stuuurb

SAL FISHER

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LARRY JOHNSON

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ASHLEY CAMPBELL

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TRAVIS PHELPS

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JEFFERY WOODS

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TOBY ROGERS

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B.E.N.

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JACK NYRAS

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The sea of people bump and shove into you as you walk through the club, rattling you side to side. You didn’t mind, this was the average night for you. But the area was different. Tonight was the opening of the brand new club, ‘By Proxy’. Every face you recognized and every face recognized you. Other than one.

Leaning against the farthest wall, tucked into the darkness, was a man. He looked too much and too little all at once. His clothing was too boring for a club, a plain white hoodie decorated with splatters of crimson fake blood. Two long slices dug into his cheeks on the corners of his mouth. They were some of the best prosthetics you’d seen. Some people at these clubs loved the gorey, murder-doll look so this wasn’t a surprising sight. Boring, tattered black jeans hung low on his hips. And his hair, long and jet-black, shaggy and tossed just perfectly.

A cigarette hung out of his pink lips, eyes half-lidded. To say the least, you were curious. And, frankly, not knowing someone in this scene was not good. If you’re out of date on one thing, you’re as good as roadkill.

You push past small circles of people, avoiding any and all of their accessories shooting out into the air. You make your way to him and grab the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers. You place it between yours and breathe in.

“Um– the fuck?” He barks too loud over the music, eyebrows furrowing.

“Do you mind?” You question, taking it from your lips to your fingers, blowing the smoke into the confined air.

“Yeah, I fucking mind.” He spits, snatching the cigarette from you. Ash from the end drifts down onto your platforms. You groan and brush it off. “Instead of stealing cigarettes from me, you could buy some coke from me.”

You scoff, “Is that really your attempt to make me buy from you? If anything, you should let me get a bump for free. That ash messed up my platforms.” You continue to brush your fingers across the leather of the toe of your shoes. He groans.

“Alright, fine.” He jabs, hand moving from his side to dig into his jean pockets. His lanky, ghost-white fingers pull out a small baggie filled to near the brim with that familiar powder. He tosses the bag at you, you grab it quick before another junkie can steal it mid-air.

“You giving me this much for free?” You whisper-yell, shoving the bag into the waistband of your colored tights.

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t fuckin’ mention it, I’m gonna regret it.”

You smirk and nod, “Who are you? I’ve never seen you around.”

“Uh– Jeff. I’ve been more of an observer, just now comin’ in.”

“People call that a stalker.” You exclaim over the music and voices. “So what? You’re a dealer, correct?”

He snickers, hands burying themselves into his pockets, “Kinda. I want the money and I got drugs. Lots of it.”

Your eyes widen. Drugs. Lots of it. Jeff. New kid. Project. The plan was genius. You get Jeff to be the best, most well known dealer in the club kid scene, you get famous and free drugs. The thought was intoxicating.

“Y’know, Jeffery, I can get you money.”

His bloodied, scabby smile stretches longer across his face as the corners of his lips curl.

It was a plan.

— ∘◦ ⦻

The bang of knuckles to wood radiated through the room, causing you to jump. You smirk, abandoning the lines of white on your coffee table to open the front door. It swings open and Jeff stands on the other side. He wears the same thing as he did when you first met him, yet more crimson stains splay across it. His makeup is the same too, the fake cuts adorned in fake dried blood beside the corners of his lips.

“Jeffery, come in.”

“Don’t call me Jeffery.” He hisses, walking past you into the apartment.

“Someone’s cranky. Treat yourself.” You exclaim, pointing to the lines. His eyebrows raise, collapsing to his knees in front of the table as he were about to pray. He shuts a nostril with his finger and glides the tip of his nose across the table. The line vanishes. He groans and rises to his feet again, looking back to you with half-lidded eyes.

“We need to fix this mess you’ve got on you.” You mutter, eyes scanning up and down him.

“Fucks’ wrong with it?” He retorts, glaring down to his torso.

“It’s bland, it’s boring. You wanna get anywhere, you need to demand attention.” You snark back. You walk past him and down the short hallway to your bedroom. He follows. Your apartment was always the last thing to get treated which was deathly obvious from the peeling wallpaper, crooked frames and clothing and accessories tossed in corners. Your room was even worse, clothing and fabric piled against the wall. Miscellaneous drawings and stains decorated the colorfully painted walls. It was a mess. You never minded.

You dig through the piles, looking back to Jeff for ideas till you pull out a tank top, lines of spray paint splattered all across it.

“I’m not fucking wearing that.”

You groan and throw it back. It was gonna be hard to get him to budge. You scour through the depths for a bit longer till you find a white button up. It was too big for you (which was the look) but it was boring, better than that wretched hoodie. You hold it up in front of his face with a smile.

“Uh– alright, fine.” He mumbles, crossing his arms and pulling the hoodie and t-shirt over his head. Scars and wounds, old and fresh, adorn his flesh. Burn marks coated the pale skin, lifted and dented in different patterns. One sticks out to you. A lifted scar, similar to a burn, in the shape of a circle with an ‘x’ through it sits low on his hips, the bottom half of it covered by his jeans. His body slouches a bit, his arms cave in slightly, as if he were shrinking. You avert your eyes, deciding against questioning and throw the shirt to him. He grabs it mid-air and slips it on, buttoning it up from bottom to top. He leaves the two top buttons unbuttoned. You nod slowly.

“Yep, that’s it. Needs some refining.” You walk past him and to the desk sitting in front of your bed. A sewing machine sits in the middle of it, a garment you were making still attached to it by a thread. You shove away spools of thread to find a pair of scissors. You find them under the mess and lift them up, walking over to Jeff.

“Woah– woah– what are you doing?” He barks, backing away.

“Stay still.” You scoff, grabbing the bottom of the button up and pulling him back to you. You open the scissors and slice right through the bottom of the shirt.

“Fuck are you doing?” He yells, arms up in surrender as you cut through the fabric like paper. You walk about him in a circle, slicing till the access fabric falls to Jeff’s ankles.

“It looks better cropped.”

He groans, staring down at his abdomen. It was barely cropped, a small sliver of his lower stomach on display. “For fuck’s sake.” He mutters under his breath. You ignore him, walking over to a different pile on the floor. This one was accessories. Spikes from bracelets and harness clawed at your fingers and wrists till your fingers brush what you need. You tug out a leg harness which connects from your belt to your thigh. You throw it behind you to him.

