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I stared at the mark, trying to calm my quickening breathing, my heart beginning to race. I took slow, deep breaths—in through the nose, out through the mouth. I felt dizzy, and my ears began to ring lightly. My hands reached forward to grab the counter's edge, keeping myself upright. My eyes drifted back to the mirror, staring at my reflection.

'I'm okay. I'm here. I'm alive. I'm okay.' I kept repeating in my mind like a mantra, grounding myself from the rising panic. But it worked. I calmed enough to think more clearly. Staring at my reflection, I took small mental notes. I was in pain, but it wasn't bad; mainly, I was extremely sore, so sore that it felt like a constant aching pain all through my body, weaving through the fibers of my muscles, penetrating down to my bones. I could see the slightest involuntary twitches of my muscles writhing below my skin. My vision felt so much sharper and precise. Every little detail was intense; I could see my own movements before I even thought about making them. It was strange, and it would definitely take some getting used to. But I accepted it. This was my new reality, and I was ready to embrace it. I chose this.

There was something else. Something deep inside my chest was squirming. I tried locating the feeling, but my mind fell blank. I felt whole except for something small. It felt hollow, missing, gone. I shook the feeling away; it wasn't important right now. My ear twitched, I could hear sounds all around me, all throughout the house. Footsteps echoing, distant chatter, I could even make out a few words here and there. Another twitch, and I honed in on a pair of footsteps approaching, closer and closer. The soft knock on the door still made me jump.

"(Y/n)? You're up?" It was Sally, her tiny voice sounded so loud in my ears. I took another shaky breath, grabbed my shirt off the ground, and quickly squirmed back into it. The fibers felt like dozens of tiny needles digging into my skin.

"Uh, yeah, I'm up." I smoothed out the wrinkles before turning, opening the bathroom door, and peering out. She stared up at me with bright green eyes sparkling with wonder, looking at me in awe and excitement.

"Whoa! You look so pretty!" My ears twitched again, and I winced slightly as her voice pierced through the air. She quickly lowered her voice further.

"Sorry-oh wow! Your eyes!" She raised her hands, gesturing me to lower myself to her height. I did just that, opening the door further before kneeling before the child. She combed her hands through my hair before grabbing my cheeks, turning my head side to side, and looking me over. She brushed tiny fingers across my ears, looking at my eyes closely, even making me open my mouth to admire my new teeth. She admired my black nails, giving me a once-over before nodding.

"You look perfect!" She lightly clapped her hands together before grabbing mine with a tug. I quickly stood, my thighs aching with that bone-deep soreness. She dragged me eagerly out of the room and down the familiar hallways into the living room, already full of the faces I have come to know all too well.

"She's awake! But keep quiet! Her ears hurt!" Sally scolded them prematurely. Another twitch, her voice raising slightly before returning to a whisper. Figures quickly stood from the couch and surrounded me, looking me over, mostly keeping their hands to themselves. A million questions flew through the air in hushed whispers, but with how close they were, it was still so, so loud.

"How are you feeling?"

"Does anything hurt?"

"Are you okay?"

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Did you see yourself yet?"

"Do you feel any different?"

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Too warm, hun? Or are you cold?"

I was overwhelmed, unable to find my voice to answer any of their questions. I stayed silent, wincing slightly, my ears pinned back and lowered as I grimaced. With just that one action, all their voices fell away into a deafening yet peaceful quiet. I took a slow, deep breath, feeling my lungs painfully expanding in my chest, my bones pulsing with an ache.

"I…I feel…weird. Everything's so loud and bright, I hurt. I… I'm really hungry." With that, the small crowd dispersed, and a pair of soft, gentle hands grabbed my left one, thumb rubbing over the back of my hand. Jane smiled as
soft
as ever, her eyes kind and tender, gently pulling me to the dining room while a few of the others gathered in the kitchen together, mumbling about what to make. Yet, despite how quiet they were trying to be, I could hear it all clear as day.

"Maybe just a simple salad?"

"No, she needs some meat, something with beef or chicken."

"M-m-maybe a soup?"

"Nah, something more solid; her jaws gotta be hurtin', but she's gotta work out the pain, ya know?"

