It makes you kill the vibe.

    “Right... I forgot. He'd probably want to rest. Do you think he'd want to be left alone? I couldn't exactly tell him I was coming over beings he didn't have his phone at the hospital.” Mary asks while popping her fingers. 

   Her dad shrugs, “Everybody handles grief differently, my dear,” he sighs, “I know you're an adult now but I'm still not thrilled with you being at his house. You know, with his dad and all.” Mary hums in response, her friend's dad has been an abusive alcoholic since they were kids. Her parents never let her stay over, instead letting her friend and his sister stay at their home. 

“Well if he lands a hand on me we can sue him into so much debt he kills himself.” Mary says nonchalantly, a small smirk hiding under her mask. 

“You never did have a filter...” Her dad affectionately pokes at her, resigning himself to the fact. 

The rest of the ride is quiet aside from the sound of their radio, a comfortable silence falling over them. Mary leans her head against the cool window, watching as the houses slowly turn into thick pine trees as they near his house. 

Mary looks as the sun's rays shine through the foliage, her face twisting with sadness as she takes in the sight. She wonders what it would feel like to have pure sunlight on her skin, to feel the warmth on her face, to actually see how colorful and bright the summer colors are without her blindfold obscuring her vision. But stepping outside for even a few minutes could seriously harm her incredibly delicate skin, leaving her with a terrible sunburn in a best case scenario. 

As they pull up in front of a pale blue house her mind stops racing, her eyes immediately landing on her friend as she notices the disdain on his face while looking at his own dad. She sees his arm is completely bandaged up, and the cuts on the right side of his face have almost healed. Mary immediately forgets her previous longing and grabs her bag and umbrella in a hurry. 

“Now remember he might not be-” The passenger door slamming shut cuts him off, “and she's gone..”

“Toby!” 

Mary runs up to his front porch to pull him into a tight hug. She’s not gentle in the slightest, well aware of Toby’s condition making him immune to pain. Toby’s intense hatred is momentarily forgotten as he tightly returns her hug. 

“You only saw me two days ago, you know?” Toby says, waving to Mary’s father in the car. 

“I know, but now you're home and I'm just so excited to have you back.” Mary tilts her head up as she speaks. Toby can hear the grin in her voice, smiling back at her as they pull back from the hug. “Oh! I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming. If you want to be alone for a few days I'll understand…” Mary mumbles, though her tone tells Toby everything he needs to know. 

If he says he wants to be alone she's going to cry, she's been like this since they were kids. If Toby told her no or that he needed space she'd break down and sob; though she would never demand she get her way, and would be completely fine afterwards. 

“You can stay. I mean you did get all covered up to be here when I got home.” Toby says before Mary gives her dad a thumbs up, letting him know he can go back home. Truthfully, he really did want to be alone. However after seeing his dad still here he feels it would be better to have her around, not wanting to stew in this feeling of bitter hatred. 

“Toby, you and Mary can go upstairs and I'll call you when dinner is ready. And Mary, I know you're excited but remember he needs to rest.” His mother Connie speaks up, Mary just nods and closes her umbrella before they start to go into the house. Under her mask though, she's rolling her eyes and silently huffing. 

She hates that she's being treated like an over-excited little kid. Mary had one incident when she was 12 where she got too excited to see Toby after 3 weeks apart. She’d accidentally knocked him over with a hug, busting his head off the coffee table so badly that he needed stitches.

“Great, his little freak is here to coddle him.” Mr. Rogers grumbles. 

“Ignore him.” Toby interrupts as he grabs her gloved hand, stumbling a bit up the stairs. He pulls her into his room, slamming the door behind them and accidentally making Mary jump at the sudden bang. “Shit, sorry Mary...” 

Toby apologizes, prompting Mary to nod a bit in response as Toby closes his curtains to prevent the sun’s rays from touching her. His room is quite small with only a bed, a dresser with a TV on it, but the wall by Toby's bed has polaroids of the two of them throughout the years. 