“Put it on.”

He sighs as a response but the clanking of metal makes you smirk. You find a few miscellaneous bracelets to put on him and stand up, looking to him. He was truly becoming a club kid. You pass him the bracelets and watch as he clicks them on. “You look so much better. Still boring but better.”

He snickers, rolling his eyes a bit. “Yeah, thanks.” He taunts sarcastically. He was ready.

Now he’s just gotta wait for you.

— ∘◦ ⦻

After 2 hours, about 100 to Jeff, of you getting your clothes prepared and makeup perfect, you were ready. You even convinced Jeff to let you do a slight bit of black eyeshadow on him. But standing beside you, he was bland.

You guys walked as a pair down the streets of the city, earning you disgusted and confused stares by passersby. You finally reached ‘By Proxy’ after a painful walk in platforms and, fuck. It was buzzing. About every face was familiar, it was the largest gathering of the club kids of the year. And you couldn’t wait to show off your new project.

You pushed into the club, tugging Jeff by the wrist behind you. “Now, Jeffery, we need to make our first lap. We must talk to everyone.” You yelled over the music and talk. You shoved till you reached one of your dear friends, Sin. The name was corny, you knew that and so did he but that’s why it was cool.

“Hun, who is this?” Sin yelped, wrapping his arms around you in a hug as you came closer.

“This is Jeffery, the new IT boy!” You lowered your tone, “He’s the new dealer, you know. Can’t believe you don’t know of him.”

Sin gasped, breath hitching as he moved past you to encase Jeff in his arms. “Oh my goodness, Jeffery! How nice to meet you! I just love your makeup– so gorey!”

Jeff’s face twists to something repulsed and shocked all at once. This was new. He didn’t understand this. He squirmed in Sin’s arms, fighting to be released. “Ay– if you want shit, you can’t cling to me like that, alright?”

Sin backed away, a pathetic grin on his face. His face was painted in blue polka dots topped with bright green eyeshadow. He wore huge shoulder pads, the kind football players wore as well as a pair of striped shorts. He looked wild to the average eye. He was normal to the club kids. “Of course– now, can I get some K?”

Jeff glances to you, as if he’s asking for permission. It almost felt too easy to control this new project of yours. And you loved it. “Let poor, old Sin get a bag for free.” You smirk, hand slapping gently on Jeff’s bicep. He scowls, beginning to claw through his jean pockets. Sin bounces in place, clapping his hands.

“Thank you so much, both of you!” Sin yelps, grabbing the tiny baggie from Jeff’s hands the second it emerges from the denim. Jeff sucks his teeth as Sin pushes into the crowd with his new treasure.

“Do they all act like this?” He mutters, turning to face you again. You roll your eyes.

“Shush. But yes.” You snark back, snickering a bit. You turn around and dive back into the crowd and Jeff follows.

It was gonna be a long night. At least for Jeff.

— ∘◦ ⦻

You sit on the toilet lid in a stall in the women’s bathroom as Jeff stood in front of you, lighter held up to the joint hanging from your lips.

“Shit, you really got everything.” You mutter, inhaling the first puff with a groan. He snickers, standing back up straight. The stall door is open, other club kids peering into the stall to investigate.

“I’m always at the ready.” He snarks, voice slower than normal. You were now realizing that on drugs (specifically K), he let himself go. Relax. Even for the few hours you’ve known him, it was nice to see him let go of that god-forsaken tough, angry guy exterior. His shoulders slouched more, more fluid as he slumped against the metal wall.

“How much have you sold tonight?” You mumble through closed lips as you inhale.

He shrugs, hands digging through his pockets. “Heh– all of it.” He tugs one hand back out to reveal a wad of cash. Yes, it’s probably only thick because it’s only ones but it’s something. The strategy you and Jeff settled on was to start cheap because the cheaper, the more people will come. And when more people come, you up the prices and explain to the club kid junkies that “Oh– it’s nothing against you but you have to understand with the economy nowadays!” and they’d mindlessly pass a 20 dollar bill. It’s genius.

You jump up from the toilet seat, clapping your hands and cheering. “It’s working! See, you just needed me around.” You tease. He smacks your shoulder, eyes half-lidded with a drunken smirk.

“Fuck off.”

“You should move in with me.”

He hesitates ever-so-slightly before shrugging. “Okay. Wait—“ He stops to think before starting again.

“Did I ever even get your name?”

thank you for reading!

You chose “Let Toby Go Alone”.

You could leave with him, start a new life. As a fugitive. As much as you despise the bustle of average life, risking losing it is too much for you. You can’t bear this much change. So you won’t.

“I’m not going.” You mutter, looking behind your shoulder at Toby. His posture falls a bit. He clenches his jaw. His head collides with his shoulder as he nods.

He bites his lip with a nod, looking away from you. “Y-yeah?” He stutters.

“ON THE COUNT OF THREE, WE BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN.” The familiar voice of the officer outside screams, sounding even closer than before. You hear them shuffle outside over the sirens.

It’s like a flip within him switched. Without another word, he walks around the bed, towering above you. He grabs the lamp off of the bedside table, cord ripping from the wall. Rigid cords threaten to break out from the skin of his neck.

“Call it fast but I sa-saw myself car-caring for you one day if I ever sa-saw y-you again. So muh-much for that.”

Oh fuck.

He’s going to kill you.

You crawl over the bed and run into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. He slams his body against the door, attempting to break it open. You twist the lock and back yourself against the farthest wall, panting like a dog.

“3.” The police officer blares outside. Toby lunges his body at the wooden door, failing to break it down again. You scan every corner of the bathroom, looking for something to throw if he gets in.

“2.”

You decide on the lid of the toilet. You grab the heavy porcelain off from the top of the toilet and hold it like a baseball bat, ready to ram it into his head if need be. He slams against the door again and you feel your eyes wet, vision beginning to blur.

“1.”

A piercing pound echoes through the room, the sound of wood breaking and the clamour of what sounded like 100 voices pour into the motel room. Toby screams into the mess, raspy curses spilling from his throat. His body collapses to the floor like dominos, officers pinning him to the pointy carpeted floor. The racket of Toby fighting, trying to free himself from the officers is all you hear. They lift Toby from the floor, the clatter of handcuffs clicking shut pin into your ears. You creep closer to the door, slowly unlocking it, fingers shaking more than you knew they could. It creaks open. Toby is led from the room by officers, hands placed on his shoulders while his wrists stay knit together by the metal. The lamp he held lays on the floor, the lightbulb inside the lampshade shattered. The light from the cars outside reflects on the glass, shining up onto your face. That’s when he turns.

