Can't Say

Chapter 39

      It took a couple more hours for Slenderman to gain his physical strength back. He eventually was able to stand and walk, though he stumbled and struggled most of the time. You did your best to support his weak body, but the height difference proved challenging. Your master was determined to get back home with you; the distance didn't matter. He had business to take care of. Unfortunately, he was still too weak for much telepathic communication, much less a quick slender-walk to the mansion. The two of you had to hoof it back through the damp forest.
      The time between your slow traverse and Slenderman's awakening was spent, mostly, in silence. You did most of the talking; apologizing for things out of your control; sobbing into your master's chest; cleaning his gradually healing wounds with fresh water. The majority of your chatter, after calming down from Slenderman's gentle touch, expressed your concerns about this strange feral form. You made it clear that things needed to come to light as soon as Slenderman was able to explain. He seemed to shy away from the subject, even with his advantageous poker face. You wouldn't let him dodge your questions any more - not even if he lashed out to keep you silent.
      You weren't sure how much daylight remained. The Creepypasta world was already dangerous, but the night was when the monsters became most active. If you and Slenderman encountered an enemy, would you be able to fight? It wasn't hard to tell how sore and battered your body was, but if push came to shove, you hoped that you could defend your master with everything you had.
      "I really hope you know where we're going," you uttered after some lengthy time of awkwardly supported walking. "I don't know if you need your psychic abilities to see a mini-map of your territory or what." Slenderman stumbled, though you weren't sure if it was because of your remark or his physical weakness.
      The forest was growing darker. The ground wasn't drying up as quickly as you wanted. Leaves and debris cluttered your feet with a cold sensation of dampness. You couldn't wait to get into a hot bath and dry bed.
      Creepypasta wildlife began to stir with every minute that inched closer to dusk. You heard chirps, howls, and bellows both familiar and new - none of which you desired to meet. Slenderman also seemed tense. Perhaps he feared the same as you: the inability to defend himself. His urgency in steps picked up what his body would allow. It was one of those rare moments that you witnessed Slenderman expressing some sort of fear.
      Up ahead, beyond the brush, you could see a still glow of yellow light. At first, you considered it to be a Creepypasta version of a lure fish or some variant. The hesitation in your steps faltered Slenderman's, but he urged you on. You trusted him.
      Several long minutes passed by as the two of you struggled closer to the light. As you emerged from the remaining forest foliage, you found yourself in the comfortingly familiar yard of Slenderman's mansion. Never had you been so happy to see its aged structure. This was your home, after all. As days passed, it grew to be a better home than the one in your human life. Sure, you had to deal with some rude housemates, but they weren't so bad. Here, you had family.
      Slenderman urged you on, detecting a presence behind the two of you. You could feel its predatory gaze on your back. Whatever was stalking you and Slenderman, you didn't want to find out. The welcoming glow of the porch light seemed like a safe aura from your position. If only the two of you could reach it faster, then the dangerous game of tag would be over - with a less grotesque ending.
      Somehow, you were lucky enough to set foot on the doorstep without a confrontation or surprise ending. Slenderman grasped the brass door handle and pushed the door open. Relief washed over you with the smells and atmosphere of the mansion foyer. You shut the door after ensuring that Slenderman had accompanied you inside. You were safe - for the most part.
      The first person to greet wasn't BEN, surprisingly, but a new being to add to your mental log book. "Master Slenderman, it's good to see you back, but you're in worse shape than I had imagined," his gentle, eloquent voice greeted with worry.
      This person was undoubtedly a ghost, by his looks alone. His bald head and neck, from what you could see, were littered with bite marks. Smack-dab in the center of his brow was a distinct marking that you had learned about during your time as a Proxy - the Operator symbol. Vertical slashes ran through the ghost's black, left eye. Upon that eye was a monocle. Interestingly enough, his right eye was the one with a pupil. The being's top half was dressed in a pristine suit shirt and jacket, complete with a tie snugly fitted to his collar. The bottom half of his body faded into an empty wisp, giving the appearance of a cartoonish floating ghost.
