Drapetomania | Creepypasta

31.

??, ??, 2017

Tim's whispered words held a heavy burden, one he had been carrying for far too long. His question echoed through the room, and I couldn't help but feel the turmoil in his voice. "Do you really think I want to be here?" he muttered, a mixture of pain and frustration etched on his face.

My heart ached as I listened to him, my gaze flickering between him and the newspaper articles adorning the wall. The headlines spoke of unsolved murders, mysterious disappearances, and a darkness that had overshadowed his life. When Tim finally confessed, "I killed my friend... I'm the reason I'm here," I felt the weight of his admission pressing down on both of us.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him, trying to understand the torment he had endured. I couldn't even begin to imagine the darkness of his past, the guilt he carried, and the demons that had haunted him.

My hand trembled as I reached out to touch his shoulder. "Tim," I whispered softly, using the name he had revealed. "I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine what you've been through."

The agony in his eyes was heart-wrenching. I continued, my voice filled with compassion, "You don't have to bear this alone. You can get help, face your past, and find some kind of redemption. But you have to let people in, Tim. You can't keep shutting everyone out like this."

Tim slowly shook his head, and the despair in his voice was evident. "dont call me that," he admitted, his tone heavy with resignation. "It's too late for me."

I couldn't help but feel a rush of compassion for Tim as he revealed the painful truth about his past. My heart ached for him, and as he sat there, shrouded in darkness, I extended my hand toward his mask. With a soft, understanding smile, I touched the cold, emotionless surface.

"Tim," I whispered, my voice filled with warmth and determination, "when I leave here, I'm taking you with me. You don't have to be alone in this. I know you're a good person deep down, and I want to help you find your way back."

For a brief moment, it felt as if the room had a glimmer of hope, but then Tim moved my hand away and stepped back. His voice was stern as he uttered, "Get out of my room."

My heart sank, and I couldn't comprehend why he was pushing me away. Desperation filled my voice as I begged him, "Please, don't shut me out. I'm scared, Tim, and I feel safe when I'm around you. Just... let me stay here with you."

Tim's expression remained cold, his resolve unyielding as he repeated, "Get out of the room."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I was at a loss for words. It was clear that Tim had built walls around himself, walls that even my earnest pleas couldn't break down. The pain in his eyes matched the agony in his voice, and I couldn't help but wonder if I had pushed him too far.

My pleas became more desperate as Tim, or Masky, pushed me away, his voice turning into a forceful shout. "Stay away from me! All you bring is bad luck!"

Tears streamed down my face, my vision blurred by the overwhelming emotions I was experiencing. His harsh words cut deep, and the slamming of the door behind me felt like a final, resounding echo of rejection. I was left standing in the dimly lit hallway, my face tear-stained, my eyes puffy, and my nose running.

As the door closed, my heart felt heavy, and the realization of how much pain Tim was carrying weighed on me. I turned around, only to find Hoodie standing in front of me. The sight of his blank, featureless face sent a shiver down my spine.