His eyes meet yours, a small crease bending at the corners of his eyes. Time slows, everyone else fades as if it were just you and him. He lifts his head up, gash on display. His lips open and he mouths, “I’ll see you again.” And he stares till he’s out of sight.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

You glance away from the doorway, an officer jogs over to you, eyebrows curled in worry. You look to the window, the same yellowed curtains hang and you imagine Toby on the other side.

— ∘◦ ⦻

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N). I’m so sorry.”

You sit on the couch of your old best friend’s couch, Sloane. She picked you up from the motel after the cops allowed you to go. This is where you were supposed to be. She sets a glass of water on the coffee table, sitting herself next to you.

“Hey– was he hot at least?”

You scoff and smack her arm, falling back onto the cushions. The room is lit by orange-bulbed lamps, Sloane was always weird about the ‘big lights’. It was cozy. But still felt off. Everything felt off.

“I’ll let you get some sleep, you need it. You still okay camping out on the couch?” She asks, rising from the couch.

You nod, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, I’m good. Thank you.”

She tilts her head with a smile before turning around, shutting off a few lights on the way out. Her footsteps fade and she shuts herself in her bedroom.

You lay down, staring up to the ceiling. You knew you wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight, especially not with the feeling as if someone were watching you staying all night.

— ∘◦ ⦻

The sound of the television wakes you. Guess you managed to fall asleep. You blink your eyes awake to see Sloane. She sat by your feet on the couch, leaned forward with a look of shock. You sit yourself up a bit, Sloane’s gaze shooting over to you.

“Is this the guy?”

“Huh?” You mumble, looking over to the TV. A newscaster sits at a table beside another, hands held together on top of it. A photo hovers next to one of their heads. A photo of Toby. It’s old. A young Toby, you’d guess sixteen years old. Others stand behind him but it’s cropped onto him, a bandage covering where the gash would be. He’s forcing a smile.

His hair is tousled, scattered across his forehead. His eyebrows curl with sadness, purple bags hanging under his young eyes.

You scoot back further, shoving your back to the armrest. “Yeah, uhm. Yeah– that’s him.”

“–he has been identified as Tobias Rogers who was claimed legally dead in 2011 after his childhood home mysteriously caught fire. Officers claim he fled from the car once they reached the station which resulted in officers having no choice but to shoot him. Shockingly, he had no reaction to the bullets and managed to flee. A search now begins for Rogers an…”

The words fade. You can’t listen.

You remember what he said before getting taken away. “I’ll see you again.”. He meant it. He escaped and he’s going to come for you. You’re not safe. Your breath quickens, your heartbeat quickens.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You whisper, head falling into your hands. Sloane’s hand rubs against your shoulder in a poor attempt to comfort you. Nothing could right now. For fucks sake, you told the man the address. He could be watching now.

“Look, Sloane. I can’t be here.” You sputter, rising from the couch. The blankets fall back onto the couch. “Can you drive me home?”

“Uhm– are you sure? I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I need to be. He doesn’t know my house.”

She sighs, glancing to the TV once more, “Fine.”

— ∘◦ ⦻

You’re back in the middle of nowhere, in the passenger seat of Sloane’s car. The trees bunch together in similar patterns. You know this place. It’s where your car was. The space where your car sat alone is empty.

“Guess my car got towed.”

Sloane glances over briefly then back to the street, “Yeah, probably.”

You fall back onto the backrest, watching the clouds look down on you as if they know something you don’t. The trees hold the same glare. You look at your lap instead.

The houses grow similar again. It feels safe again. The orange glow of streetlights, that little coffee shop on the corner, the stand selling bouquets of flowers, your apartment complex. Sloane parks in front of the apartment building, looking over to you. “You gonna be okay alone?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt, “Yeah, I’ll be good. He can’t find me here.”

“Alright, call me tomorrow. I’ll be worried about you.”

“Alright.” You snicker, pushing open the door and stepping out. She waves once more as you slam the door shut and she drives off. You watch her leave, hoping she takes all the worry and fear away with her too.

You walk up the stairs you know so well and claw for your keys in your pocket when you reach your door. The feeling of the twist of your wrist feels right. You’re safe.

You’re safe.

— ∘◦ ⦻

A familiar grind of faulty brakes calls from outside, muffled by the walls and windows of your apartment. Too familiar. It sounds just like your car. A car door slams shut. You lift yourself from the couch, too curious for your own good. You peer out of the window, looking down to the road to see your car parked in your usual spot.

Your car.

No one sits inside but the courtesy light shines down onto the seats. Colorful wires display across the driver's seat, escaping from the dashboard. Someone hotwired your car.

A knock on the door sets you out of your trance. It’s all too weird. Nothing seems right.

You tip-toe to the door, wincing at the sound of the floorboards creaking underneath you. You press your cheek against the door, eye meeting the peephole. Oh fuck. He found you.

Toby stands on the opposing side of the door. The right shoulder of his hoodie is stained pure crimson, a large hole pierced into it. A bullet hole. His hands are accompanied by two hatchets, rusted a bit on the blade. His hair is tousled more than before, wind-tossed across his head. Orange goggles over his brown eyes. “I kn-know you’re in the-there.”

You hold your breath and back away from the door, body beginning to shake with no signs of stopping.

“If you do-don’t unlock the do-door, I’ll le-let myself i-in.”

Without warning, a blade pierces through the wooden door, pieces of it spraying across the floor. You scream, shooting a hand over your mouth. He pulls the hatchet from the door and slams it again. And again. And again. Till a hole big enough to crawl through is what’s left of your safety. You run into the kitchen, grabbing a knife and tucking yourself behind a corner. His footsteps pound on the floor.

“Do-don’t hide. I’m not go-gonna hurt you unless you giv-give me a rea-reason to, yeah?” He stutters in a tone that makes you shiver. He gets closer to the doorway. The knife feels like an anvil in your hands. A creak of the floorboards echoes through the room and you lunge. You throw yourself around the corner, digging the knife into his chest. Blood sprays across your hand, skin adorned with the warmth. But he doesn’t react. He jolts back ever so slightly. And laughs.

