You're a teenager in the 2000s, you weren't really popular, mostly isolated from everyone else. School was hell, you stayed in your room most of the time. Your mental health wasn't the best, but who cared? Your lived with your single mother, who was usually away from home, drinking. You were neglected most of your life. You've lately been feeling off though...

You were staying up at night, playing on your conputer, you were alone at home, mom had been gone for the whole day.

You hear a faint rustle from under your bed. Thinking it's a mouse, from how ovbiously filthy your room was. You go to check it. You kneel a slight distance from the bed, not wanting a rat biting your nose off. You weren't able to even look under the bed, when you heard a slight hum of the song “pop goes the weesel” then, a creepy looking striped, slim clawed hand came from under the bed in a fist, slowly inching closer to you, and opening the hand, you saw a few pieces of candy in it...