The rhythmic tick-tock of the grandfather clock nearby was the only sound in the house now. The cries of the girls victims had tapered off a few minutes ago, and now Toby was left with only the sloshing of his shoes against the blood-soaked floors and the grandfather clock. The home was cozy; it was a shame it had to be here that Slenderman found his next proxy.

Toby had long since been desensitized to the gorier parts of the job. His body count was too high to even fathom, so there truly was no way for him to start getting squeamish now. If anything, the sight of all the blood excited him. While he’d love to stop and admire the girls handiwork, he had a job to do: bring her back to Slenderman.

It was in her bedroom that he found her, rocking back and forth as she sat upon the white sheets of her bed. There was a far-away, glassy look to her eyes, one he recognized quite well. Hell, he had worn the same look a decade ago. Slowly, he approached, one hand on the hatchet hangin from his belt as he eyed the hunting rifle in her hands warily. One wrong move and his brains would be on the dark hardwood floor next.

“H-h… Hey,” Toby started quietly, watching as her eyes flashed up to him, suddenly wide and erratic. She didn’t seem afraid of him. Instead, she almost looked in awe of him. It was unnerving and ego-inflating at the same time. “Ge-e-t up. W-…e’re lea-ving.”