Entry 18

Day 72 - Monday

I guess this will be my last entry for a while. The bank will open soon, so I'm heading there as soon as I finish this, and then I’m going to start driving. North, I think. Where it’s colder. I always did like it cold.

I would have liked to say good bye to Alex.

But it’s too late for that.

I woke up last night, just a few minutes after I had gone to bed. There were no noises. The lights were all on. All the doors were still closed. If he was there, he wasn’t doing anything, and I fell back asleep fine.

I wonder if his power is somehow waning. Maybe just defying him weakens him.

The next time I woke up, I don’t know how long it had been. When I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see a thing. There was a thickness to the air, like it had turned to fog, or smoke, and my lungs felt sticky. I felt my diaphragm convulse as I tried to cough, but the air stuck in my lungs and I could only get out the barest amount of breath. It continued as I started to sit up, but something felt wrong, like the rest of my body wasn’t sure how to respond. I felt trapped in my own head. All I could do was look around and will my body to move as it lay there, useless.

I started to worry I was paralyzed, but I could still feel my legs, my arms, like that sensation just when they fall asleep, just before the pins and needles start, when they’re just heavy and almost numb.

Then there was pressure on my arm. I looked over, and there was

That face. That god that face.

I almost threw up, if my body was capable of it. He just watched, bent over my bed, one hand resting on my arm, the other reaching

My face. He just touched my forehead, like he was checking my temperature, then ran his hand, cold and wet and sticky and so

Sharp. Like being cut and then frozen as he ran his hand down my face to my neck and I could feel him slice across my neck. He just watched my eyes without moving, that vacuum that hollow empty face. I could almost feel my blood gush hot down my throat and then freeze against his hand.

I sat bolt upright, and it was over. The lights were on. I did throw up then, barely made it to the bathroom in time. I looked in the mirror where he had touched me.

Down my cheek and across my neck was a continuous line of pale skin, like the blood hadn’t returned to the area yet, and when I checked this morning it was still there.

He can’t get to me when I’m this close to escaping. I won’t let him. He may think he's marked me, but this is just a survivor's scar.

I don’t know if there’s anyone out there, reading this. If you are, though, just know that I won, in the end, and it’s going to be a long victory.

I hope I don’t drive off and forget something. I always do that.

Entry 17

Day 71 - Sunday

It’s about two in the morning. I woke up a few minutes ago when I heard a knock from the front of the house. After a few seconds, I heard it again.

                                                                                                                                  

I crept out of bed and headed down the hall. God, I’m so tired of doing that. So tired.

The noise was coming every ten seconds or so.

Thud

Thud

Thud

I followed it to a window and looked out. In the moonlight, I could see a raccoon outside. It was staggering backwards, then it took a bounding stride and leapt against the side of the house, just below the window sill.

Thud

What the hell was He doing?

Thud

I watched the creature continue for at least five minutes, and even as the fur of its head became matted with blood, it didn’t slow or even hesitate once.

Thud

Thud

Thud

Finally, with the same unwavering resolve, it leapt one last time, and a wet crunch accentuated the impact as its skull gave out.

And He as there.

Or, rather, I was now allowed to see Him there, since he’d probably been there all along. Just like last night, the malice was gone. He was simply

He was just there. He slowly cocked his head with small, twitchy jerks, but was otherwise completely still.

So I left.

You hear me? I walked. Away. You’re nothing. What was that, a going away present? Because after tomorrow, you’ll never see me again, and you know it. Your favorite toy is leaving and you can’t do anything and you know it.

Fuck. You.

I’m going back to sleep.

Entry 16

Day 70 - Saturday

I finished packing all my clothes and other necessary things. I checked my car’s fluid levels and loaded up as much nonperishable food as I could. The bank is closed tomorrow, so I’m going to have to wait until Monday at least to leave.

He watched me the whole time I was getting ready. I was coughing constantly while I made preparations. For the most part, I just had that sick, tingling feeling that he was there, but

While I was rummaging around in the kitchen, I looked out the window and saw Him standing in the yard, twenty feet from the house. I wanted to run back to my room and shut all the doors and blinds, but I fought the urge and stayed rooted to the spot. He didn’t move. He just watched. After several minutes of staring at him, I forced myself to go back to clearing out the pantry. Every few seconds I’d glance back out the window, but he was always in the same spot. I gave one last look before returning to my bedroom to write up this entry before I went to sleep. He was gone.

Entry 15

Day 69 - Friday

I just got out of the emergency room. Apparently I

Well, I woke up in the shower again, in the same position as last time it happened. Except this time, the pill bottle was empty, and I could barely stand.

I managed to crawl to the phone and call an ambulance, though it took several tries to get the right words out- it was like my tongue was trying to form different words as I spoke.

I blacked out again, but I must have given them enough information because I felt a pinch in my arm, and woke up in an ambulance to an EMT placing an IV. He was saying something, but all I heard was a dull rumble.