Some of them even have his sister hanging out with the two of them. 

Mary pulls down her hood, then her mask, revealing her snow white skin. Her lips almost look red against her skin as she smiles.

 “Ugh I can't wait to take all of this off.” She unwraps the black fabric around her eyes, her dark eyes blinking as she readjusts to her clear sight. She finally takes off all her layers, left standing in an intricately laced off-the-shoulder white dress and her black socks. She had always worn Victorian and Edwardian clothing, even since they were little kids. Mary takes her long hair out of her tight bun, allowing it to fall gently down to her waist.

“Well, at least you don't look like a cult leader now.” Toby jokes with her, before cracking his fingers. 

“Yeah, I feel a lot better,” Mary copies his tick subconsciously as she continues, “I brought some of my mom's old horror movies. And I have something for later when the sun goes down.” 

She grabs her bag and pulls out some movies, Toby smiling when she copies his tick; she's always mirroring him. He loves messing with her echolalia in return, whistling and snapping his fingers. Mary immediately whistles and clicks her tongue like Fantastic Mr. Fox. 

“Beep.”

“Boop.”

“Pop.”

“Everybody talk about pop music…stop that!” Mary demands, turning her head to face him with a mock pout.

Toby chuckles, sitting on the bed while Mary starts playing the 1931 Dracula. Mary sits to Toby’s left, instinctively reaching to cling to his arm but quickly hesitates as she remembers what her dad said. She can see the tiredness in his dark brown eyes, a hidden sadness lingering behind them. 

Mary frowns a bit but gives him some space, instead looking at a polaroid of the two of them with Lyra when they were younger. Lyra was trying to teach them some soccer moves after they’d begged her to teach them, but in the end it just turned into ‘lets see how hard we can kick this ball at each other.’ Toby obviously won despite having a bloody nose, Mary cried after Toby accidentally bloodied her nose and knocked a tooth out. 

She feels a sudden weight in her chest as the realization she's never going to see Lyra again begins to fully sink in. 

“Do you think this feeling ever goes away?” Toby quietly questions. Mary looks over at him, seeing he's now hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes are distant as he stares at the TV screen, Mary’s eyes focus on her hands as she plays with the skirt of her dress.

“I don't know. I've never lost someone that was close to me.” Mary answers honestly, “I mean I loved Lyra, but she wasn't my sister in the way she was to you. But I don't think the feeling goes away. I think you just maybe learn to get used to it? In a way?” Then she goes on a small tangent while trying to explain herself better, prompting Toby to put his hand on her head. Mary immediately goes quiet, a faint blush creeping across her pale cheeks. “Sorry… short answer is yes but no.”  

Tears start to prick her eyes as her mind races. ‘I'm supposed to be comforting him. But all I'm doing is annoying him like I always do because I can't shut the fuck up. If I cry that'll only make it worse and he'll be the one comforting me. Why do I always have to cry? Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just be the friend he needs instead of this?’ 

Toby notices the way Mary is staring down at her hands, her knuckles white from her tight grip on her skirt. He hates seeing her cry; not because it annoys him, but because she's always been his one and only friend. The only one that never picked on him the short couple of years he went to public school. 

No, she loved that he was ‘weird’ in his own way, just as she was. Toby doesn't say anything, instead reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers, a silent invitation for Mary to cling to his arm as she always does. 

Mary hesitantly holds onto his arm, rubbing her face against the fabric of his white t-shirt covering his shoulder. Her hand accidentally brushes against his scrub pants from his hospital stay, flinching away as if she's been burnt. Immediately seeing her reaction to the texture, Toby grabs the blanket and drapes it over his legs. Their hands rest between them comfortably, now that Mary doesn't have to touch the offensive texture. 

Some time after the halfway point in their movie, Toby feels Mary leaning more heavily against him. He looks down to see her sleeping peacefully, a small smile forming on his face before reaching with his free hand to twirl her hair around his finger. During the summer Mary sleeps during the day, she must be exhausted. She covered herself head to toe to ward off the sun and even stayed up during the hours she's normally asleep just for him. 

