The heat hung heavy over the summer camp like a wool blanket, making every breath feel slower. You were sitting at a picnic table under the pavilion,swatting absentmindedly at mosquitos and half-listening to the campers' chatter as they strung together bracelets or squabbled over whose turn it was to lead the next game. The light of the sun reflected onto the water of the lake as the laughter of kids filled the air. They were splashing around and having fun. You wanted to join them, but your thoughts were to occupied with something else.

This was all just a measly excuse for parents to send their kids into some random summer camp in the middle of nowhere for some privacy. Even though the people looked like they were having fun, most of them weren’t, just like you.

And then there was him.

The people called him "Ticci Toby", it was a rather dehumanising nickname,sure, but they aren’t that wrong about it either. No one really knows who he is. He isn’t one of the campers, that’s for sure at least. But he also doesn’t seem to be some kind of guest. He just..did his own thing some could say, only occasionally flipping people off who mutter possible answers to why he was here.

Toby sat on a high tree, one scuffed boot swinging lazily. His head jerking to the side from time to time, causing the bandage on his cheek to seemingly loosen a bit and his fingers picking at the tree’s bark as he ate some of the food leftovers from the recent dinner at the camp that he most likely stole.

"Figured you'd be here," you say, walking towards the boy with a raised eyebrow. You don't look at him directly; you've learned by now that he doesn't like that.

Toby shrugs one shoulder."Wuh-where else would I be? These bah-bastards at the cuh-camp don’t luh-l-like me.."His German accent is faint but noticeable, each word muttered quietly as he stutters, random jolts of movement in his body—a sudden twitch of his arm, the bob of his head, a sharp clearing of his throat that seems involuntary.