6.

As I patched my arm up, Dahlia ran me over with questions. Blubbering about how scared she was when she saw the blood and such, to which I answered with a lie. Apparently I'm not skilled with blades, at all. Cut myself because the damn thing slipped.

Pfffft. Yeah right.

But I didn't want to ruin her image of Jeff. She saw him to be a pretty good guy, which meant he wasn't such an asshole after all. Or he had a sense of mercy or compassion for little kids. Or maybe he just hated me. Either way, didn't want to ruin it for her.

Rising from my spot and gingerly patting Dahlia on the head, I sighed, "Go watch some more Ghost Adventures. I'm going to find Slendy and see if we can go get our old stuff."

Dahlia seemed puzzled. "Our old stuff?" she asked, looking up at me.

Alright... I'm confused now. What the hell? Did she not remember our home?

I pursed my lips, looking down at her with narrow red eyes. She didn't remember home and she's acting like she's five. The change caused a mental impairment somehow... Maybe it was the fact that bad memories were associated with the place, so she wanted to forget about it...

Psychology, I thought. That had to be it. The mind tunes out things the things they don't like, the bad memories. The ones that can scar a kid for life. Like seeing your parents, dead. Or witnessing your sister having her face cut open, then get knocked out. That's a good one, too.

The biggest one in all of the mess, is living with two murderers. One who rips people open, removes their guts, and replaces said organs wrapped in plastic bags, and the other being a lunatic who rushes people and cuts them open for the hell of it.

"Okay, " I took a deep breath. "Nevermind. I didn't say anything about another home... This is your home." I gestured around us, moving my arms to elaborate that this giant place was where she had been from childhood. Though, that was definitely a lie.

I was bullshitting my little sister.

I'm a horrible person, no doubt about it.

Laughing aloud, my voice dropped to naught but a whisper. "But it's nothing close to my home. This is a hellhole."

Then I turned to see Slenderman in the doorway. He seemed to eyelessly look at me in confusion, questioning what happened without even a ripple of static to voice it. He seemed to have cooled off from whatever fit he threw at Jeff. No matter what it may have been, it had to of been terrible. The faceless horror seemed fairly chill until then.

Unless I just saw him in the wrong light.

Oh well.

I mouthed my attacker's name to the tall man, keeping it away from innocent ears, and he seemed to ripple with anger.

"Now, now." A voice came from behind Slendy. One that was all too familiar and hair-raising. "No need to throw a fit in front of dear Dahlia or her sister. Wait... no. Go crazy towards Beautiful, here, but not the kid."

"Beautiful?" I snorted, trying to keep my cool. Even still,a blush spread over my snowy cheeks. He had to be kidding.

After tormenting nonstop from the moment I saw him, he goes and says that. Haunting eyes, in the back of my mind for that first while before the gruesome deaths unfolded on the ground floor of our house, and in my dreams - pardon me, nightmares.

That was just bullshit.

He's shitting me, now.

Speaking of the house, I remembered that my aunt and her husband would take the house if anything ever happened to the family. That meant I'd get to deal with them, showing my face.

But I was rumored as dead, no doubt. Disappearing like that, in a slew of blood - my own splattered through my room - screamed dead. Though our bodies weren't there. Not suspicious at all, no. I wondered what the cops thought when they arrived, if they ever did.

Sighing, I took a moment to think. Aunt Clara wouldn't dare sell any of our stuff. Not too soon, at least. She was close to my sister and me, even though I was a somewhat-recent addition to the family, she took to me kindly. Her husband, too, was a remarkable man. All too kind, judgement for the horrid Albinism never once crossing their lips.

Constantly, we were given senseless gifts and things. I always got something things ranging from clothes to new hard drives, and Dahlia received plushies and 'kawaii' clothes from the Tokyo shops in the mall. Sometimes we'd get trinkets from their travels, and other times large boxed things.

Gifts brought me back to my nightmare, of being skewered after receiving a gift from 'Mark Slender' and my little Dahlia. Cringing, I brought myself back to reality.

Static disrupted the air and a voice came through it. "Are you ready to fetch your old things? Jeff will be accompanying you to handle any trouble that may arise." the voice said. The speak of the psychotic killer just in the hall made Slenderman sound uneasy about the idea. Then he continued. "I, too will be going. Dahlia will stay behind with BEN."

I blinked. "Okay..."

Who was BEN?

Pulling Dahlia into a hug for a moment, I smiled down at her and told her I would be back as soon as I could be. Within the day. Then I proceeded to hushedly tell her of all the marvelous things I would bring back with me, and she smiled in delight at my words.

They were all things she'd previously owned at the house, of course, but she obviously didn't remember them.

Goddamn psychological shit. Tuning out the terrible things that happened. Though, I don't blame her. If I could, I would've done the same. But I guess I'm just too messed up to be capable of it, the reality is something I can somehow easily come to accept.

The gears, they aren't turning right anymore.

Shuffling past Slenderman into the hall, I was greeted by Jeff, who held a blade. His once psychotic look was somewhat apologetic for a moment, before snapping into the crude expression it held other times I'd seen him.

"You might need this." he said briefly, pushing the cold weapon he held into my hand, before looking away nonchalantly.

I looked down at it, then growled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Preparedness. You'd be surprised with what you encounter out there."

What the hell does that mean? We're going to my old home, not into some place filled with enemies.. right?

Well. Normal people would be prey, enemies, now. I'm turning into a God forsaken psycho, after all.