“That wo-won’t work on me.” He drops one of his hatchets to the floor, shoves your hand away and grabs the knife handle, prying it from his flesh like it was a splinter. Blood spills from his chest, leaking on his hoodie and dripping down to his jeans. You can’t get a word out, nothing but stutters. He tosses the knife to the floor, the blade gliding past you, biting at your ankle.

“FUCK.” You fall to the ground from the sudden pain, hand wrapping around your gushing ankle. You glare up to Toby, eyes feeling like they’ll burst from your head. He holds one of his hatchets with two hands. He pulls it above his head as blood from his chest rains onto you.

“I co-could’ve fucking lo-loved you.”

And he drops the hatchet with his hands.

And the blade buries itself in your skull.

Breaking the mind Toby was beginning to love.

You chose “Run Away with Toby”.

Life was always boring to you. Or at least the life you lead. It was work, eat, sleep, socialize (maybe). Nothing was special. And the thought of changing it all right now was enticing. Leaving everyone you know behind. Leaving everything right now, it made your mouth water.

You need this. Right?

You rise from the edge of the bed and wrap around it, meeting Toby. His eyes frantically shoot across your face, waiting. The police lights cast colorful flashes on his face, making everything seem even more tense.

“Let’s go then.”

His eyebrows raise, a pleased smirk stretching across his lips. He spins on his heel and bolts into the bathroom, moving immediately. A window sits against the wall. It was relatively thin, close to the ceiling. Not too thin for you guys. Toby climbs on top of the toilet and pushes open the window, the cold breeze flooding into the room, goosebumps spreading across your skin.

“ON THE COUNT OF THREE, WE BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN.” The officer’s voice echoes into the room. You’ve never felt your heart beat so fast. Toby hoists himself up, shimmying his body all the way through the window.

“3…”

Finally, his shoes make it out and he falls to the ground. It was a long alley behind him, stretching as far as the eye could see. You climb onto the toilet and look out of the window to see him, hands out in front of him, ready to take your hands. It’s now or never.

“2…”

You grab them, rough blisters and scars contrasting with the soft, plush of your palms. He pulls you down like it’s nothing, the fresh, autumn night air blowing your hair from your face.

“1.”

Wood breaks, footsteps scream, voices yell. The officers flood into the room, reaching the doorway of the bathroom right when your feet touch the pavement. Just out of reach. Without a word, Toby begins running, practically dragging you behind him.

“HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT.” You spit, a laugh escaping your throat. Toby looks back to you, moonlight casting a soft, pale glow on his skin. His eyes are wide, pupils blown up. A lopsided smile like no other you’ve ever seen stretches across his lips. It’s gorgeous. All of this is. You speed up and run beside him, hand interlocked with his.

The sounds of sirens don’t seem to fade. It seems to be following you. With no warning, Toby turns a corner, bolting toward the bustling streets. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” You bark over the sound of sirens. He says nothing, just running. Suddenly, he stops. A dumpster stands next to you and with zero hesitation, he flips open the lid and jumps in.

“G-GET IN.” He screams, a lopsided grin curling on his lips, twisting the gash in his cheek. The sound of sirens grows closer and closer. You have no choice. You sigh and jump in beside him and he shuts the lid. It’s fully pitch black, no way of seeing Toby right across from you. His knees knock into yours as he shuffles across from you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper-scream. A small, orange glow lights up in front of your face, illuminating the dumpster just enough to see his face. He holds up a lighter, flame flickering a bit from the breeze leaking into the ‘room’.

“You smoke?”

“Not re-really. Use it f-f-for ot-other things muh-mostly.” He mumbles, seeming almost proud. The small gap in between his two front teeth shows itself along with his smile. Even with the ear-splitting sound of sirens and the stench of trash filling the air, you’d never felt so right. So safe.

But one question remains.

“Why’d you kill that person?”

His eyes immediately look away from yours, shoulder slamming into his ear. A soft whistles leaves his lips before he sighs, “W-why do you wah-wanna know?”

“I just do.”

“I’m a hu-hunter. I kill fo-for w-work.”

“Normally, hunters kill deer and shit. Not people.”

He snickers, “I’m a-a different ki-kind.” The light flickers in front of his eyes, the flame reflecting in his blown-out pupils. The tight, close walls of the dumpster pry into your back but it’s hard to notice at this moment. You’re in a dumpster with a murderer.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

His gaze falls from your eyes to your lips then back up again. His eyebrows soften. He calms. “I co-couldn’t. Not yo-you.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“I ju-just couldn’t d-do it. You sh-sh-should’ve seen yo-yourself on the side of tha-that road. It’d be e-evil to do tha-that to so-someone like yo-you.” A small pause hangs in the air between you two. “Th-that sun in yo-your face. That s-stupid smile o-on your li-lips. I couldn’t. I ca-can’t.”

Your mouth opens then shuts, no words could come to you. And even if they did, you wouldn’t want to say them. He had just met you yesterday and he’s confessing all these feelings about you. And as much as you’d like to be disturbed, you can’t. Because you know you feel the same. You smile far too hard and bow your head.

“Yeah?” You mutter.

“Y-yeah.”

Your eyes finally meet again, a slight shade of pink flushing across his cheeks. You didn’t notice till just now that the sirens had faded away, nowhere near to two of you in your hiding spot.

“Uhm– I’ll g-get my friends to p-pick us u-up. It wo-wouldn’t be good to w-walk.” Toby shoves the flame in your face, “Take th-this.” You grab the lighter hesitantly, keeping it lit between you two. He pulls a flip phone from his back pocket, shifting the whole dumpster. He snickers and opens it, presses a button and holds it to the side of his head. It rings twice before someone answers.

“I ne-need to be pi-picked up.” Toby mutters to the phone, in a tone as if he were nervous.

“Y-es– yes. I k-know. But I ne-need it, the tr-truck’s gone.” An inaudible tone barks on the other side in an angered tone. Toby rolls his eyes, “It’s no-not my fault. I’m br-bringing so-some–one. You go-got my loc-location.” Toby claps the phone shut and shoves it back in his pocket, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Who’s that?”

“O-oh, a friend. Y-you’ll like hi-him.”

You simply nod. It's official. Your other life is gone. Dead. And you’ll never get it back. You are a fugitive. And god, does it feel good.