"Maybe she'll try some kidneys?-"

"No!" "No! “N-n-no!” They all angrily whispered together at Jack's idea in unison, and I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. Jane sat me down, sitting to my left, still holding my hand, almost in disbelief that it was back. Two others sat with me, migrating from the kitchen to the table. Toby sat to my right, and both Laughing Jack and Ben sat across from me on the other side. It was silent, but I could almost hear the millions of thoughts rushing through their minds; I could see their throats moving with each swallowing down of a question, how their eyes twitched with curiosity. They wanted to speak but were too worried to. Or maybe it was just relief that I was okay that they didn't dare ruin the moment. Either way, it was peaceful. Finally, Toby spoke first, but no eyes turned away from me.

"W-w-we're so happy y-y-you're back." His stutter wasn't just his typical tic; no, he was holding back a sob, his voice breaking, but not daring to let himself cry. At least not yet. I turned to him, smiling, seeing the genuine sparkle of care in his eyes.

"I'm happy to be back, too. How…how long was I out for?" There was a long pause, but Ben answered first.

"A…while," He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment longer. "What was it like?"

"Ben!" Jane scolded while Jack smacked the back of his head.

"Why would she wanna talk about that!?" Jack whisper-yelled at the blonde, sharp teeth slightly bared. My lip curled up slightly, a low rumble rolling through my throat for only a second before I caught it, blinking away the moment of blankness and clearing my throat. Still, the attention was already back on me, all looking a mix of curious, confused, and worried.

"Sorry…"

"What was that..?" Jane leaned forward, looking at my face with furrowed brows.

"I'm not sure… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's okay. Everything's new; you're just getting used to your new body." She patted my shoulder softly, and I felt Toby's comforting hand on my upper back, right between the shoulder blades. An image of the tattoo—that black marking—flashed through my mind, and I could almost feel it burning my skin. But I kept it in.

"What do you mean 'what was it like'?" I turned my gaze back up to Ben, and I realized my ears were mimicking the same movements as his. His twitched, and mine did too. Then they raised slightly more at the question, and mine mirrored suit.

"Well, when we each went through…that, we all experienced something different. Not with the creepy water-thing, but after that." I hummed, one ear raising up, the other lowering as I thought, and his matched mine this time. I blinked and furrowed my brows, trying to remember. But my mind feels blank.

"I'm not sure…I don't remember."

"That's fine, hun. You'll remember in time. But it's also a

personal

question,

Ben

." She glared at him, and he shrugged with a cheeky smile.

"Just curious, can you blame me? I bet you were wondering, too." Jane sputtered for a second before Jack interrupted, leaning across the table, blocking each other's view of one another.

"No fightin', not when she just woke up! 'Kay?" The two just rolled their eyes, Jane annoyed and Ben sarcastically smiling. Jack looked between the two before turning back to me, grinning widely.

"But you do remember everything else! Right?" I slowly nodded, not having any gaps in my memory.

"You remember the circus? The cotton candy? The funhouse?" I nodded again, slowly growing confused with the questions, but another flash arced through my mind. His desperate screaming and crying face as we fell through the air, as I tried to push his face away in terror. The utter heartbreak and brokenness of his expression still made my heart ache even now.

"I remember Jack, you and everyone else, and everything you all showed me." He beamed even brighter, lighting up like the afternoon sun.

"You r-r-remember the br-braids?" I nodded to Toby.

"The badass legs and arm I gave you?" I smiled at Ben.

"Teasing you about the differences between a swimsuit and lingerie-"

"Jane!" I could feel my face burning up as all four laughed together, holding their hands over their mouths to try to muffle them as much as possible for my poor ears. But I couldn't help but join their laughter. The moment was sweet and calm. It was relaxing, and it felt so
normal
. But I couldn't ignore the gnawing thing inside me. It was just a tiny, ticking thing. I couldn't pinpoint it, but I couldn't ignore it either. Despite the distractions they provided, I was constantly aware of the feeling.

We sat for a while, quietly murmuring, but soon the conversation fell into a somewhat comfortable silence. There was still tension, questions yearning to be asked, but tongues were held, and worries were pushed aside for the time being. More and more of the others joined us at the table, placing bowls in front of us and the empty chairs before taking their own seats until the whole group sat together for a fresh, hot meal once again.

A deep brown broth, chunks of soft vegetables, and tender beef floating through the stew. The smell was intoxicating. Saliva filled my mouth, and I didn't hesitate to dig in, grabbing the spoon and lifting spoonful and spoonful to my lips. It burned my tongue, but the taste was buttery and rich. I didn't care that it was too hot; I was slammed with hunger that I just couldn't give a damn. I just needed to eat. I heard someone lightly chuckle off to my side. I barely even realized that I was hunched over the bowl, my face practically in the bowl, lapping at the stew like a dog.