Toby lays her down on his pillow, adjusting her legs so they're laid across his lap. She looks like a painting a vampire would keep of his wife. Toby places his hand on her lower thigh and  begins to trace absent minded patterns on her soft skin, his other hand twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. 

Playing with her hair has always been a comfort of his, he loves the texture of her silky locks between his fingers. He remembers when he'd get bad anxiety in school, she'd let him play with her hair while she mirrored his ticks. He grimaces when remembering one particularly bad day where Mary had to get up and he grabbed her hair to yank her back down, Mary started crying before Toby realized what he did and started apologizing profusely. 

Once the movie was over Toby just let the menu play on, he didn't want to get up and change the DVD. He enjoyed the silence for the moment, watching Mary's face as she slept. She really ruined her sleep schedule by visiting him at the hospital almost every day, the dark circles under her eyes more profoundly pronounced against her skin, making her appear as if she were a walking corpse. 

He tries to focus on her sleeping form, wanting to keep his mind from drifting once more. The harder he tries to push the thoughts away the louder he can hear tires screeching, glass breaking, and worst of all his sister’s terrified screams. Tears begin streaming down his face as he sobs quietly, pulling his hands away to grip at his messy brown hair, the room silent aside from his sniffles and the DVD menu looping on the TV. 

After a couple hours Connie calls them downstairs for dinner, Toby crying on and off in the meantime. He wipes his puffy reddened eyes before gently waking Mary up, going downstairs together. As they enter the kitchen Toby sits across from his dad, his mom making him a plate. Connie is about to make Mary a plate, though his dad roughly interrupts.

“She's an adult, let the little freak get her own food.” His father grumbles. 

“She's still a guest.” Connie defends, looking at Mary with a smile you'd give a child to soothe them, “You can sit down dear.”

Mary sees four chairs at their dinner table, knowing the extra seat was for Lyra makes the prospect of sitting there feel strange but obliges anyway. Everyone picks at their food, aside Toby who hasn't touched his plate. He's blankly staring at his dad until his mom gently elbows him, Mary can feel the thick tension in the room, gripping the skirt of her dress tightly with her free hand as she hesitantly eats. 

Mary opens the curtains and opens the window to Toby's room after the sun has finally set below the horizon, sitting on the bed and reaching over to grab her bag.

“You ready for the extra thing I brought?” Mary asks with a cheesy smile.

Toby props his elbow on the window sill with a small smirk, “Is it weed?”

“Of course it's weed. You know me so well.” Mary giggles, grabbing a dark red glass bong with a silicone bowl in it. “I also have two brownies.” 

The room is soon filled with bubbling sounds, coughs, then quiet giggles. After the bowl is gone they each have a whole brownie, and about an hour later they've both melted to his bed while watching Rosemary's Baby. 

“Could you imagine having Satan's child?” Toby asks while playing with a strand of her hair.

“I think I'd be flattered that Satan chose me specifically.” Mary quickly answers.

“Of course you would, you weirdo.” Toby comments affectionately, followed by a chuckle.

“Okay TICCI you gonna go sit in a corner and twitch while yelling random curse words?” Mary retorts playfully, Toby reaching for his bottle of cold water and places it on her neck as revenge for her comment. Mary gasps and flinches, “Ah! Stop! That's cold and it hurts!” 

“Oh you poor thing.” Toby says mockingly while holding her in place, “Maybe you should apologize.”

“Okay! Okay! I'm sorry!” Mary gives in while they start laughing, their playful banter interrupted by a knock on the door. Toby and Mary immediately freeze, scrambling to get off each other as Mary quickly hides her bong right before his mom comes in. They both sit up on the bed, trying not to look or act stoned out of their minds. 

