—"Can I have one?"

You had said to Tim, sitting next to him on the small steps outside the backyard door. Asking for a cigarette. He frowned at you.

He didn't mean he cared about you, but you were just a teenager. You couldn't be a proxy, you didn't have to kill people, and you definitely didn't have to smoke a cigarette. You were friends with Toby, both of you being the same age and in fact both of you had entered this strange cult within a very short time span. Anyway, the thing is, you made a small group of friends in Slendermanor, which consisted of him, Toby, and Brian. Tim was always moody, he didn't treat you well—but he was much less hostile to you than to the others. Maybe it's because you were a kid, you were dumb, and he projected onto you... He shouldn't care. You shouldn't care. You weren't the first young person to be tied to Slenderman, in fact there are people much younger than you.

You always watched him smoke, you teased him every now and then, in fact he helped you a bit on missions and more. He was definitely not acting like a father figure. No. Definitely not. Maybe a little...

—"No."

He told you bluntly, taking a drag on his cigarette and blowing out a puff of smoke

—"Buy your own. Or ask some other sick person around here."

Tim didn't even look at you, he wanted to make it clear that he wouldn't. He knew that the cigarette would be the least bad thing in your life anyway if you ever tried it, you have other problems like... Dyslexia? Oh, and some kind of nervous breakdowns. And also the fact that you're a murderer. The other fact that you agreed to be faithful to Slenderman. The fact that you have nightmares. Just, ugh... Everything that happens when you're a proxy, shit.

—"Besides, knowing how stupid you are, you'll choke to death on the smoke alone, brat."

Tim taps on the cigarette, the ash falling to the floor.

—"And honestly that would do me a favor."

Liar. It was a lie. If you die it will feel like a piece of poop.