— ∘◦ ⦻

20 minutes of sitting on trash bags, surrounded by tight metal walls and garbage with Toby’s knees knocking into yours was beginning to get to you. That was soon ended by the sound of a car’s sputtering engine clattering outside of the dumpster. It sounded old, coughing smoke into the fresh air outside.

“Th-that’s them!” Toby yelped, tone laced with sarcasm. You smirked as he stood up, the lid flipping open. The smell of fresh air was seductive. You rose as well, knees cracking and snapping under the sudden weight.

A man sat in the driver’s seat. His hair was a dark brown, sideburns decorating the side of his face. A scowl lied in his eyes, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Another man sat in the passenger seat. He had short, dirty blonde hair, some pieces sticking up. A soft stubble adorned his top lip, his eyes were kind but his glare wasn’t.

“Who is this, Toby?” The man in the driver's seat hisses, clearly unhappy at the sight of you.

“I to-told you I’m bri-bringing someone.” He shot back, climbing out from the dumpster. You did the same. He stepped ahead of you, jumping into the bed of the truck.

“Really?” You utter, laughing a bit as you climb in after him. He crosses his arms and tugs his hoodie over his head, the shirt underneath rising a bit with it. The shirt under was a plain black t-shirt, far more form-fitting than you’d expect. And he passes it to you.

“The bed a-ain’t comfy to si-sit on for lo–ong. Sit on th-this.” He looks away from you, as if he was embarrassed to see your reaction. You avoid how your cheeks flush.

“Thanks, Toby.” You take the hoodie and lift up, setting it under yourself and sitting back down. Suddenly, the car jerks forward and they drive from the alley. Wind blows through your hair like fingers, sending chills down your spine. Toby’s hair flies back too, scars on display. You can’t help but find it beautiful.

“So, who are they?”

Toby snickers, shoving a few strands of hair from his face. The streetlights light up his face, skin glowing like a bulb. “Guy i-in the dri-drivers seat is T-Tim. His li-little bu-butt buddy i-is Brian.”

“We can hear you.” Tim spits, glaring through the back window briefly with the same scowl. The car speeds through the city, cars passing by. No one batted an eye at you, fully unaware two fugitives sit right beside them at the traffic light.

It feels like you have been driving forever. The wind on your face was beginning to hurt, the smell of fresh air was becoming boring. Toby kept himself across from you but now he lay down on his back, eyes locked on the sky.

“You e-ever seen th-the stars in the ci-city?” He asks, glancing over to you.

“No.”

He smiles that lopsided smile and tics his head to the side, “Lay dow-down.”

You don’t argue. You move his hoodie you’ve been sitting on to sit like a pillow and you lay down next to him. Your shoulders press together as you stare up to the sky, small white dots glow above you in patterns. It was pretty. But the reflection of them in his eyes was beautiful. The purple circles under his eyes frame the sea of brown. The small, scattered pale gashes and scars in his skin dip into shadows under the faint light. God, it was perfect. You didn’t even realize that he’d caught you staring.

He says nothing and stares back, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. Eyes scatter across your skin, settling on your lips.

“Ca-can I?” He stutters, near silently. And you know just what he means. And you know you want it.

A small nod twitches your head and he immediately moves. He shifts to his side, one hand finding itself to the side of your face, thumb teasing the skin of your cheek. He inches closer and closer till the space closes. His chapped lips slip against yours. The truck bed shakes under you, pushing you closer, chest to chest.

And you eat each other’s faces till the car stops.

Nothing in sight. There hasn’t been for at least an hour. You started getting worried around 30 minutes when fields of green and the road ahead of you were all you had seen for miles. The silence of nothing was offputting. That was made stronger by a piercing chime filling the air of your car. “The fuck?” You mutter under your breath to yourself, looking for the source. The car began slowing, the gas tank symbol blinked. You were out of gas. In the middle of nowhere.

“No, no, no…” Without a choice, you steer the car to the side till it stops by itself. Great.

And it’s not like you could look up how to get out of buttfuck nowhere, your phone died, just like your car. You have one choice. Get out and hitchhike. You don’t want to do it. In every other thriller, this is how the main character gets kidnapped and murdered (till they miraculously escape, of course). But with the sun beginning to set on the horizon, you know you didn’t have long till you were forced to sleep in your car. You consider a bit longer before coming to a conclusion, followed by a sigh.

You fall back against the backrest of the seat, looking out of the window to see nothing. Grass and some woods way far back. You never quite understood country people, you could never understand how this could be ideal. You turn the key and yank it out of the hole, shoving open the car door. The breeze is quiet, calm. Your legs ache from sitting for however long you did, knees shaking under your weight. The roads are deserted, no one could be around for miles. This is so stupid. You run a hand through your hair before sticking your thumb out into the road. And it stays this way till the sky turns orange and the moon begins to rise.

You’ve gotta say it’s been an hour, maybe more of standing on the side of the road, waiting for anyone, anything, to drive by and see you. You’re about ready to get back in the car and give up till something moves. The soft heat waves on the skyline shiver, a car. You gasp and rise from the concrete floor, jumping and throwing your hands in the air.

It speeds closer and closer. You can make it out better now. It’s a truck, the red color sun-bleached and rusted in parts. It’s stained with dried mud and other substances. The passenger door is from a different car, obvious as it’s a whole different color. It’s clear this thing is old. Everything about it screams uninviting but you’ll take whatever you can get. Your arms fly around above your head, waving, praying they’ll stop.

“Please! Please!” You yell out. It gets closer, wind blowing onto you as it passes. “Fuck– no, please stop!” You cry, watching it drive off farther from you, toward the sun. Then it stops, the truck jolting forward. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding before jogging up to the truck. The window rolls down, your eyes meet a man’s. His hair is wavy, brunette and messy. A pair of orange-lensed goggles sit in the mess, pushing strands away from his face. A mask hangs by his neck which he quickly tugs over his mouth at your notice.

“Thank you so much for stopping, I’ve been out here forever. I thought no one would ever come.”

He snickers awkwardly, eyes darting around a bit, “N-no pr-pr-problem.” His head collides with his shoulder, jerking unintentionally.

You decide to ignore the movements, they appear like tics, I’d be insensitive to comment. “Uh– where is this?” You question, arms crossed onto the window.

“No-nowhere.” He mumbles, a soft laugh leaving his lips. “Do yo-you need a ri-ri-ride?” He talks fast, like he’s got somewhere to be.