"Slow down, hun; we don't need you choking now," Jane spoke lightheartedly, lightly
placing a hand on
my shoulder. My head snapped to face her, once more a low growl emanating through my throat, louder now, teeth bared and ears raised. I couldn't restrain it. One thought raced through my mind then: she would take my food away. It was some sick, innate reaction, something I couldn't control. I stopped as fast as it happened, and she yanked her hand away, shocked, brows
raised,
and eyes wide.

"Sorry-"

"No, no, it's okay. That happened to some of us, too, hun. You'll learn." I grimaced, still feeling guilty for showing any aggression towards her or any of them. Towards Jack for hitting Ben, now at Jane for simply touching me? I cleared my throat, staring down at the stew, not daring to look at anyone else, and now eating slower. I would lift the spoon back up to my lips, gently blowing away the steam before taking a bite, chewing thoroughly before swallowing and repeating. The room was silent as we all ate. I finished my bowl first, licking my lips and scooping up any last drop of broth I could scrape from the bowl with my spoon. I ran my tongue across my teeth, feeling the new, sharper fangs pressing into my flesh.

"Do you want any more?" I looked up, seeing Tim scooting his half-full bowl across the table towards me. I hesitated, but he nodded toward me, and I happily, yet hesitantly, reached forward and grabbed the bowl. I did not even bother with my spoon; instead, I lifted the ceramic dish to my lips and drank the broth, slurping in any meat and veggies, chewing, and swallowing before continuing to eat. I set the empty bowl down, sighing contently, now
full
and satisfied.

"Feeling b-b-better?" I nodded, smiling at Toby. I stood up, grabbing the two bowls before me, stacking them with my spoon on the top.

"I'll help ya." Jeff stood up, too, grabbing the empty bowls from around the table and walking with me to the kitchen. He washed the dishes before handing them to me to dry them off, making a neat stack of now-clean bowls and silverware. The sound of the running water was calming, like white noise, but the air was still void of conversation, leaving my mind to dwell back on that feeling. Jeff occasionally glanced at me, and I could only assume my expression showed more than I tried to hide.

"What's bothering ya?" He was quiet, but the usual harshness of his voice was instead softer. He wasn't facing me directly, still focused on his task, even slowing down, taking his time to scrub away at gravy and rinsing down leftover bits of vegetables. It wasn't confrontation; no, it was a concern. I purse my lips, thinking carefully. I wasn't even sure what was bothering me; it was just that feeling I couldn't locate or describe. All I could do was be honest and upfront. Besides, if there
was
anyone to have a blunt, honest conversation with, it'd be Jeff, with his brutal, cruel, straightforward honesty.

"I'm not sure. I feel...weird."

"Like what?"

"I don't know how to describe it."

"Then try. Are ya angry? Sad? Pissed off at the world or yourself?" I hummed, pausing momentarily, staring down at the still-wet white bowl in my hands, my black nails a stark contract against the ceramic. I tapped the bowl, a light clinking resonating
for a moment
as I thought.

"It's not anger or sadness. I do not feel hungry anymore, so it's not that. Maybe it's a little scared? But not of any of you, and I don't think I'm scared of myself. Maybe I'm scared of what I'll do, but that doesn't feel right either. It feels kind of...empty?" He paused, glancing at me again before
looking back down at
the dishes.

"Do you feel alone?" I hummed but shook my head.

"No, not that either. But...similar?" There was another long pause.

"Do you want to be alone?" I hesitated, thinking long and hard for a moment.

"Maybe? I can't really tell." He hummed lightly, tapping on a bowl before rinsing it off and handing it to me. I rubbed the towel in my hands across the porcelain, drying it off before adding it to the stack of dishes.

"I think you should talk to the boss then. All that weird mind shit he can do can probably help ya." I gave a curt nod as we finished the last of the dishes. He shooed me off before I could help put them away, taking care of them himself as Brian gave me a short wave, beckoning me to him at the doorway.

"Feeling better?"

"I guess." He raised an eyebrow for only a moment before his face fell into a resting state again.

"I'll take you to the office."

"I remember where it is." He shrugged with a soft smile.

"Eh, you just woke up, gotta make sure you're still stable, mentally and physically. Just precautions." I made an 'oh' face, slowly nodding my head.

