ℑ𝔪𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔰𝔢. (𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔶 𝔵 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯)

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Y/N POV~

I gasp awake, unsure of where I was. The last thing I remember was a sharp pain and everything going black.

I reach behind my head and trace my finger along the nape of my neck. Sure enough there was a feeling raised and smooth body tissue. I had a scar.

I sat up confused. I was on a metal table in what looked like a really shabby hospital room. The walls and floor being concrete, and the white tiles above stained. Fluorescent tube lights hung from the ceiling, making a loud and annoying bussing sound.

My headache sounded more like static but I pushed it aside. I stumble slightly as I place my feet on the floor, standing up from the stainless steel table I was sleeping on. It reeked of fresh blood and rotting corpses. I turned and looked around a curtain to see a man with jet black hair sitting at an oak desk.

He turned in his chair and looked me dead in the eye. "So I see you're finally awake..." I gave a puzzled expression.

He sighed and stood up, walking over,
"My name is Dr. Smiley. Here at the mansion I'm accompanied by Nurse Ann and Eyeless Jack to maintain, now yours, and the other members of this households health."

Second Person POV~

You still looked confused, as it didn't explain much.

"I'm-" you began to raise up your hand for a shake as you attempted to introduce yourself, "Y/n L/n, I know. I know all about you and your past, specially your medical history. Including your little mishap with our very own, Jeff the Killer."

You recognized the name from the news and dropped your hand.

'Our very own? What is this place?'

"Now take a seat, I have more to talk to you about," he continued to speak as he motions to the table you were recently laying on.

He grabbed the rolling stool from against the wall and shifted it under him as you sat down.

"You, y/n, have been asleep for almost three months. You had a run in with Jeff as he was instructed to take you here after you took it upon yourself to run from a crime scene created to make you finally snap. From what I've heard, you're a tough one." The memories flood your mind, now realizing that yes, you were innocent. He explained the set up to you, and at this point, it didn't hit you with much surprise. You were already here, and as far as you were aware, there was nothing you could do to change it, though it did feel strange.

"When you ran, you crossed paths with Jeff, again the one assigned to bring you back here. Unharmed. But you had other priorities and took it upon yourself to end your god damn life. Which is where I come in and heal you. So boss man over here, can make you immortal. Luckily for you, you were in a coma so it didn't hurt as much." You stopped for a second to turn your head. And to your surprise, there stood a 12 foot tall man. He wore a pristine black suit, standing out against his freakishly long limbs and absolutely plane slate of a face. Every inch of his skin looked to be painted plain white and black tendrils eerily shifted from his back.

You let out a small gasp.

"Do not be scared my child," the voice rang through your head and the static dissipated.

"My name is Slenderman. Now let's make haste. You are a very valuable person. Though no longer human, you contain a once in a generation mind. Yet you lack no emotion other than remorse. It may be harsh to hear, but you are the perfect weapon. I plan to use you as my right hand man, with some training of course. But none the less, you will be working for me. There or many others like you here, though some, inhuman. All immortal, and all- my staff."

You looked on to him, somehow knowing you wouldn't gain much more information than that.

"Too avoid any altercations, I will bring you to your room to let you think about this. Any questions yet, my child?"

"Uhm, yes actually..."

"Continue-"

"Am I allowed too decline?"

You felt the aura in the room grow dark, the beings brow bone furrowed.

"No. Will that be all?" His tone of voice completely shifted, frightening you. You nod, not wanting this to be the last thing you ever bear witness too. "Good."

With that, Slenderman disappears. You went to turn to Dr. Smiley, only to notice him missing. In fact, you were in a completely different room. You look down, now sitting on a soft bed. It had your sheets from your old room. Looking around you took in your surroundings. An aged and gothic detailed red wallpaper lined your room, slightly torn at the edges. There was a vanity at the side of your bed, and on the other, between the wall and a large window, was a nightstand with a drawer and an old looking lamp on top.

There was a large light red and square rug neatly thrown over the dark oak hardwood floor, and on the opposite side of the room near the door, stood a dresser.

Your room was illuminated by the full moonlight, using this you ran your hand along the wall in search of a light switch. On the wall next too the door there was a button, in which you pressed. Your room lit up with a warm light from a ceiling fan and a hum filled the atmosphere.

You made a short walk to the dresser and began to look through your drawers. Your undergarments on the top most drawer, below it was your shirts, then your bottoms, and finally, a drawer filled with art supplies and towels. It was exactly how you had yours organized at your old home.

You moved your gaze out the window. You were two stories up in the middle of a forest that stretched for miles. You saw no other light than the moon and the ones emitted from the building.

You backed up, sitting on the bed. It felt strange. You weren't sure what to make of this situation. I mean, how were you supposed to cope with all this fantastical information being suddenly dropped on you? Were you really in a coma for three months? What was that tall being? Was this a prank? It felt like a movie.

You sighed and decided too lie down. If you were really in a coma what had happened while you were out? You had died, right? Was immortality really possible? Maybe if you just go to sleep you'll wake up in your own bed back at home.

Maybe, this was all a weird dream.