      "I had expected you to be away for much longer and planned a search party if you didn't return within two more days, but here you are," the new ghost rambled before catching himself. He eyed you with a flash of surprise, probably only just noticing that you were wearing nothing but Slenderman's tattered suit jacket. "Miss ____! I'll fix you a bath right away! Master, please make your way to your room and I'll have new attire and medical supplies available for you." He deeply bowed, hands folded behind his back, and promptly turned to ascend the staircase.
      Slenderman stopped him in his tracks, "Take care of ____ first. I have more urgent matters to tend to." To this, the ghost butler bowed again and hurried to his commanded task. Your master placed a large, bony hand on the small of your back, "His name is Nirman. He's served the Slender family for many centuries." He seemed to have been reading the questions within your mind, which was a good sign of Slenderman's telepathy recovering.
      "Okay, but why did you put your symbol right on his forehead?" Your brows knitted in curiosity.
      "In short: for my own amusement," bluntly replied Slenderman. You didn't doubt his response.
      Though his posture hinted at his remaining weakness, Slenderman ascended the staircase with you at his side. The two of you were worn to the bone, at best. It was time for some much-needed rest and recuperation. At the top of the stairs, your master parted ways with you. He retreated to his room, while you waveringly headed to the bathroom on the Proxy side of the floor.
      The door was wide open, an invisible cloud of relaxing, herbal scents dancing at the entrance. The air was warm and humid from the freshly ran bath water. On the small stand nearby were a couple of towels and rags perfectly folded and at the ready for your use. Nirman stood - or rather, floated - with his hands neatly folded behind his back, and awaited your approval. You tiredly thanked him, hoping he would immediately leave for some privacy. This, to your utter dismay, didn't happen. Nirman remained in place, seemingly waiting for something. His mismatched eyes watched you with anticipation.
      "I'm not stripping in front of you," gripping the only garment adorning your body, you narrowed your eyes at Nirman.
      "Very well," Nirman bowed. "I'll return later for the jacket." At that, he drifted out through the bathroom door, closing it behind him. 
      Your shoulders loosened in relief. Before stripping in confidence, you checked the door to make certain it was locked. It was. The suit jacket flew off and you wearily climbed into the luxurious bathtub.
      The heated water nipped at your wounds like stretching a sore muscle - a strange, relaxing pain. You let it swallow your form up to your neck. There was even a bathing pillow for your head to rest on the edge of the tub. Where were all of these wonderful things before? Sure, the hygienic supplies were always high-dollar and available, but not these accessories. Bath oils, comfort pillows, buffing stones, anything you needed to recover from a hard night out. They all would have been nice to have after each mission. One can never be truly satisfied when there is more to be had.
      You allowed yourself to be embraced by the pampering. The one mistake you made was closing your eyes.
      Peace; the kind you get when you have a dreamless sleep.
      Then, the abrupt rush of heaving and gasping for air. Confusion; a blur of images and panicked thoughts. Where were you? What was happening? What were you doing before? It was the closest experience to being born. You coughed and gagged, wheezing against an irritated wind pipe. Your vision cleared, and things began to look familiar. The warm, humid air filled your desperate lungs. The cold, wet tile stung your back and buttocks. Holding you down was none other than Slenderman, himself. He seemed worried, watching you closely as he pinned you to the bathroom floor. For the second time in a short while, you were bare naked in front of him. Neither of which were a good time.
      "What," you managed to utter between rapid breaths.
      Slenderman knew what you were going to ask - either out of predictability or he had fully recovered. "You nearly drowned in the bath," he stated, "again." Once he was convinced you weren't going to fight him, your master rose to his feet and handed you a fresh towel. "I should have had someone nearby to monitor you," guilt laced his voice. He turned his head away, as though he couldn't see your nude form from any direction; it was a courteous gesture, at least.
      By now, you had mostly caught your breath. Things were making sense again. You wrapped the towel around your torso and stood up - not without struggling. God, your muscles were sore. Your scratches and bruises sent enervated signals to your brain, which, even that lazily processed your pain. Before your legs gave way, Slenderman caught your much smaller frame and lifted you into his arms. He cradled you, knowing that even your neck wouldn't hold up well in bridal-style. You didn't struggle, despite the embarrassing situation. At this rate, it was pointless to worry about your appearance to your master. Hell, was human nudity even a social concern to a being such as himself? This was the same creature who would dissect his victims and skewer them on tree branches.