"Gotcha." He gestured with his head for me to follow. The walk was short through the living room and down the familiar adjacent hallway, but Brian seemed to be moving slower than usual, delaying me seeing Slender. Once at the doors, he hesitated before lifting his hand and knocking softly. It still sounded so loud; everything did. Our footsteps, our breathing, any hushed conversation made my ears twitch, and my fingers would flinch and curl up.

"Enter." The wispy, echoing voice whispered through the air; it felt more soothing in my mind than in my ears, but I still processed it as uncomfortably loud. Brian pushed the door open. I had never noticed the squeaking before, but now I could hear the hinges creaking with the simple movement. I walked in, vision focused on the tall, pale figure sitting in his chair, writing on a piece of paper, his handwriting elegant and loopy. It looked like cursive, but I couldn't read it; it wasn't a language I knew.

"Thank you, Brian. Please join the others; I'll talk with (Y/n) alone." The man stayed silent, and only the door clicking shut signified that he had left. I took an all too familiar seat across from Slender, staying silent as he finished his writing, looking the letter over before setting the fountain pen down in a small circular ink pot. He pushed the paper aside before finally turning his full attention to me. He didn't say anything for a moment, looking over my face before finding his words.

"My, it's lovely to see you again, my dear. How are you feeling?" His usually calm and collected tone held some excitement to it; my ears lowered, and his voice softened near the end. I fidgeted with my hands in my lap and could feel my ears flicking and twitching. I stared down at the wooden walnut desk, tracing the lines of the swirling grain, smooth and polished. I felt comfortable with him, but I had a rising anxiety knotting up in my stomach. I fell back onto instinct, closing my eyes and breathing deeply, opening my mind to him, my thoughts unfolding like a book for him to read and thumb through. But he didn't speak; he waited for me to think or say something first, and finally, I did.

"I feel weird. I don't feel right. This body is fine, but I just have this weird feeling. Like there's a hole inside me, just this...empty pit. Something's missing, but I don't know what. I don't feel scared or tired or hungry or angry. I'm not numb, just empty." I replayed the short conversation with Jeff in my mind for him to see. He hummed, tapping the desk and leaning forward.

"Not sad or upset, not tired or hungry, but empty? This is odd. Is there something on your mind that's bothering you?" I shook my head.

"Did anyone do or say anything that could have upset you?" I shook my head again.

"Hmm...may I try something?"

"Of course." He gestured to my hand, and I carefully lifted it up to him. He cupped my palm gently, and the black mark fizzled into my skin, the protective circle and x mark. He rubbed his thumb across the mark, and a wave of dizziness slammed into me. My whole body felt wavey as if made of water or air; I felt drained of all sense of self, like an empty vessel, before I slowly began to be filled up again. A presence not mine but his, as if our beings were merging together, our two separate minds conjoining into one unit. I could feel what he felt, and I could see what he saw and hear what he heard. I could feel my own hand in his palm, just how tiny my hand felt in his, all from his perspective. I could see my face through his vision, eyes closed and expression slightly tensed and uncomfortable, how my ears flicked up and down, how locks of my hair fell across my forehead and tickled my cheeks. I could hear my own heartbeat, a strong, calm thrumming, steady.

I could see him walking through my memories, hazy images passing by like ghosts from the past. My mother's face was such a haunting image to see, nearly the only face in my memories for years until I managed to leave and then until I met these supernatural beings. He walked down the corridor of recollections before finding strings like piano wires at the end, strings from the top to the bottom in a void-like space. I watched him as he traced his fingers across the silver strings, feeling what each one felt: anger, sadness, fear, boredom, loneliness, love, and hurt. Each of them was strung up between my mind and heart, yet they were all still. None sang a haunting melody of emotion. They were all stagnant. He weaved his way through the wires, caressing each one, feeling what emotion it tied itself to, listening for its hum, but when it was silent, he moved on to the next. A web of wires glistening in invisible light, in a black void, each waiting for a time to sing a symphony of its own. But only until he was at the very end, in the farthest back, were two lone wires isolated from all the rest, about a foot apart from each other.

The one on the right was silent and still, and even though it was silver, it looked dulled and grayed out, little spots of muted rust coating the string. The left wire, however, was humming and vibrating, glistening bright silver with almost a reddish hue to it. It sang a low-pitched note, humming and echoing around. I watched as he first touched the rusted right wire, feeling the string between his thumb and index finger. In myself, I could feel a deep sense of loss and confusion, a heartache I had never known before. In him, I could feel a pained sympathy for something I could never get to know or experience; he seemed to understand something I didn't.

