don't go into detail about your kind.”
      “And I would like to keep it that way.”
      You raised your head and eyed Slenderman, unsure if he was actually irritated enough to attack if questioned further. From his demeanor, you didn't see any obvious signs, but his earlier statement was enough for you to drop the subject – just in case.
      Now, there was just silence, though you finished up the weeding and stood for a good stretch. Gardening was nice and all, especially after you got the hang of it, but it was a lot of back work. Your neck was beginning to ache. You rubbed it, smearing dirt from your soiled hands onto your sweating skin. For an unknown amount of time, you stared at your garden, rubbing the knot on the back of your neck, taking it all in. Would you have ever done this as a human? Would you have bothered with such labor to survive in that life?
      Maybe. If you needed to, like in this situation as a Proxy. Food supply was, by no underestimation, scarce in the Creepypasta world. You had yet to learn of any fruit-bearing trees or wild vegetables native to these lands. There was an undeniable surplus of foliage; however, no one consumed from any of it. Hell, knowing this world, anything produced from the plants was probably toxic or did something horrifying to the consumer – much like the pollen Slenderman used during your Proxy test. No wonder the Creepypastas traveled between worlds – there was nothing to eat here! How the hell did this world come to existence in the first place?
      “Have you ever heard of the human's infinite universe theory?” Slenderman's disembodied voice startled you from your deepening thoughts.
      Indeed, you had heard of that theory – and many similar to it. Conspiracy theorists loved to use it in their Youtube and Reddit posts. Hell, it was probably used in Creepypasta stories. You were never certain of the truth, though. “So,” you turned back to Slenderman, dropping your hand from the back of your neck, “you're saying this world is a separate dimension?”
      Your master shifted, searching for the words that would sink into your inferior brain. “This world is a separate possibility from many others. You're correct that it is a dimension of its own, but it's also a parasite to the human world that created it.” He watched you, listening to the signals in your mind as it processed this information.
      A parasite? And the humans created it? This new, and downright intriguing, knowledge jump-started a braver side of you. “So, if the humans created the Creepypastas, shouldn't you all be ser-”
      “Don't get complacent,” Slenderman advanced on you with malice in his words. He was inches from your face within milliseconds, hidden mouth torn open and hissing a warning. You weren't sure if it was sweat from working in the garden or you urinated during your moment of surprise; checking later would be a good idea.
      “Yes, master,” you managed to squeak out, knowing it would pacify Slenderman's burst of anger.
      “Much like the biblical story of God creating humanity, so, too, have the Creepypastas have betrayed humans,” Slenderman straightened up, his mouth sealing away. “Granted, we were designed to do just that.” He was right, of course. The stories posted on the internet were evident blueprints of the Creepypastas you had come to serve. Man had, hopefully unknowingly, brought life to their own predators. They were no longer on the top of the food chain.
      Things were quiet after that. Slenderman wandered off to do his own things. You cleaned up and put away your gardening tools, ready to grab a snack and cool off. With the garden closer to the back patio, you entered from there, almost instantly wishing you took the long way around.
      Just as you opened the door and your ears adjusted to the interior sounds of the mansion, you happened to notice Jeff the Killer dragging a body down the hall. He was approaching the door to the basement you had tortured that poor boy. There was only one outcome you saw for whoever Jeff had chosen as his victim.
      The body looked to be female, maybe in her later years reaching 40. You were never sure if Jeff had a preference to his victims. He seemed more like a serial killer, anyway. If Jeff had brought her here, though, she was most likely only unconscious. You would probably hear screams in the near future.
      As the victim disappeared down the short steps to the basement, one foot missing a shoe and covered in mud, you heard Jeff call out, “You could've helped.” He soon shut the door.
      You came to your senses and fully entered the mansion, making sure to close the door behind you. “Sorry,” you called back shyly. It shouldn't have fazed you to see that, but it caught you well off guard. Passing the door didn't help you brush the thoughts from your mind. The floors of the hallway ahead were tainted with brushed mud and blood, a trail leading to the mansion's main entrance.
      Once you reached the kitchen, things weren't so bad. There were still surprises waiting for you to witness. Chit-chatting with the kitchen bar between them were Eyeless Jack and some unknown girl. She was petite, cute, and wore her beautiful, brunette hair draped around her shoulders. There was a darkness to her; a rough-and-tough edge that peered from the shadows of her form. Even so, she seemed peaceful with Eyeless Jack as they conversed like old acquaintances. On the counter, sitting closer to Jack, was a small cooler much like what you would see fishermen or construction workers tote with them. You had a pretty good feeling there were kidneys inside.
