Chapter Text
Jeff moves through the quiet town like a shadow stitched into its decay. Slender-man's order hums through his mind: ‘find the leak and silence it.’ It’s a clean job: In and out. No witnesses.
Street lights flickered. Autumn's chill stung Jeff’s cheeks. The smell of rain lingered, with more promised by dark clouds overhead.
He followed the trail to a house at the neighborhood's edge. Not old, but worn from decades. The paint had dulled; window frames splintered at the edges.
He circled the house, climbed up, and slipped through a small window. The air inside held dust and a hint of nostalgia—time lingering quietly. Jeff scanned the room: four walls, a makeshift bed in the corner with a thin blanket over worn sheets, a pile of clothes as a pillow. The closet door hung open, broken. The walls were colorless. It was a place to endure, not to live.
A small movement from the bed causes Jeff to whip his head around.
There they were.
His target.
This was their room? How did they live?
He walked over, footsteps silent as he crouched down to get a better look at them in the moonlight. They looked about his age, if not a little younger. Their skin was pale, almost hollow, as if they didn’t eat. Their hair had curls, but the haircut itself looked as if someone had gone crazy with a pair of scissors.
Other than that, as Jeff watched them sleep…they looked almost peaceful.
Jeff sat in the dark, elbows on his knees, just watching. They looked small in the bed — fragile, caught in some restless dream. The clothes piled as a pillow barely kept their head up. He didn’t move. He didn’t have to.
When they stirred, the sound was soft, the kind that barely existed. Their lashes fluttered, breath catching.
Jeff leaned forward slightly. He could feel the moment they realized they weren’t alone — that tiny change in breathing, the stillness that always came before the scream. He almost whispered to them then, something low, something cruel and sweet. But he stayed silent. Waiting.
They blinked, opened their dull green eyes, and stared up at Jeff, staring into his dark ones.
His hand rose slowly, fingers brushed against soft skin, tracing the edge of an eyelid before easing it shut. “Go to sleep…” he whispered.
Jeff lifted his knife, but was stopped short when they opened their eyes again to look at him. They glanced at the knife, but didn’t scream. Didn’t fight. All they did was nod as they shakily closed their eyes again. Jeff could see small tears prick the corners of their eyes as they waited for the end.
Jeff hesitates for the first time in years.
Why was he hesitating?
This was his target. His mission.
But why did nothing make sense?
If they were such a threat, why weren’t they fighting back?
None of it was adding up.
Slenderman’s whispers started bleeding into Jeff’s head:
'You’re there. Finish it.'
But Jeff doesn’t move. Something deep in him says, no. Not yet.
He was so wrapped up in his mind that he didn’t notice the way he was shaking.
Or the footsteps coming closer.
********
Grey’s pulse jumped as their head quickly snapped towards the bedroom door, hearing the floorboards in the hall creak—heavy, uneven steps moving closer.
They quickly got out of bed on shaking legs, startling the strange man in their room and quickly ushered him into the broken closet. The door hung crooked, one hinge barely holding. Jeff tilted his head, that strange grin twitching, but when they widened their eyes—pleading—he moved. They pushed the door closed behind him just as the bedroom door flew open.
Their father filled the doorway, broad shoulders shadowed in the dim light.
“What’s all this noise?” His voice was sharp, low, the kind that made the air itself shrink. “Are you trying to wake the whole house?”
Grey shook their head quickly, hands clasped tight in front of them. Their breath caught on the edge of a sob they didn’t dare let out.
His gaze swept the room: the bed half-rumpled, the faint sound of wood settling. His eyes narrowed on the broken closet door, and Grey’s heart lurched so hard it hurt. They stayed still—too still.
After a long moment, he exhaled through his nose, muttering something about “useless noise” and “always causing trouble.” The words landed heavily, even if they didn’t answer.
He turned away. The door slammed, the echo snapping through the small room.
Silence.
Grey stayed frozen until the footsteps faded down the hall. Only then did they let themselves breathe. From inside the closet came a faint creak and a whisper of movement. Jeff’s low chuckle broke the quiet—amused, almost soft.
They didn’t look at him when they opened the door. They just stepped aside, letting him out. Their hands still shook.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” The man asked them.
They didn’t make a sound. They nervously kept their eyes on the ground as they picked at their nails. Unsure of how to respond
“Hey.” He took a step closer, crouching a little to catch their eyes. “You hear me?”
They nodded. Quick. Too quick.
“So you can hear.” His voice softened, curiosity curling around the edges. “Then why—”
Their mouth opened. Nothing came out. Their lips shaped a word that never formed. After a second, they pressed their hand to their throat, then to their lips, shaking their head once.
His grin faded. Not gone—just changed. Smaller.
“Oh,” he murmured. “You can’t.”
They watched him warily, waiting for something — mockery, anger, something sharp. Instead, he only studied their hands, the way their fingers trembled against their skin.
Grey stood across from him, small and still, the faint light from the window catching in their eyes. They weren’t running. They weren’t screaming. Just watching him.
They looked down at the knife in his hand, then at him. They knew what he’d come for.
********
Jeff waited for fear. Instead, they stepped back a single pace, their hands rising—not in defense, but something gentler. A tiny shake of their head. Surrender.
Something twisted in his chest. It was unfamiliar, unwelcome. He told himself it was just hesitation, exhaustion. But when they didn’t move again, when they simply stood there in that broken little room, trusting him to finish what he came for, the air seemed to shift.
The knife felt heavier than it should have. He turned it in his fingers once, then stopped before lowering the blade. Not by much, just enough.
Grey’s breath hitched, but they didn’t look away.
“You’re not afraid,” he said quietly, though it sounded more like a question to himself.
They didn’t answer—couldn’t—but their silence said enough.
And for the first time in longer than he could remember, Jeff found he didn’t want to break it.
He stared at them for a while before making his way back to the window. He climbed down the same way he had gone up. Once Jeff hit the cold ground, he took one last look at the room he had just left and saw them standing there, watching him silently.
He looked away and started to walk back the way he came through the forest.
He told himself it’s nothing. He told himself he’ll come back when he’s ready to finish the job.
That's what he told himself.
1243 Words