He slowly lifted his hand to the left one, pinching the humming string, and that odd, empty feeling overtook me again. There was a bizarre swirling of emotions again, and I could finally decipher it with him. There was disgust and apathy, hopelessness and isolation, something simultaneously ice cold and burning, raging hot. There was anger, but not towards any specific thing or anyone. He only felt sadder. He held onto both strings for a long while, almost as if trying to turn off the left one and trying to get the right one to sing. But nothing happened. He tried to strum the rusted wire, but it was stiff and taught, only making a strained, screeching sound for a second before falling silent again.

The separation was instant and disorienting. I had to blink hard to clear the fog from my mind. The feeling of just one being, myself, refilling my body was strange. It was like my skin was removed and shared, and now I was putting it back on, feeling the stretched-out flesh shrinking and readjusting back to my form, filling my body back out thoroughly with just my one soul.

I looked back across the desk at him after regaining my senses, and even with the lack of facial features, I could sense in the air just how tense and worried he was, I could feel the sadness and heartache radiating off of him, I could

see

the sorrow and pain on his nonexistent face. Where eyebrows should be, his smooth skin was wrinkled up and furrowed, the hollows where there would be eyes were squinted, and I could almost imagine a deep frown drawn across his features.

"Oh, (Y/n)..." His voice was so quiet that even my hearing could barely make out his words. He sounded so bleak. For once, he was at a loss for words, unable to find what to say or what to tell me. He sighed, lowered his head, and tapped the desk, the stress evident. He finally looked back up at me. He looked so small, hunched over the desk, almost curled in on himself, helpless. It was unsettling to see.

"Why don't you go outside and get some fresh air? You've been holed up in here for so long, dear." He sounded so unsure of his words, but I didn't argue. I just gave a slight nod and stood up, turning and leaving the room, giving him one last look over my shoulder, his head held in his hands, knee shaking. I closed the door softly behind me, standing alone in the hallway. I stood there for a long while, listening to my heartbeat and breathing, all slow and steady. I felt a strange sense of peace wash over me, and that empty feeling inside me felt smaller. I carefully walked down the hall and towards the front doors, staring at them for a long while before finally reaching for the icy-cold doorhandle and twisting it open. I only opened the door a sliver, snaking my way out before closing it with a soft click.

The sky was a bright blue, but there was a dark cloud forming above the house. There was still a thick blanket of snow over the ground and trees, but small patches were melting away, revealing the bright green grass below. The porch's wood was cold below my feet, but I barely felt it compared to the wave of peace and serenity that washed over me. I took a step forward, then another, and another. Out into the snow and towards a patch of grass, where a single flower was bloomed, soft petals gently blowing in the wind. Crouching down, I softly cupped a hand around the small tulip, admiring the beautiful pink hue of it. The longer I was out here, the more that empty feeling began to disappear. I sat down in the grass, the wetness of the melted snow soaking into my shorts, but I couldn't care. I felt free with the fresh wind blowing in my face, the cold seeping into my bones, and the calm and quiet of
it all
. I felt happy.

I fell backward, my torso landing in the snow, arms outspread, closing my eyes, and breathing in the outside world. The cold was almost painful, but it felt dulled. I recognized the sensation, but my body refused to feel the stinging pain of it; my mind could not process it, would not. A massive gust of wind whipped up, blowing hard against my skin like millions of tiny needles, but it felt like an extra layer of cloth or armor across my body; the normal pain accompanying it was barely even noticeable. It was nothing more than a dull pressure with the faintest prick in the back of my mind.

Inhaling deeply, letting my lungs fill with the frigid air all around me, exhaling, watching the plumes of fog leave my lips. In and out. In. Out. My heartbeat was steady, a strong thud in my chest. I felt the blood rushing through my arms and legs, gathering up in my chest before spreading out again. I focused on the sensations. On my body. I was alive, feeling every function of my body continuing to live on. In the solitude, I felt so much more alive. I felt painfully alive.

