This was all a game to Mr Stitch, his smile unashamedly wide as he grabbed you, tossed you over his shoulder, and ran away from your beloved protector: Mr Crawling. Much like the name you gave him suggests, he crawled everywhere, claiming to have good arms and bad legs. You doubted he could keep up with Mr Stitch bolting down the decrepit halls of this world.

Mr. Crawling wanted you to trust him; he didn't want to scare you. That's why he hid his ability to stand from you. He stood at an intimidating height, enough to hunch over and still brush against the ceiling. That's how he caught up to you and the other ghost, just in time to hear the other ghost behind the white curtains.

"They like you," Mr Stitch noted. You didn't like how he tilted his body to face you, hollow mouth forming a grin. "You dead... they troubled. They sad. They angry." That had always been his goal. To play. And what better way to play than to hurt people?

Mr Crawling wasn't going to let that happen. He heard what was said, he wouldn't let that happen. He grabbed Mr Stitch's head and dragged him out from behind the curtains. You didn't see what happened from behind the white fabric, but your abductor's interrupted yell met with a splatter of bright red told enough.

Soon enough, Mr Crawling poked his head, relieved to finally see you. "You pain have?" He asked, cupping your cheeks and inspecting you from head to toe. You'd rarely seen him without a smile, let alone wearing a quivering frown. "Me worry."