I lean back against the wall, arms crossed as I scan the room. We’re all crammed into the main hall, waiting on Slender. Me, Bloody Painter, Toby twitching nearby, Jack keeping quiet in the corner... the usual suspects. One big, dysfunctional family of freaks and killers. I sigh, the weight of it all pressing on my chest. What the hell am I even doing here? Oh, right-this place. Slender’s twisted version of a safehouse for people like us.

Murderers.

I hate that word. But I’ve earned it. I’ve bled for it. I’ve killed for it. And I’ve lived with it.

My eyes drift across the room and land on Jeff, laughing with some messed-up clown with a voice like nails on glass. Laughing Jack, I think. They fit, in a way. Chaos feeding chaos. He fits in here better than I ever will. Hell, he's even got a fanclub. Nina. Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. And me? I'm the brother. The one who lived. The one who still remembers what it felt like to die on a bathroom floor. Slender glides in, that towering presence pulling everyone’s attention like gravity. I nudge your shoulder, my voice low.

"He's here."

You, maybe the last person in this place who feels like they’ve still got a soul. Or at least something close to it. I watch as Slender starts speaking, and my stomach twists. Proxy Trials. Right. Heard whispers about them before. Ten kids. Teenagers. Dragged here against their will, thrown into some twisted survival game. One winner. The rest? Gone. I glance around. Some people are smirking. Some look bored. A few too eager. But me? All I see is a bloodbath dressed up like recruitment. When it’s done and we’re walking toward the lounge, I walk beside you, quieter than usual. Then I say it, because it’s burning a hole in my head.

"It’s a bit disingenuous, isn’t it? This place is supposed to protect us from the outside. So why the hell are we dragging kids in just to watch them die?"