      The new female stole a glance of you, noticing your presence, but she chose to ignore you further. Jack didn't bother giving you the time of day. No matter, you shrugged, all you wanted was a cold helping of water, so you strode over to the refrigerator and snatched up a bottle. The refreshing sting of cells going into shock felt great over your tongue. You dug around for a cheese stick, hoping no one ate them all just yet. To your relief, there was one left – such a feeling of getting the last piece was always rewarding at the mansion.
      “I'm surprised Andrea didn't come with you this time,” Eyeless Jack commented. You couldn't help but eavesdrop.
      The young woman rolled her eyes, “Oh, she's focused on a new outfit she designed for us. She's so excited to get it done.” Her voice was full of admiration and love, a petal-soft tone of love. “With all those Zalgoid issues, though, we've been in need of new clothes. Splenderman's been getting less patient, too.”
      “Is that possible?”
      “Right? It's scary - even for me.”
      “Uh oh. Scarlette's losing her edge,” Eyeless Jack teased.
      The apparent Scarlette gasped, “Am not!” She lightly punched Jack's arm from across the counter. “Things have just been getting more stressful. I've got a bad feeling about the war.”
      Jack nodded. “Yeah, we're all getting that vibe that something big is coming.”
      Scarlette pushed herself up, stretching a bit. “I should get going. Andrea probably wants me to try on her newest piece by now.”
      “Why does she need you? You're fucking twins.”
      “You wouldn't get it, Jack. Sewing and fitting clothes on yourself is a lot harder,” Scarlette sneered, walking to the kitchen exit. She passed a judging gaze at you, watching you enjoy your snack away from them. Without a word of acknowledgment, Scarlette disappeared down the hall.
      Eyeless Jack opened his cooler, inspecting the goods inside. He seemed to be indifferent to your presence – maybe deliberately ignoring you? It was a good sign for you to get out of the kitchen and leave him be, so you did just that.
      Upon approaching the lobby, you heard a commotion of curiously cheerful energy. Once the living room entrance came into view, things became clear that your fellow Proxies had convinced BEN to lend them the television. You just had to know what they were up to.
      Toby noticed you, breaking his concentration on setting up the DVD player that you were pretty sure wasn't there before. “____! Remem. . . mem. . . Remember that Deadpool guy you t-told me about? I found a movie of him when we. . .w-we went looting!” He was elated, to say the least. Hoodie and Masky were eagerly waiting on the floor, reclined in their separate piles of miscellaneous pillows. BEN curiously sat in the couch, his look of disinterest betrayed by his focused study of the DVD case.
      You stepped into the living room, happy to have another chance to bond with everyone. “Did we get any popcorn?” You offered, wanting to make the movie night a good one.
      Masky looked up, shaking his head. “No popcorn. And we already ate all the ice cream.”
      “You mean, Jeff ate all the ice cream,” Hoodie corrected with a bitter tone.
      “Did not,” Jeff argued as he passed you from behind. Admittedly, he startled you, if only a little. “It was Laughing Jack. You know he has that sweet tooth.”
      “I saw you,” Hoodie glared through his dark mask. You could detect the invisible daggers shooting from his eyes.
      Jeff didn't let down, “You saw me that one time. Now shut the fuck up before I ruin your movie.”
      Everyone was quiet; tension in the air instantly thick. You felt yourself grow pale for a moment, knowing that Jeff had all the bite to go with his bark. You turned back to the kitchen, “Jeff, you don't have a drink. Want me to go get you some whiskey or beer?”
      Turning his lidless eyes to you, Jeff sneered as he pulled out a half-pint from his hoodie pocket, “No thanks. I'm good. Maybe you should go clean that shit off your nose so you can smell the alcohol on my breath.”
      All eagerness to keep the peace was lost from you. Now, the blood rushed back to your face, reddening your ears. Your mouth filled with drool at the thought of teaching Jeff a lesson. “I was trying to be nice,” you spat, marching right up to Jeff. He wasn't shaken by your sudden courage. “You could have stopped at 'I'm good', but you had to add in the last part, didn't you?” Spit flew onto Jeff's face, green-tinted droplets dotting him like some strange acne. His face dropped to great annoyance.
      “All right,” Jeff pushed you back, not bothering to be gentle about it. “Back off and calm your tits. Shit, you need to control that spitting thing. I don't need a fucking shower.”
      “Say you're sorry,” you demanded. You wiped your mouth with your jacket sleeve; however, with it being a faux leather, it only served to smear the fluid.
      “Fuck you,” Jeff sized you up. He looked genuinely disgusted that you would even suggest he do such a thing.
      “Quit treating us like shit and apologize!”
      “Or what? You're gonna find out my weakness and use it against me like you did with BEN?” Jeff retorted, possibly not realizing what he had just done until it was too late.
      Once again, the room fell silent.