“Mary, could you step out for a second so I can talk to him? I promise it won't be long,” Connie asks in a tone you'd use when talking to a child. The way Connie speaks to her really grates against Mary’s ears, but she just nods and stands up without a word. Toby gives her a silent look of ‘I'm too high for this’ as Mary tries not to laugh while stepping out of his room. 

After what feels like forever, Connie finally comes out of his room. Mary goes in and sees Toby’s sullen face, approaching his bed and sitting close beside him again. 

“Are you okay?”

Toby shakes his head with a bitter laugh, more of a huff really, before answering fully.

“Oh just the basic, ‘things will get better’ talk. And saying that the dick head downstairs is probably staying.” Toby rolls his eyes before cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. 

“I'm sorry, my Toby.”

Mary hugs him tightly while being mindful of his injured arm, he clings to her as if she's going to disappear, sobbing against her chest. She's held him so many times while he cried growing up, she starts to play with his hair and stays quiet to let him speak. 

“I just want my sister back.” Toby manages to choke out through the sobs.

“I know… I wish I could make it better for you.” Mary softly responds.

“Just don't let me go.” Toby whispers into her chest, after some time his sobs slowly turn into whimpers and sniffles before stopping all together. He stays by her side, twirling her hair to calm down more, and with a deep breath he finally pulls away from her soaked dress before looking out the window. He looks across the street near the pine trees, his eyes drifting to the street lamp. 

His eyes suddenly widen as he sees a pale figure almost as tall as the post itself standing under the light. 

“What are you looking at?” Mary asks, moving to his side and following his gaze to the faceless figure. Both of them start hearing ringing in their ears, for a minute Mary can't seem to break her silent staredown with the figure before she finally snaps herself out of it, the ringing getting even louder when she finally looks away.

“Ugh, Toby-” Mary tries to speak to him while covering her ears, seemingly unable to get his attention, “Toby!” 

She begins feeling extremely dizzy as her vision warps and twists, quickly closing the curtains before Toby suddenly blacks out, Mary following soon after.

Mary wakes up the next day when she feels Toby stir beneath her, rolling off of him before they both sit up. She feels off, her head doesn't have a million thoughts racing at a time like she normally would. The only thing she can think is, something isn't right. 

She looks over at Toby and sees how empty his eyes are, like he's not completely there. Toby stands up, stumbling over himself and leaning against the wall for support, Mary automatically following him. Despite feeling like she's in a found footage movie her instincts are telling her to be near him, that there's something wrong with him too. She can't even bring herself to speak, it's like the feeling of going nonverbal but worse. She felt as if she spoke she'd pass out again. 

They both stumble down the stairs, into the kitchen where his parents are. Mary’s vision is tunneled and all she can really register is Toby accidentally startling his mom, standing behind her silently as she reads the newspaper. His mom tries to speak to him, with no response from him. 

Toby sits beside his dad, who doesn’t move his attention from their small TV. Mary has red flags going off in her head, unable to react to it in the moment. Toby never sits beside his dad. Connie tries to talk to Mary, though all she really hears is “Sorry…ran out of eggs.” Mary looks past her and nods, noticing the time is one o’clock in the afternoon. Her eyes naturally drift back to Toby, his hand reaching out for his dad, which then roughly gets smacked away. His dad then kicks him out of the chair, Mary reacting so fast she hardly knows how she got to him before he landed on the floor. Toby's head fell to her lap, that blank look in his eyes still there as he gazes up at her. 

Something is definitely wrong with him. 

As the days went on, Mary more or less went back to being her normal self. Although she's more prone to fits of rage, especially when it comes to Toby. She noticed that he spends all his time in his bedroom, then after a week of being in the same clothes he’d come home from the hospital in, she’d forced him to take a shower and brush his teeth. When Toby started chewing on his fingers she'd dip his hands in rubbing alcohol, cleaning the wounds and to deter his incessant chewing. Some days Mary was on autopilot, though she could still think somewhat clearly. She often felt this odd craving for something, unable to figure out what it was. She tried to satisfy it with sex, drugs, even harming herself but nothing seemed to quench this insatiable new craving. 

