Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

A Friend Once Lost

I'm a monster, aren't I?

"Welcome back, Skulker," Jane crows as I warp into the living room of the mansion with Slenda.

Slenda takes her hand off my shoulder and places it on my head, picking out a piece of brain matter from my hair as Jane stands up.

"A gun? Really? I thought you were the quiet one," she walks up to me and brushes off the dirt from my hoodie before grabbing the pistol from my pocket.

She waves it in my face, the safety still off, "Why not the knife?"

I stand there shell shocked, seeing the powdery discharge from the pistol on my hands and the muzzle flashes in the darkness, "I... I didn't want them to die in pain."

The sound of the man's screaming floods back into my mind, and Slenda's hand freezes.

"Jane, dear, it is late. Go to sleep; you have a mission tomorrow," she advises.

Jane crosses her arms, "Did I not just go on one?"

Slenda waves her off, "I will not hear it."

Not daring to challenge Slenda's authority, Jane walks to the foot of the staircase, but not without showing me a worried glance. Slenda takes my blood-spattered jacket, and I place the bullet casings on the coffee table. I stare at them until Slenda catches my distant attention with a pat on my shoulder.

"Come with me. There is someone who you must see before you shower and rest -- our resident doctor, Ann," Slenda remarks.

Nodding silently, I follow behind her without looking back at the casings as we enter the medical room adjacent to the kitchen. The room is dimly lit on one side except for the space filled with hospital beds on the other. To the left of the doorway we enter from, there's a counter and windowed cabinets, all of which containing numerous medical supplies from hemostatics to antibiotics.

From the shadows emerges the household nurse, Ann, who possesses a peculiar, ghostly gloom in her eyes. She's like a corpse who just walked out of a morgue, and she stares at a blood bag, spinning a scalpel in her hand with experienced handling.

Ann meets my eyes and snorts, "This one does not impress me, Slenderwoman. Are you sure you do not want me to euthanize him?"

There's a moment of silence between Slenda and Ann which is ended by the latter's exhausted sigh, "Yes, I know. You do not have to tell me twice. Come here, Skulker," she pats a seat next to her.

Her hostility makes me hesitant to sit beside her. Nevertheless, I'll be fine as long as Slenda's here, right? After sitting down, Ann reaches down to my leg, and I finally notice the length of wood jutting out of my calf.

"I don't even feel it," I whisper.

My nurse puts on a fresh pair of gloves and yanks it out.

"Fucking bitch!" I blurt out, grasping my leg.

Slenda seizes Ann's arm and gets close to her face, "What the hell are you doing? If you harm our new Proxy needlessly, I will see to it that Angel cuts off your head once more!"

The nurse scoffs but does not say another word to her. No one speaks as Ann performs the rest of her doctorly duties of picking out splinters and applying rubbing alcohol and a bandage.

She takes off her gloves and looks over the rest of my body, "Any pains? Aches? Odd sensations? Do you feel sick?"

"No," I admit as I inspect my wound, "Nothing."

She nods and continues to stare at me, "You seem to have recovered fairly quickly from any mental damage, though those sorts of effects remain to be seen until further down the line. Considering your responsiveness, at least. Slenda?"