“Yeah– please. If that’s fine. I need to get to the city, my car died on me.”

He nods, pupils shooting back and forth, “O-oh. That’s the other wa-way ‘round. You l-l-lost too, huh?”

Goddammit. You groan, looking down the road. No wonder your car died on you, you were using all your gas going the complete wrong way. “You’re sure it’s not too much of a hassle to take me?”

He hesitates then nods, shoulders slumping, “Uhm– yeah. I-it’s cool.” He presses a button on the door and the car unlocks. You tug open the door and sit yourself in the passenger seat. Before you can buckle, the car begins moving, jerking you forward. He makes a u-turn and drives.

An awkward silence hangs in the air between you two, the only sound coming from soft music leaving the speakers. It was difficult to leave it as is.

“So, what’s your name?”

He snickers a bit, glancing over to you. His eyes were a hazel brown, the orange sunlight shining in from the window, making them glow. His skin was pale, light freckles covering his nose. Scars as well adorned what you could see, a split carved through his eyebrow as well as across his nose. The mask he wore covered most of what you were curious about. “U-uh– Toby. You?”

You tell him, to which a crinkle creeps onto the corners of his eyes. “Pr-pretty.” You ignore the heating in your cheeks. “S-so, why you he-heading to the ci-ci-city?” The car swerves a bit as his neck twitches.

“Oh, just some old friends invited me down. I haven’t been back to the city in a hot minute.” You explain, looking over to him every now and then.

He nods, adjusting the mask on his face. “Ah, I se-see.”

You smile before scanning him. He was different. You were interested. He wears a hoodie, sleeves striped and rolled up. That’s when you notice the front of the hoodie is stained with crimson splatters. The bottoms of the sleeves are stained too. So is his lap. What the fuck? You glance back up to his face, eyes concentrated on the road.

“Why are you covered in blood?” You ask but it doesn’t sound much like a question. He shoots a wide-eyed glare over to you, pupils the size of saucers. He looks down to his lap and laughs.

“Oh– heh, th-that looks ba-bad, huh? I’m a hu-hu-hunter.”

You nod, the nerves calming a bit. It all still seemed off. “Uh– what do you hunt with?”

“H-hatchets. I per-personally do better up cl-cl-close.”

He seems believable, his voice is calm. Concentrated. You’ve never heard of hunters hunting like that but if he wanted to kill you, he probably would’ve already. Right?

— ∘◦ ⦻

You guys have driven for what felt about a half an hour, maybe a little longer till you began seeing buildings again. Some people and cars. It was looking like the world you knew again. Especially when you heard the sound of police sirens.

“Fu-fuck– fuck.” Toby mutters under his breath, now sitting up straight.

“What?”

He looks over to you, slouching again. “Nothing, ju-just, uhm.” He stops talking, focusing back on the road. A line of traffic sits at the road entering the city. The line was longer than you’d ever seen. All you could see other than a sea of red brake lights was a large crowd of cop cars and the cops themselves. They all held guns, the group surrounded by caution tape.

“Woah, what’s going on?” You babble, attempting to see the scene better over the traffic. Toby whistles softly, head smacking to his shoulder, tics growing worse.

“I d-don’t think th-this traffic is go-go-gonna let up. We, uhm.” Without another word, he speeds to the turn lane, past the hold-up.

“Woah, wait, Toby– I need to go in there.” You sit up higher in your seat, facing him. His eyes bug from his head, head still assaulting his shoulder.

“We can’t.” He spits, refusing to look in your direction. The car accelerates immediately the second the light turns green, turning away from the scene. He curses and whistles under his breath unintentionally as he swerves past other cars, gaining him honks. “Can’t fu-fu-fucking breathe.” He snarls, yanking the mask from his face. A small bit of stubble covers his chin, some chunks naked from scars. He looked. Normal. Why was he wearing that mask?

You decide against saying anything to make Toby stop driving like this, you didn’t want to know what would happen to you or people around you. You barely knew this guy anyway. Other than that he's terrified of cops and he hunts.

He drives you to the end of the city, on the other side of town. Away from where you needed to be. He pulls into a motel, the vacant sign buzzing with electricity in a shade of green. “What the fuck are we doing here?” You hiss, unbuckling your seatbelt the minute he parks, poorly at that.

“We ar-are staying he-here tonight.”

“No, we aren’t. You are taking me to where I need to be.”

He shoots his head over to you. A large gash in his cheek catches your eye. The reason he wore the mask. You can see his teeth through the hole, spit making them shine. The edges are rigid and ragged yet, healed minus a few small scabs. You quickly shoot your gaze up back to his eyes.

“I ca-can’t. I’m s-s-sorry.” He mumbles, seeming somehow sarcastic and truthful all at once. He twists the key and gets out of the car, grabbing the mask. You sigh and do the same. You follow him to the lobby, the smell of dust and mold assaulting your nostrils. The lights buzz louder than they should and cobwebs occupy the corners. Toby approaches the desk, mask now back on.

“Two ro-rooms, pl-please.”

The woman behind the counter reads a newspaper, a lit cigarette dangling from his bright pink lips. She looked to be in her late 40’s. She grumbled under her breath and looked at the computer screen in front of her. “We only gots’ one room available right now.” Her voice was hoarse, raspy. Not in a cute way.

Toby sighs and nods, handing the woman a 10 dollar bill. She glances to Toby and you with judging eyes before tossing it on the table and grabbing a pair of keys from the wall behind her. She hands it to him and goes back to her newspaper. You follow him out of the lobby and outside, reading the door numbers. A few doors from the lobby, “104”. He shoves the key in and opens the door, you follow. The room isn’t as bad as the lobby. One bed sits against the wall, a small TV sits across from it on a dresser. 70’s wallpaper covers on the wall, some tears showing the patchy drywall. The hardwood panels creak absurdly loud under your feet as you tip-toe in.

“I’ll sl-sleep on the fl-fl-floor.” Toby mumbles, shutting the door behind him and locking it. You glance over to the queen size bed.

“Toby.”

He glances from the wall to you, taking off the mask. You watch his tongue lick his back teeth through the gash.

“What was that all about?”

“D-does it concern yo-you?” He hisses, walking over to the bed and snagging a pillow off of it before throwing it on the ground next to the bed.