I woke up on a hospital bed several hours later. It was evening, but the fluorescent lights in my room were still on, and they were blinding to my sore eyes. My mouth was dry, and there was an acidic taste on my tongue. I tried to move, but my whole body was aching, and it caused a slight tug in my nose. My throat felt tight, and I coughed, which only made it worse. I tried to call out, but I couldn’t say anything, and I started to panic when I realized I could barely breathe on my own.

I was coughing and gagging when a nurse rushed in and calmed me down. She told me she would bring a doctor in to remove the tube in my nose since I was awake and capable of breathing alone.

After the tube was out, my throat was still sore and I still couldn’t stop coughing, but at least I could speak. The doctor immediately started in with the twenty questions, ultimately coming down to why I had tried to kill myself. He obviously didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t, and that I had no memory of the previous night, and no, I wasn’t depressed, and no, there was no history of psychological disorders in my family.

They finally discharged me, but they gave me some pamphlet about suicide help or some nonsense that I threw away on the way out. I called a cab and went home.

He doesn’t want me to leave. I’ve got to get out before he actually kills me.

Entry 14

Day 67 - Wednesday

Today was a good day. I slept well last night. I didn’t see Him. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I wasn’t even afraid to leave the house, or look out the window when I got home from work tonight. It seemed like maybe he decided to give me a break. 

Then I found this minimized on my computer when I sat down to write an entry.

I don’t remember writing this.

He’s here. Behind me. I can feel him. I can taste him. I can’t stop coughing. He’s here. He’s here he’s here and he’s going to kill me he’s here. I don’t want to die. i dont want to die i dont want to die idontwanttodieidontwanttodieiontwantodieidotnwanttodieidowntantodieidowntwantdie Why hasn’t he killed me yet. WHYHAVENTYOUKILLEDMEYET. I KNOW YOU CAN READ THIS YOU SON OF A BITCH WHY. DO IT.

do it

do it

do it

do it.

Do. It.

Do. it. you. piece. of. shit.

you dont have anything you no good lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

After this, the l’s go on for 217 more pages. I timed it: it takes three and a half minutes to fill a page if the key is held continuously. I sat at the computer and held the key down for twelve and a half hours and I don’t remember it at all. And it’s not that I just don’t remember it. He made me do it. He’s started to take direct control, and I didn’t even realize I was missing half my day.

He just gives me a break so he can come back and put me through a new hell.

I did more research. I looked deeper into some of the stories and reports of the others out there.

Apparently, there are two types of us: those who run, who are constantly on the move, and those who stay, who fortify their homes and fight. The odds of the ones who run are never good. Most seem to either eventually get caught, and just disappear, or they’re still running. The ones who stay

Well, they never last very long. So there’s not much of a choice, now. I’m leaving. I’m getting as much cash as I can and then I’m driving as far as I can before I stop. I’ll figure the rest out after that.

I’m leaving a note on my front door for Alex. I wish there was a way I could make her understand it.

They were dead. I saw it.

All of them. All of them. All of them in all of the pieces all over everywhere.

I was leaving and then I was back again. Starting my car to leave and then I was back in the office again. Leaving and then back again leaving and then back again.

And they were dead. And He was there and they were dead just like the rabbits just like the bird just like the pieces all over Him.

Oh Alex, what did he do to you? Oh Alex Alex alex alex alex alex what did the evil man do to you?

But it wasn't real it ended.

Back and then leaving again back and then leaving again.                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                                                                 There's vomit on my shirt.                                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

                                                                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

                                                                                                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                                                                                           I don't remember how I got home.

Entry 13

Day 52 - Tuesday

It’s amazing how quickly the human mind can learn to cope. So many stories about how fragile the mind is, how susceptible to the impossible, always just teetering on the edge of madness, ready to plunge at the slightest provocation, but still it clings to reality.

It’s been over a week since my last encounter. I haven’t found any signs of his presence, I haven’t felt him watching my back all the time, and even that symbol in the parking lot at work is gone. I can sleep again, and the nightmares only wake me up a few times a night. I’m not sure why it’s stopped. Maybe even he takes holidays. Maybe he found someone else. Maybe he just got bored, found a new hobby. Maybe The Slender Man took up stamp collecting instead of people collecting.

Life has slowly reverted to normal. My coworkers have stopped giving me those strange looks, full of pity and worry and fear. They started smiling at me again. I started smiling back.

Alex still seems fine, and hasn’t given me any indication that she remembers anything about him, or that she’s being followed.

I started turning off some of the lights at night. Not all of them, of course, but a few: mostly the closet lights. I’m not afraid to go into the bathroom anymore. Not as afraid, in any case.

Okay, it doesn’t sound that much better, I guess. But I’m no longer afraid to blink, so I’m just going to chalk that one up as a win.