My ears twitched at the doors creaking open. They didn't need to call my name; I felt the pull in my mind. I only tilted my head back, the world flipped upside down, staring at the figures on the porch. Slender and Sally, with the rest of the group, stood behind them, their faces shrouded by the
shadow of the house
. I didn't move. Neither did they. We watched each other, waiting. Slender moved first, reaching down, slightly hunched, holding Sally's hand and leading her out to me. I rolled over and sat up, snow falling off my head and back down to the ground. When they reached me, Slender knelt to meet both Sally and me. He looked between the two of us before giving Sally a soft nod. The little girl's lip trembled, but she sucked in a sharp breath, steeling her shaking hands into fists.

"(Y/n)," Her voice shook, almost breaking. She breathed deeply again, closing her eyes briefly before looking at me again. Her eyes were glassy, but she held her head high and refused to let herself cry. She tried again.

"(Y/n), I know you want to go, and that's okay. You need to do what you feel is right and what makes you happy. We know you still care about all of us, and we want to let you know." As she spoke, she found it harder and harder to keep her composure, a few tears falling down her cheeks, but not letting herself fall apart with them.

"We still love y-you. We al-always will! You c-can always c-c-come back when-whenever you w-want." Her whole body was shaking now; she was trying so hard to stay strong. Not just for herself, not just for me, but for everyone. I carefully reached forward, grabbing her arms and pulling her a little closer, looking at her face and smiling.

"And I love you too, all of you, no matter what. I cannot describe how grateful I am for meeting you all and just how thankful I am for what you've all done for me. But...I don't know what I'm feeling, I don't understand my new body, and all my thoughts are just a mess. I think...I think it'd be best for me to leave for a while and figure all this out, ya know? Please believe me when I say that I am not leaving because of

any

of you; I'm leaving because of me. I don't know how to explain it, but just..." My words fell away from me, not knowing how to describe it, but Sally nodded her head in understanding. She finally began to cry and hiccup. I pulled her into a tight hug, holding the back of her head on my shoulder as she sobbed, her tiny hands gripping the back of my shirt. I closed my eyes, gently rocking her side to side.

The feeling of someone touching me left painful thorns digging into my skin, but I bared through it. I cared about
her
far too much to care about my
own
comfort, so I would gladly sit there for however long it took to reassure
her
. The longer I held her, the more new feelings dug and bore their way into my heart. They weren't my own—the heartache and emotional turmoil, the sense of loss and never knowing. I felt hurt and despair, 'what ifs' and 'maybe's,' a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings flooding into me. All of them. I felt all of their thoughts and emotions; most were confusing, but only a few I could pinpoint. I wanted to feel bad, feel guilty, but I didn't; I couldn't feel it at all. It wasn't that I wasn't allowing myself; I simply couldn't.

A bag was softly placed beside me in the snow. I looked up, the figure already retreating, covering
her
face, silky black hair flowing with each gust of wind. I was okay with it. I didn't think I could even face Jane if I wanted to. There was a pull in my mind, my gaze falling to Slender, who
still
knelt beside me and Sally. He held out a hand, and I knew what it meant. I lifted my right hand, hovering it over his palm. There was a soft, sad hum in the air, the black mark appearing, its surface shimmering like ripples on water, and it began to peel off my skin in small fragments, dissipating into ash before even touching the ground. It was gone in just a few seconds, and all the feels and connections it brought with it were gone, too. The familiar pull that I had gotten used to that led me to Slender or Toby or Brian or Tim was now entirely gone. I couldn't feel them, and they could no longer feel me.

At least they wouldn't have to feel my pain anymore.

Sally finally let go of me. She held back her sobs and held her head high, but her flushed, tear-stained cheeks, pink nose, and red eyes told me all I needed to know. I ran my fingers through her hair, smoothing out any flyaways, and kissed the top of her head. Her tiny body shook, but I still felt nothing.

"I'm sorry." I wasn't sure if I actually was, but it was the only thing I could say. She stayed silent, pulling herself out of my arms and grabbing Slender's hand, the tall being slowly leading her away from me and back to the porch, trudging through the snow with the weight of the situation heavy on their hearts.

I stood, grabbing the bag and slinging it over my shoulder. It looked and moved as if it were heavy, but it felt so light in my hands. I breathed
in
deeply, the cold air filling my lungs before exhaling, leaving a puff of vapor in the air. My feet moved before I even thought of it. Walking forward into the tree line. Not once did I look back. I couldn't. I let my feet map my path, forging on ahead, and despite the gut-wrenching scream that called out my name, finally crying out for me not to leave, I didn't flinch, didn't think of it.

I ignored her and just kept walking.

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