Mary often got into yelling matches with Toby’s mom, begging her to take him to see a psychiatrist. Connie would just retort with ‘she's the mom and he's seeing a counselor.’ One day after flying into a rage over their incompetence Mary had accidentally punched a hole in their wall, her own parents paying for the repairs. 

Toby was texting her less and less, when she'd visit him she had a hard time understanding what he was saying half the time. On one visit with him, he talked about seeing ghosts outside of his window, or seeing Mary sitting in the corner of his room just staring at him with that gentle smile of hers. 

Mary took it upon herself to read any psychology and mental illness book she could get her hands on, she thought his mom was completely useless in her quest to help Toby. She was slowly losing her best friend right before her eyes, determined to help him through this. She started to visit some patients at the local mental health facilities to get more personalized and in-depth information, earning the nickname Mother Mary for her kind and non-judgmental nature that shone through while speaking with them. 

Connie finally gave in to Mary’s insistence to take Toby to a psychiatrist, and Mary attending the session with them. Connie didn't exactly have a choice to let Mary tag along, seeing as she didn't want to risk another hole in her wall. Once in the office, Mary takes off her eye coverings and pulls down her cloth mask, Connie sitting beside Toby at the table and Mary leaning against the wall. Toby begins chewing at the bandages protecting his fingers to free them, Mary noticing immediately and gently taking his hands into her own. He looks up at her with those big doe eyes, before leaning his head against her stomach. 

The doctor comes in with a clipboard and a pen, Mary tries to pull away from Toby so he can talk to her, unable to move away as he grips her hands tighter. 

“Don't leave me.” He whispers. 

“You must be Toby and his mother. Who are you?” The doctor asks, looking to Mary. 

Mary bites her tongue to keep from blurting out ‘I'm the only fucking competent person in his life’ and instead answers with the much tamer response, “I'm a friend.” 

The doctor nods, her eyes drifting down to Toby's bandaged hands. Mary notices the subtle discomfort in her eyes as the doctor sits across the table, starting to ask him basic questions; his name, how old he is, and his birthday. The last question makes Toby grip Mary's hands tighter. 

“Who's your immediate family?” She asks

“My mom, my dad,” he swallows the lump in his throat, “my sister and-” he cuts himself off. Toby wants to add Mary to the list, she's always been there for him, always fought the hardest for him. Whether it was punching someone who picked on him, or more recently yelling at his mom to demand answers about his health. 

“I'm sorry about your sister hun. That must've been hard.” The doctor says with a look of sympathy, Toby just nodding in response before she asks her next question. 

“Do you remember the crash?”

Mary feels her patience running thin with these inane questions. ‘For fucks sake, just ask him about his hallucinations! The bandages on his hands! Ask him anything that would give you answers!’ She thinks to herself, before she and Toby get a faint ringing in their ears. The doctor gently tries to get his attention, seemingly unable to get through to him. The ringing gets louder, making them both look around the room. Mary doesn't see anything, Toby's eyes widening in sheer terror as he looks through the small window in the door to the office. Mary can feel her rage growing by the moment. 

“Toby!” The doctor exclaims, causing Toby to jump and fall backwards out of his seat. Mary immediately catches him as he clings to her, Toby cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders repeatedly. The doctor stands up in surprise as his ticks become more frequent from his heightened anxiety. In the end, the doctor ruled the visit inconclusive, Mary's anger boils over after she sits Toby back in his seat after hearing the decision. 

“What the fuck do you mean inconclusive?! Look at him, he needs help!” She yells. “Any Goddamn idiot with a brain could tell you he's showing psychosis-like symptoms and has schizophrenic traits! SO FUCKING HELP HIM!” Mary screams at her. She starts to hear whispers, images of her slamming the doctor's head into the table over and over again start to play in her mind. Mary winces, bringing a hand up to her head and holding tight as she shoves the thoughts and whispers away. 