      Your eyes warily rolled to assess BEN's current state. You prayed he didn't hear, but you knew damn well that he did. You didn't want him to fight you, but after that squabble with Jeff, you were secretly hoping for one.
      BEN didn't look pleased at all. He held a gaze on you that pierced right into your chest. “So,” he spoke slowly, “it was you, after all. I thought so.” Then, without another word, he went back to studying the movie case as though what you had done to him weeks ago was nothing special.
      Everyone in the room remained speechless, waiting for BEN to lash out a surprise attack. Toby was the first to move again, switching the DVD player on. The television glared a logo before bringing up the DVD player menu. “So,” Toby cleared his throat, “can we wa. . . start the movie?”
      “Yup,” BEN replied, straightening himself out on the couch so he could face the television better.
      The rest of the audience followed suit. You kept your distance and found a spot near Hoodie and Masky. Toby, having already placed the disc into the player, pressed PLAY and retreated to his claimed spot. Needless to say, things were awkward for the first ten minutes of the movie; no one really laughed at the wise-cracks and jokes. It wasn't until a little later that you all were absorbed into the film and couldn't resist at least chuckling – which soon turned into howling laughter as the antics continued.
      At one point, Slenderman peeked in from the foyer, genuinely confused about the social gathering in the living room. It wasn't until he scoffed at the movie that you noticed his presence, “What mindless garbage.” You quirked a brow, then shrugged off your master's distaste for the movie. Slenderman was a killer, so wouldn't this movie be to his liking? Though, he was more responsible about his practices – doing it for self-preservation, “science”, and other more practical reasons. The others in here, though, they killed for the fun of it – or were forced to. Still, you happily finished the movie, glad to enjoy some sort of human product as though you had never become a Proxy.
      Later that night, things turned sour. The movie ended fine. Everyone went on their merry ways. Toby and Jeff quoted every line that came from Deadpool's mouth. Hoodie and Masky joked about the “baby hand”. You watched, a smiled curled to one side of your lips. Once again, Proxyhood was starting to become not so bad. That is, until you went to sleep.
      It didn't start immediately. The terror inched its way into your dreams little by little. You didn't notice it, at first; the strange, green statue watching you from a distance, only appearing at the most random of places. You were deep in sleep by the time things heated up. The chance of you waking was at its lowest. BEN – the real BEN – appeared to you as the Elegy of Emptiness statue from his copy of Majora's Mask. You tried to hold your ground, but the raw emotions within dreams overwhelmed you – you were nearly hysterical with fear. It took time for you to realize why BEN was appearing in your dreams. Once your memories of reality unlocked, you knew that you were in danger. You knew why he was there.
      To say that BEN chased you would be a lie. He stalked you. Each time his grinning statue form appeared in your field of vision, he was perfectly still. You would turn and run, only to find him in a new place, always facing you.
      Someone else was there, too. You couldn't see them, but you heard them. The Happy Mask Salesman was the only laughter your recognized, but he was accompanied by the laughter of children. The disembodied laughing reverberated from BEN, even in each new appearance, but never did you see the other beings.
      Until you fell.
      Something tripped you. Your legs didn't want to move. It was one of those dreams again, where you felt the weight of thick fluids around your limbs. Panic set in, and you clawed at the ground to keep moving. Straight ahead was BEN, much closer than he had gotten until now. Several feet moved into view, putting themselves between you and BEN.
      “You know,” BEN's voice echoed in the atmosphere, scratching your ears, “you shouldn't have done that.”
      Three children rolled you over onto your back, pinning you down. They had masks on, but you recognized them as Moon Children. Before you could begin to struggle against their hold, the small beings began sewing your legs together, and your arms tight against your sides. You could feel every pierce of the needles, the vibrations and burns of the thick threads coursing through your skin. All this, added to the terror of what BEN had planned for you, easily forced out a cry of pleads for it all to stop. You even apologized with no avail.
      The Happy Mask Salesman slowly stepped around your form, stopping at your feet. As he gazed down at you, he pulled out a grotesque mask from his collection. He looked from the mask to you, a sneer tugged hard to one side of his face. The strange man, carrying such a large backpack of items, managed to lean down with little effort and lower his lips near your ear. He said, “You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?”
      At that, the Happy Mask Salesman shoved his chosen mask onto your face, holding it in place as you tried to fight it off. All you could do was move your head from side to side, but his Moon Children accomplices were quick to sink the first stitch in. They worked in fluid motion to sew the mask down. Warm blood trickled down into your hairline, your ears, your cheeks and neck. You couldn't see. You could breathe; there were no holes for you. All you could feel was your lungs beginning to burn, trying to expand for a fresh fill of air. All you could hear were the Moon Children laughing at your misery.