“Well, kinda. I’m stuck in a motel room because you’re terrified of cops or something.” You sit down on the edge of the bed, trying to escape being too close to him. The crimson blood scattered across his clothing brings itself back to your attention. “You’re covered in blood and you are scared of cops. Doesn’t that seem fucking suspicious to you?” You seeth to him, spit shooting off your teeth. He scowls, eyebrows threading together.

“M-my life has no-nothing to do with you. I’ll ta-take you hom-home tomorrow m-morning.” He inches to the light switch and flicks it off, encasing the room in darkness minus the lamp on the bedside table lit a soft orange. He moves back over, standing over you as you glare up to him. “Go-go-goodnight.” He flicks the lamp off and gets down to the floor, laying on his side on the dusty floor, back turned to you.

You lay down on your back, springs in the bed piercing through the silence. You worry if you sleep, you may never wake up with Toby on the floor next to you. A complete stranger. Covered in blood and a hole in his cheek. Your body eventually beats you in the fight to stay awake and you feel your eyes shut.

— ∘◦ ⦻

An ear-splitting siren cuts through the quiet, the sound growing louder and louder as if it’s right outside of your door. You rub your eyes awake to see red and blue flashing lights blinking through the curtain covering the window. You immediately sit up, looking down to the floor to see Toby sitting up on the floor, staring at the lights.

“Oh fu-fuck– oh fuck– o-oh fuck.” His voice climbs from a whisper to a yell, shooting up to his feet.

“Come outside with your hands up.” A voice echoes outside through a speaker, leaking into the room. Toby begins pacing back and forth, head slamming against his shoulder while his fingers twitch by his sides. His head tics over to you, eyes wide with insanity. His hair is messier than before, the goggles now abandoned on the bedside table.

“We ne-ne-FUCK–need to guh-go. Now.” His stutter worsens along with his tics, whistles erratically leaving his lips.

“You’re on a run from the cops.” You whisper, his hazel eyes piercing into yours. “You’re a fucking murderer, huh? You’re not a hunter.”

“Is th-that what you-you’re re-re-re-really worried about ri-right now?” He shouts, neck muscles flaring.

“This is your last chance. Come out with your hands up.” The voice outside bellows again. Toby’s teeth chomp on the skin around the gash, his hands hitting into his side unintentionally.

“O-okay, we need to g-go. We’ll le-leave through th-the bathroom wi-window.” He spits, grabbing his goggles from the bedside table and speed-walking around the bed to the shut door next to the bed. He swings it open, the door slamming to the wall with a bang. He looks back to you, eye twitching. Waiting.

You’re left with a decision.

Will you…

Run away with Toby? or Let him go alone?

thank you for reading!

other parts will be coming out soon!! they will be linked under the choices when published

You’d managed through breakups before. Someone would send the message, saying how they are leaving the other. The other will be upset, most of the time, and then be on their way. They’d move on, be single, be free. That’s how it typically went. Not this time around.

You never knew what Ben was capable of. You had to find out the hard way.

You and Ben met on a Discord server for some shooter game you were obsessed with at the time. You guys bonded over using the same character as your main and it went on from there. It went from small conversations every now and then to messaging all day and night to calling all day and night. Then it grew hard to ignore, you were falling for him. And he was falling for you. So one night on the call which had already stretched to 12 hours long, he confessed his love which resulted in a newfound relationship. Everything was amazing. Till around when you asked to meet up. He got defensive, edgy, he refused to tell you where he lived. Anytime anything of that nature came up in conversation, it’d be “Is this not good enough for you?” or “I like it like this, I don’t wanna ruin what we have”. After a while, it got old so you broke it off. He was devastated. He begged to stay friends after which you denied. That made it worse. He continued messaging you all the time. All the time.

3:27 AM

| u sure ur still serious about this babe? im still here

| all yours yeah?

4:14 AM

| i know ur online

| just answer me

5:18 AM

| playing hard to get doesnt work on me yk

| i know u still want me

| u still fucking need me i know u

You ignored him but after a while, ignoring wasn’t working. He persisted. And persisted. You couldn’t take it. So you blocked him. 10 minutes later, he texted again. You don’t know how, he was blocked. You shouldn’t be getting his messages.

You blocked ‘xx_dr0wnedxx’.

9:49 PM

| ur funny

| u think blocking me will work?

| u shouldnt have done that.

So you thought fighting back would maybe make him get a clue.

You unblocked ‘xx_dr0wnedxx’.

1:36 AM

| stop messaging me ben

| it’s over

| get a fucking hint

| so she speaks

| i dont plan on leaving you alone

| get used to me baby

You blocked ‘xx_dr0wnedxx’.

That wasn’t gonna work. You make a new Discord account which gets rid of him for about half an hour.

2:21 PM

| new account thats smart

| try not to make it so easy to find next time yeah?

Fine then. You delete Discord altogether. Of course, he texts your number. You never gave him your number.

7:29 PM

< thats not gonna work either babes

< nice try

< im never letting you go

This number isn’t in your contacts.

You’ve just about had enough. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of changing your number, leaving you to just shut off your phone fully for some time. That kept him quiet, not on your PC though. He’d infiltrated all your social media, finding his way past your passwords and posting absurd things on your stories. You deleted all your socials then. You were left with nothing. Nothing for him to get into. No way for him to reach you. So you thought.

While you scrolled through websites, pop-up ads held photos of his face along with text reading “Still here!” and “Don’t think it’s over yet, baby!”. It was a mockery of any independence you once had. He’d display text all across your desktop screen, cruelly reminding you that you would never get rid of him. He made an application on your home screen titled “open me!!!”. Of course you never did, you’d put it in the trash each time it popped up. You were so fucking close to throwing the whole computer out but you couldn’t do it. He can’t believe he’s won.

He started putting all different kinds of photos of himself as your desktop wallpaper, changing from casual to lewd selfies by the hour. If he thought this would make you want him back, he thought wrong. You began spiraling, having panic attacks at the thought of him. You’d be lying in your bed, head in your hands as you sobbed and he’d display large messages across your desktop reading “dont cry baby, i can make this all end now” and other scornful phrases.

Then he started talking to you through your speakers.

“I see yo-yo-you, gorgeous. M-m-m-miss my voice, yeah?”

It always came out electronic-like, voice skipping as if it was a scratched CD. You claw your hands on your scalp, begging for him to stop. You’d scream into the void of your room for him to just go and one day, he did.

