Because I Asked

    The fingers were now black, stained with blood. I sigh as I curl them back into a fist. I’m inside The Black Forest Asylum, hiding in one of the many janitorial closets. My arm’s bleeding profusely, from its recent impalement, all due thanks to the demonic little girl I just met a couple of minutes ago. I suppress a groan as I place my hand back onto the wound, and apply pressure.

    Why? Just why? Why can’t I have an easy day? Just once!

    “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” I hear the girl’s playful, yet sadistic, voice.

    I close my eyes and let out a silent groan. Please…give me five minutes, I want to yell, but I keep quiet, hoping that maybe she’ll walk past the room concealing my hiding place, the closet, but, if I'm being honest with myself, I know that’s asking for too much.

    There's a loud squeak, and the repetitive thud of footsteps drown out the sound of my breathing. The girl’s entered the room. 

    I clench my jaw tight. As I do, I curse The Sender for bringing me to this wretched place.

    “I can smell your fear," I hear the girl say and titter.

    I almost snort. "Smell my fear?" oh, how I doubt that.
    
    Don’t get me wrong, though, I am fearful at the moment, but not of her. I fear something far greater than her. I fear something far worse.

    The footsteps grow louder. The sliding beneath the door goes out, letting me know that my soon-to-be killer has stepped is dead in front of it.

    Ahh, joy.

    I slide the knife out of my front pocket, my red fingers tightening around the grip, readying for what’s next.

    The door flings open and I charge forward with the knife with a mighty cry, only to be caught midair by the freak’s tendrils. Long, slick onyx tendrils slither and tighten around my neck as I'm held suspended in the air.

    My eyes take in the strange appearance of my captive. She–no–It wears an old fashion, crimson dress, Victorian styled. Its hair is an ashen white, while its eyes: dark, hollow, empty, lifeless. Its skin is a dark morbid gray. I see several more feminine tendrils protruding from its back, as it holds me in place. Another titter creepy from its gray lips as they spread to form a wicked grin. It knows it has me. I know it too. 

    Amid this realization, I find myself wondering how the small, innocent blue eyed child I'd seen earlier turn into this?

    But as its grip tightens around my neck and I begin to struggle for air, the thought passes and the instinct of survival kicks in. I try to slash down with the knife at the tendrils holding my arms, but another appendage shoots out from its back and wraps itself around my hand. It squeezes then shakes my hand until the falls free from my grip, leaving me weaponless.

    Its unholy grin grows wider, and in a voice, that sounds nothing like a little girl says, "You're mine now."

    I stop struggling, and return only a blank stare. I don’t care that is has me. Hell! I don’t care if it kills me! In fact, I welcome the mercy of death. It would be a far kinder fate than the one I've lived for so long.

    It's a struggle, but through my gasping for air, I frown and say in a hoarse whisper, "Just go ahead and get it over with, please.” My voice sounds as dead as my indifference, and as careless as my frown.

    The freak’s eyes narrow, no doubt annoyed at my lack of interest towards my oncoming demise.

    I roll my eyes, then say, “Don’t look at me like that. Just go ahead and kill me!”

    I narrow my own eyes at its and await the its response, half-hoping it’ll impale me out of annoyance. But it doesn't. Instead, its empty sockets narrow, not out of frustration, but out of scrutiny. It studies me and tries to read something about my character, tries to find something I wish to keep hidden.

    “Why do you not fear death?” it asks.

    The question catches me off guard.

    “I…uh…” I begin, but then shake my head and say, “It doesn’t matter. Just go ahead and do it!”

    But it doesn’t. It eyes narrow so much that they look like slits in its gray visage. Something about this look unnerves me.

    “Are you going to just stand there and stare at me?" I demand, "Or are you going to-” my voices dies as something invisible stabs into my head. Pain burns in my head as something begins slice its way through my very thoughts.

    Agh!!! What is this?!  I try to scream, but I can't. The pain takes away my energy as I feel some unknown force wiggle its way and penetrate my most inner-thoughts.

    During the pain, I hear the thing coo to me, “Let’s find out, shall we?” And with that, more pain bleeds from my mind.

    Images, memories of my past life begin to flash before my eyes like a slide show. Fear drives up alongside my pain–I didn’t call forth those memories. The freak did.

    I hear it growl, disinterested as it zips through the memories of my childhood, my school, my family, but when the sight of a figure in a dark hood baring an omniscient sinister grin flashes in my mind's eyes, the image freezes. It'd reached the memory The Sender, and was now deathly silent.

    More pain erupts as its invisible hand probes further down this chain of memories and drags out it into the open. It examines the week of hell I endured. It takes an interest at my knowledge of Der Großmann's story (or "Slenderman" as so many people referred to him today). It marvels as it sees the change I underwent at the end of that past, horrible, unending nightmare from so long ago.

    After what feels like an eternity, the pain stops, and the foreign presence within my mind fades. My vision returns to me and reveals the monster staring at me, intrigued.

    “What," it asks in something like awe, "are you?”

    Knowing it’s pointless to deny the memories it witnessed, I answer, “Someone who wants to die and stay dead more than anything." I stare into its eye sockets, hoping that it can feel the pain I feel at that moment. "Someone who’s begging you to end his terrible life.”

    I ask this with the dim hope that she might end my suffering. End my torment. End my miserable life once and for all.

    She stares a moment longer at me, then without warning, the tendrils slither free and I fall to floor, surprised.

    I can feel tears welling behind my eyes, but don't dare shed as I look up and mouth, “Why?”

    “No,” it says to me and straightens itself into a firm posture. “If you find living to be a burden far worse than dying, why should I free you from it?”

    With that it turns and walks briskly away, leaving me alone to cope with the thought of how close I’d come to escape.

    As the last of the echoes of its footsteps fade away, in a low voice, I say aloud to no-one,

“Because I asked.”