Later that night, Toby is sleeping with his head resting on Mary’s body like she was his personal pillow, though she hasn’t slept a wink. She’s exhausted, her sleep schedule hardly exists anymore, all her free time consumed by her efforts to find out how to help Toby. She's already looking at other psychiatrists in the area, as the first one was clearly an idiot. The bright screen of her phone makes her eyes tired, in the end she ends up falling asleep with it still in her hands. 

Mary only sleeps a couple of hours before Toby abruptly sits up and screams, she quickly jerks up and pulls him to her chest. 

“Shh shh, it's okay I'm here. It was just a nightmare.” Mary softly comforts him while stroking his cheek with her thumb. Toby pushes her down on the bed, laying his head on her chest so he can listen to the rhythm of her heartbeat. She holds him close, running her fingers through his messy hair. “My Toby, this is where you belong. Right here with me. No one else,” she whispers sweetly, “everyone else is too stupid to take care of you my darling”. 

“Hmm, right here with you...” Toby mumbles in a raspy voice while burying his face in the crook of her neck, “My Mary.” 

With a deep breath Toby sits up, running his hand through his hair. Mary quickly notices that the fog in his eyes is gone. “I feel.. .so much better. Like I'm not on autopilot anymore.” He says with a small smile. 

Mary feels a small glimmer of hope, sitting up to hug him tightly. “I'm so glad… I was so scared. But no matter what happened I was never leaving your side. You're mine.” Mary's voice is muffled as she hides her face in his hair. 

Toby chuckles as he returns her tight hug. “When did you get possessive?” He asks jokingly.

“When I saw how fucking useless your parents are.” Mary's voice drips with resentment. 

“Mary, my mom tried her best… she just didn't know how to deal with it.” Toby defends gently. 

“That's not an excuse! All she did was bandage your hands and keep you in her sight! I was the one that would put alcohol on your hands to make sure you didn't rip your bandages off! I was the one that forced you to take care of yourself better! I was surviving on three to four hours of sleep a day between doing research, visiting the mental health facility, and visiting you! She didn't lose any sleep!” Mary raises her voice while adding on, “I was constantly fighting with your mom to get you help way sooner than today but she wouldn't listen to me!” 

Toby sighs, cupping her face to wipe a tear away. “You really did all of that for me huh? Mary, you look like shit. You've been so focused on me that you haven't even taken care of yourself. You look beyond exhausted darling.” He gently says, studying her face.

Toby's right. Mary is exhausted both physically and mentally, the dark circles under her eyes look black against her pale skin and her usually neat hair is now a complete mess. 

“Come on, let's go get some water and go to bed. Tomorrow I'll take care of you like you've been doing for me these past few weeks.” Toby stands up, holding her hands and gently pulling to help her up as they quietly go downstairs to the kitchen. 

They stop around the corner, given pause as they smell thick smoke lingering in the air, looking past to see his dad in the kitchen smoking a cigarette. Mary starts to feel a slight buzzing in her head, a surge of anger moving through her. Mary shakes her head, trying to get rid of the feeling but it doesn't stop the rage from building. Toby hides behind the corner, silently holding himself and shaking. It looks like the fog is slowly returning in his eyes, Mary notes. 

“Toby?” Mary whispers, gently holding his face to get a better look at him. Her eyebrows furrow with worry, Toby just looks up at her with a silent plea for help before his eyes darken and fog over again. 

That's it. She's lost him again. A few tears fall down her face as she leans to push their foreheads together. 

“Toby...” She whimpers. 

A gentle yet eerie smile creeps across Toby’s face, his hands hold her face and wipe her tears away. 

“Come on darling,  you know I hate it when you cry.” He whispers, before kissing both of her cheeks. “You'd do anything for me right?” He questions, pulling Mary to his chest and holding her as he strokes her hair. 

Mary nods, ”Anything.” She affirms. 