      You were carried to your bedroom. No one else seemed to be around to witness one of your most vulnerable moments, thank goodness. Slenderman closed the door behind him and laid you across your bed. He began to dig in your armoir until he found a large sleep-shirt and tossed it over you. "Aw," you snickered weakly. "Not gonna dress me, too?" Your weary eyes caught a disapproving expression on the vague features of Slenderman's pale head. You didn't need any other reply, rolling onto your side and trying your hardest to push at least your upper body to sit up. The pain your skin and muscles cried out to had you reconsidering if you would be fine with just the towel.
      After finally slipping on the shirt and crawling under your plush bed covers, you relaxed into the bed, ready to safely fall asleep. One thing kept you awake, however: Slenderman. He was still at the foot of your bed, watching. You knew just how to get rid of him, "So what's going on with me? What haven't you been telling me?"
      To your surprise, Slenderman seated himself on the bed, facing away from you. Usually, he would just slender-walk away. Was he finally laying everything out?
      "Several months ago, I was hunting during the late evening in the human world. There was a large woodland near a town - perfect for wandering souls to be my victims." Your master paused, probably wondering if you would protest that he get to the point. When he remained uninterrupted, Slenderman continued, "It had begun to rain a cold shower. I considered giving up and moving on to another location, but then I noticed something curled up at the foot of a tree." He twisted his long back to face you, one arm akimbo on the bed. His voice grew dark, "At first, I considered myself lucky to find a meal when I was sure to give up, but then I took your wake into my senses and realized what you truly were." Slenderman crawled across the bed until he was hovering over you, staring you down with his lacking eyes, "Your soul was foul. A venomous serpent had latched itself onto your ankle, tainting your blood. Nearby, was a sickly lone wolf considering you as its next meal. Nothing about you was delectable to me. Your humanity was dying, though you, yourself, were evolving."
      Questions about the snake bite briefly passed through your thoughts, but it had obviously not killed or deformed you, so there was no immediate concern. Instead, you focused on Slenderman's lead with his short tale. "Evolving into. . . " you began, mumbling the words to urge your master on, though you knew how it would end.
      "Into a feral," Slenderman finished. "It was a rare thing to stumble upon, but I had no interest in allowing you to complete this evolution and add to the population that irritates me most." He ran his fingertips through your bangs, brushing back loose strands with gentle admiration. "At first, I considered ending your existence right there; however, curiosity filled me with the idea of taming such a powerful Creepypasta. I've been trying to balance your thoughts in order to retain your humanity. The task is far more challenging than I anticipated." Slenderman continued to caress your cranium, dancing his long fingers across your scalp as though he were trying to map out your brain.
      "So, that's why you've been acting strange," you narrowed your eyes at the being above. "And that's why I've been having those weird physical changes and mood swings." It wasn't just normal teenage hormones, as most adults would tell you. Granted, prior to all this Creepypasta business, it was exactly that case.
      Your master sat up, still straddling your ankles. He began to play with your face and lips in an examining manner. "Your transformation has been significantly slowed compared to a natural feral's beginnings. It's been an intriguing time studying you." He made it sound like you were his little science experiment. "I've learned so much studying your brainwaves and putting your through tasks."
      "Can you stop it," you asked. "The transformation. Or am I inevitably going to become a feral?"
      A hum buzzed in Slenderman's throat. "That part is what fascinates me most." A single tendril slithered from his back, and it swam its way through the air to your forehead. "During the last moments of our battle, my flickering tendril made contact with your skull. It penetrated through without any physical harm to either of us; however," he trailed off, possibly still trying to make sense of what had happened. "I presume that my fourth-dimensional energy had some sort of effect on your brain. Things seem to have balanced themselves between your human and feral consciousnesses. Perhaps the influence of time reversed the effects," his voice grew to a mumbled monologue. "Or an important portion of your brain is held in a limbo fashion." The tendril on your forehead gently searched every hair root, every pore, every curve of your cranium. 
      The sensation of a gentle touch soothed your aches - if only temporarily.  Your eyelids grew heavy; fighting them was nigh impossible. The hunched form of your master grew to a blurry silhouette, reminding you of the famous statue The Thinker. It was the last awakened thought before sleep took over while Slenderman's soft mumbles massaged your eardrums.