Slendy's Watching Me #1
Disclaimer: The themes and language in this story may not be suitable to all tastes.
Home alone, once again. I tried to enjoy the free time, but I knew what was coming back for me in a few hours. It was the same every f***ing week. They'd go out, get drunk, come home, fight, take it out on me. Saturday night was f***ing groundhog day and I hated it.
Don't let my fairly expensive band tees, hoodies, skinnies and Converse fool you. It was all a cover up. Who would believe a kid that seems to have everything they wanted about their parents beating them? No one, that's who. Adults are blind. Always have been and always will be. I don't remember a time when I wasn't getting taken to the hospital for 'walking into a door' or 'falling down the stairs'.
I had smoked a lot of weed in the daytime, hoping to take my mind off it and that maybe it'd make it hurt less if I was high. More likely, they'd smell it on my clothes and beat me harder. But I didn't care, I was slowly becoming numb to them and the real world.
I spent the evening playing on my brother's bass. All the expensive stuff that was supposedly bought for me was given to him. He was the favourite and I was just the runt. My brother is two-years-older than me and he's about a foot-and-a-half taller. He was built like a tank and was a popular preppy p****. He was sporty, so they didn't mind that he got s*** grades. I was the opposite, I was skinny, scrawny and pretty lanky. I had short brown-blackish greasy hair and anything that wasn't a size small drowned me. I didn't like sports at all. What the big deal about a bunch of sweaty topless guys running after each other? How homoerotic. I didn't really enjoy doing anything, other than playing bass and reading. I got okay-ish grades, but they were never good enough.
I didn't really have that many friends. I got labelled as that tragic emo boy that sits in the corner writing sonnets in his head and I never shook it. Maybe that was why no one seemed to notice the scars and bruises, maybe they thought I did them myself. Teenagers are d***s and high school counts for jack s***. Kurt Cobain was a high school drop-out, so was Quentin Tarantino. Yeah, their lives were totally ruined forever because they didn't go to P.E.
It was starting to get late, they'd be home soon. I sometimes thought about taking a knife and cutting them into tiny freaking pieces and feeding them to a dog. But, I wasn't the killing type. I was pretty passive to be honest.
I got up to put the bass back when I saw something flash by the window. It was a tall man, in a suit, his face looked, well... it wasn't there. I was freaked out for about a minute until I just brushed it off as tripping or something. I walked up the stairs and I felt like I was being followed. Paranoia, also a side effect of weed, I was just tripping, right? I opened the door to my brother's room and the bulb smashed and blew the fuse for the other lights. I dropped the bass by accident. I was trembling and shaky, I could see my breath in the air. I gulped and ran to my room. I quickly pushed open my door and then suddenly, wham! Something hit the back of my head. I fell to my knees in shock. An arm wrapped around my chest, holding me still and a hand was clasped against my mouth. My attacker had a napkin in their hand. I tried to struggle but I felt myself slipping away. I don't really know what happened after that.
Author's note: I based the idea for this story on the Slendy's Watching Me song by Nekomura Iroha. You should check it out because it's a great song. The song is about the theory that Slender Man looks after little kids that are getting abused or are being bullied and kills the adults and people that are mean.
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2 Comments – Post a comment
Dan (Sub-Editor)
Commented 52 months ago - 23rd January 2012 - 01:12am
I like your writing. I also really love the picture - did you draw it?
AddictedToDrPepper1
Commented 52 months ago - 25th January 2012 - 01:53am
No, The website put it up