“I need you to stay right here, and don't try to stop me.” Toby whispers in her ear, Mary's blood runs cold from his request. She sees the oddly calm look in his clearly manic eyes, and knows exactly what he's trying to do. He's gone. He's really gone now. 

“You… you can't do that… Toby, you're not a murderer. Y-you would never do that. I want him dead too but-” Mary tries to look up at him but Toby pulls her head back down to the crook of his neck. 

“Hush, my dear, I'm talking.” Toby interrupts, continuing to stroke her hair. “Once he's dead, I won't have to stay and protect my mom anymore. We can run away and it'll be just me and you!” 

Toby’s words make her head feel fuzzy, like she's going back into autopilot. Mary just nods in response, hugging him tightly before pulling away a few moments later. Toby kisses her forehead, then begins to sneak into the kitchen. Her inner voice is telling her to stop him, that this isn't Toby, that he wouldn't want this, but her feet remain glued to the spot. All she can do is squeeze her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see her best friend turn into something nearly unrecognizable to her. 

His promise of them going off by themselves sounds like a dream come true, but not like this, never like this. She knows she has to find a way to save him, to get her Toby back.  

She hears a loud thud, then his dad yelling at him, followed by the inevitable sickening squelch of a knife being plunged into a body. Over, and over, and over again…

Soon after a warm, inviting scent hits her nostrils that makes her mouth water so much she can’t help but drool. Mary's mind goes blank, moving from her hiding spot around the corner. She zones in on the blood pooling around Toby’s now dead father, the dark red is a stark contrast to the pale kitchen tiles and the smell is too enticing for her to ignore.

Mary gets on her knees and in an instant grabs his father’s wrist. A primal urge to sink her teeth into the inviting sanguine flesh, starting in her chest and spreading rapidly until she can’t resist any further. Hot blood flows down her throat, she can't stop herself now, drinking until she can’t anymore. It's better than any drug she's ever tried, better than sex, and even more satisfying than self harm. This is what she's been craving all this time, blood. 

She pulls away, panting heavily and hardly able to catch her breath, blood soaking the front of her black dress. A pounding headache makes Mary hiss as she winces, holding her head to quell the horrible feeling. Her eyes start to leak crimson tears, her canines elongate into fangs, and even her fingernails sharpen into claws and blacken in an instant. 

“Oh, look at you.” Toby chuckles deeply, gently tilting her chin up with his bloodied hand. “There's not a drop on your pretty lips. Though your dress is a mess from kneeling in that pool of blood...”

From behind them they can hear a blood curdling scream of horror, snapping their heads to see Toby's mother. Mary immediately stands up with her hands slightly raised, looking at Toby and for a second she swears she can see the fog dissipate from his eyes, but it's back just as quickly as it had left. 

Toby grabs Mary's hand, running to the garage where he slams his hand against the button to open the doors. He shoves a can of gasoline in her hand, grabbing matches and the two hatchets kept on the wall. He holds them in one hand, holding her hand with the other they run out of his garage and across the street into the woods. They start to hear sirens in the distance, prompting Toby to order her to start pouring the gasoline. 

Her mind is spinning from everything, but follows his orders. As soon as the can is empty Toby strikes a match and drops it into the pool of gas, the trail bursts into flames and soon the trees around them begin to burn. 

“Toby, we need to leave now!” Mary yells, trying to get him to move, but he won't budge. “TOBY!” She screams before he finally looks at her. He pulls her in for a tight hug, the flames getting bigger around them.

“My Mary, I-” He's cut off when he feels an icy touch on his shoulder. They both look up to see the faceless figure towering over them, Toby blacking out before the figure grips his limp body by the hood. 

Mary hears quiet ringing in her ears, she scowls at whatever this thing is in front of her. It starts to take Toby away from her, and she's stuck in place. She can't move no matter how badly she wants to run to get to Toby. 

“GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!” Mary screams. 

She hears what sounds like a hundred dark whispers bouncing around in her head, “He belongs to me now.”