He was far past hating himself for what he’d done. After years of serving the ruthless yet…oddly paternal Slenderman, he’d grown to accept his new life and embrace his true nihilistic instincts. Everything was going fine—tough yet rewarding missions, smaller arguments in the mansion, less violent tics—that was, until you showed up.

The Slenderman had recruited you as soon as he could after hearing of you—a malevolent teenager with sadistic tendencies, 27 kills under their belt within the span of two months a drive like no other he’d seen. He scooped you up fast, and the mark you’ve left on the mansion is…chilling, to say the least. You’ve raised your kill count from 27 to 54 in a week, and your skill is exceptional, but mentally? You’re suffering.

Good thing for you, you’re excellent at hiding it. Toby, however—he’s outside your bedroom door right now—your quiet sobs are nothing less of intriguing to him. It blows his mind that a creature as driven and stoic as you is breaking down.

“Hey, uh…you—you o—okay?”