One day, the chaos ended. He went silent. You couldn’t believe it, pinching your skin to make yourself wake up. But you stayed. It was real. He was gone.

You glare over to the alarm clock on your bedside table, it reads “3:17 AM”. Normally at this hour, you’d be waking up from the sound of Ben mocking an alarm clock from your speakers, calling you awake and the flashing of the lights in your room coming to life thanks to him. But no. It was silent. It was dark. Everything was normal.

You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes from sleep, still unsure if any of this was real. You wanted to bask in this quiet, you didn’t know when he’d be back and if he was gonna come back, you wanted to be able to feel this once more. You shove the blanket off yourself a bit and flop back onto the bed, eyes staring holes into the tapestry above your bed. It’s felt like forever since you’ve seen it without the bright LED glow of green lights shining on it.

The peace is soon interrupted by the faint sound of electronic glitches. No. No. Not yet. You sit up, hesitant to see how he’ll make his entrance this time. Your desktop sits atop the desk across your bed as it always did, yet the screen wasn’t off anymore. The screen was pitch black as if it was but the words, “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT.”, glow in the middle, a shade of neon green. The lights of your PC begin to glow the same shade of green, blinking slowly. The LEDs surrounding the corners of your room begin to blink just the same. A shiver runs down your spine. The blinks begin to quicken, the sounds of the glitches grow louder. So loud, you slam your hands over your ears.

“T-t-t-too loud for you, h-huh?” The sound of his voice bellows over the glitches, quietening them ever so slightly. “S-soooooo, do yo-yo-you remember how you always wanted to me-me-meet? We-well, I th-hink it’s about time I give you wh-what you want, ya’ think?”

You slowly peel your hands from your ears, letting them fall to your sides. “What are you talking about, Ben?” You ask but it barely sounds like a question.

He lets out a raspy, mocking laugh, glitches interrupting him, “You al-always wanted to meet, cor-correct?”

You know that if you deny it, it’s gonna make things worse. “Uhm, yeah. I did.”

“Great.” He cuts you off. Suddenly, the lights all around your room grow brighter, brighter than they should. The glitching sounds grow louder, echoing off the walls. The letters on the desktop shine brighter, and brighter. The letters on the screen glitch disrupted by a small circle piercing through them, shades of darker green, blue and purple pixels popping up. This was new.

The circle grows larger until a small, pale color appears in the center. It stretches out farther, breaking past the screen of the desktop. It creeps out farther and bends like a finger. The tip is adorned by a nail, chipped black polish covering it. It’s a finger.

It’s Ben’s finger.

You scream once you realize what’s going on, cutting through the sound of glitches. Soon, his whole hand is penetrating through the desktop yet, the screen doesn’t crack. It constricts, allowing his arm to come through. You back yourself against the wall behind your bed, bringing your knees to your chest.

His arm has fully extended through the screen by now, fingers curled around the edge of the desk. He pulls himself forward with the hand, his hair beginning to peek out. He comes out farther and farther, till his head is revealed past the glitching display. He looked just as he did when you guys called but he was real. He was here. The one thing that was different was the whites of his eyes were a deep black and his once-green irises were now a deep, neon-like red. His eyes widen once they set on the pathetic sight of you balled by the headboard of your bed. Strands of his shaggy, blonde hair escape from his slouchy, green hat you never saw him without. You always liked him for his hair.

A grim smirk tugs at his lips as his other arm appears from the screen, allowing him to tug himself out farther. His torso follows behind him, crawling off the desk until his whole body makes it through. He plants his feet in front of the bed, looking down at the terrified sight of you, curled up in your night shirt. He wears an oversized, green t-shirt, the graphic worn away along with a pair of baggy, black jeans held up by a tattered belt. A faint glow of green outlines his silhouette, pixels occasionally shooting off of him like sparks. You don’t understand. You can’t understand. How the fuck is he here?

“Never seen anything like that, have ya’?” He crosses his arms over his chest, appearing oh-so proud in the display he just did. Your mind still can’t fully comprehend the fact that he's here. In your room. You try to respond but the words won’t come out.

“Awh, you scared of me, baby?” He mocks in a voice as if he were talking to a baby. He is tormenting you. He steps closer, placing his hand on the edge of the bed. His eyes lay half-lidded as he crawls closer to you, “Can’t even talk. Cute.”

The urge to kick him and call the police is strong but the urge to bring him closer, hug him, tell him how bad you wanted to see him is almost just as strong.

He inches closer till he’s fully on your bed, red eyes glowing brighter. “Why are you doing this, Ben?” You mutter, pushing yourself farther against the wall. He snickers, shaking his head.

“You know why, you left me. You shouldn’t have do-do-done that.” His voice begins skipping again, pixels darting from his body as if he were still in the computer while he crawls closer.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You question, eyes watering from the lack of blinking. You were scared if you did, he’d do something. You don’t want to know what.

“You wanna see why?” Without warning, you feel yourself lift into the air, floating near the ceiling of your room. You look down to see Ben staring up at you, now standing next to the edge of the bed. He tilts his head and your body follows, slamming into the opposite wall. Your head collides with it and you fall, instantly aching all over from the force. You wail into the echo of your room, hand shooting up to hold your head. Ben walks over to you, standing over you. He scoffs at the sight of how pitiful you look. Your vision begins blurring as tears pour down your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. He shoots his head up and your body follows again, now standing on your feet. Your legs quiver under your weight, growing weaker by the minute.

He clenches his hands around your head, holding it tightly in his grasp. “Now, you’ll feel what I-I-I felt.”

Before you can question him, glitches infiltrate your vision. Green pixels grow around the corners of your eyes, the sounds of mechanical malfunction fill your ears. It’s louder than anything you’ve ever heard, you didn’t know anything could be this loud. You feel yourself scream but you can’t hear it.

Ben’s eyes stare into yours, a long smirk crawling up his face. Blood begins spilling from his eyes and mouth, dripping down his face fast. The red of his irises glows brighter and brighter and the glitches cover more and more of what you can see. A static-like pain shoots up your spine and spreads across your whole body, causing you to collapse to the floor.

The last thing you see before the pixels take over was Ben. He scowls down at you, laughing as his blood drips down onto you. He likes watching you die. Soon, the screams of the glitches and the flashes of green and blue are all you know. The static grows stronger, stopping any independent movement you once had.

Till you feel your body give up fighting.