…

Slendy could teleport like in the games, and he dropped Jeff and myself in the woods nearest my old house. He instructed that he would come find us if we were gone too long, after handing me a sheet of paper with the manson's address scrawled on it. It was as if he knew my intentions to snag a form of transportation. After trekking through massive amounts of overgrowth, we reached the streets. A night jogger passed when we first emerged, and, out of his need for bloodshed, Jeff quickly did away with the man.

That aside, we quickly made our way to my old home. Night had long fallen hours back, so concealing ourselves wasn't really a problem. Well, other than the fact that I was as white as a piece of paper, with my damned white hair and white jacket, while Jeff was almost the same bright white as myself.

I took a deep breath as we strolled down the street, coming to a stop in front of the majestic house that I once called home. A wave of nausea hit and I hunched, shaking.

The lights were on, meaning that Clara and her husband were, indeed, there. She would no doubt hear my rustling and come up, and, if worse comes to worse, misfortune might come upon her. My lovely backup, Jeff, would come in and do some damage while I finished up and fled the house, to meet Slendy in the forest, hopefully followed by Jeff.

"Oh my God, what am I doing?" I asked, straightening up. Red eyes looked to the paneled window with closed dark curtains. It was my room, my window. Rod iron trellis aided climbing vines up the house's side, coming up and wrapping around the window frame of only my room.

Christina thought it was unsightly for her and Michael's balcony and windows, while Dahlia hadn't cared for it. I was the only one who really liked the idea, so Michael put up the intricately-designed trellis for the vines to wrap and grow.

The metal had never served a purpose other than visual pleasure, but now it served as my method of access to the house.

Jeff sighed. "You're breaking into your old house to repossess your old shit." he stated bluntly, twirling his bloodied blade in his fingers.

The bastard had been acting strangely for awhile by then, and it was getting on my nerves. I didn't understand his change of heart. Going from cutting me up and throwing me around, to giving a compliment of sorts.

"Really?" I asked sarcastically, trying to get my thoughts away from how wrong this was. I quietly made my way across the marshy front lawn and to the trellis I would be scaling, placing my hands on the black metal matted with vines and chilled by water.

Taking a deep breath, I started up, scaling it quickly as if I had done it before. My foot slipped once and I bit back the terrified scream that almost escaped my lips. Continuing up, my hands slid along the metal sides easily, even over the bumps of vines.

"You need help opening the window?" Jeff called up in a whisper-yell. I glanced down at him, he was standing at the base of the trellis, hands on the metal as if he were ready to ascend.

I gave a nod and he did the same in return, quickly making his way up. Of course he did this with more ease than I had, it was what he did regularly. Going to ridiculous extents to make his kill gave him that easiness. I rolled my eyes at the thought, awkwardly shuffling to one side of the trellis.

Much to my horror, doing so, along with our combined weight made the vines snap loose from the side of the house. I gave a quiet sound or alarm, and Jeff took hold of me with one arm and barely managed to steady the structure with the other.

My heart thumped erratically against my chest, eyes wide with horror at the thoughts of the outcome if Jeff hadn't gotten hold of the window's framing and pulled us back.

He worked quickly, releasing me, and managed to jam the window open soundlessly. "Get inside, " he commanded gruffly, pushing me past him. I barely caught myself as I was forced through the window. "Since this won't hold us a second time with all your shit, your family will either have to cooperate or die." he said direly.

I scowled. "You wouldn't dare." My voice was hardly above a whisper as Jeff pulled himself through the window and yanked the curtains shut.

"If they call the cops, we won't be able to get out with your things. If you're willing to leave your things behind and abandon this, then we'll make it. If not, some shit's going to happen."

Fuming, I silently went to my dresser and began rustling through it. I grabbed my old duffel bag from the closet and stuffed clothes into it, grabbing handfuls from my drawer of underthings and numerous shirts. Several pairs of skinny jeans made their way in, too, along with boots and shoes of sorts. I swept my arm over the vanity and pushed all of my makeup in, along with toiletries and hair things that I kept in there.

Jeff kept to one shadowed corner of the room, arms folded. He was just observing after not receiving a response out of me from the cop remark.

The splatter of blood was still there, and my box of things lay on the floor, discarded after my current partner knocked me out many days back. Suddenly, I asked, "How long has it been?"

"Two weeks." was the response I got after a moment's hesitation. I frowned.

The floor creaked in the hall and I looked to Jeff for some guidance. He held up his hands defensively, unblinking eyes never once leaving mine, letting me know this was my business for the time being. I handled it the way I would until shit hit the fan twofold, then he would step in and deal his way.

Taking a breath, I crept into the darkness, slipping through the door. Thankfully, my small frame allowed for quiet and easy maneuvering through the place. From where I was, I saw Clara's silhouette. Her back was to me, I could tell, her dark brown hair apparently swept over one shoulder. The white nightshirt she wore was disgruntled, obviously. It was about two in the morning, so it made sense to why.

I rushed forward, quickly pulling her back to me as Jeff had done to me when he slaughtered my face. The blade was pressed to her throat in an instant and I uttered, "Don't say a word, Clara. Don't scream, don't panic. Just cooperate."

I couldn't believe I was doing what I was, but I felt so at ease doing so now that I had started. I felt Jeff's presence move to the doorway, leaning in its frame to see how I would go about things.

"Wh-who are you?" Clara asked, obviously panic-stricken. She didn't dare move, nor look over her shoulder. I prayed she wouldn't look at what I had become.

"Xandra." I said quietly. I felt her tense.

"I thought... you were dead?" she whispered frantically, turning in my grasp. I suddenly lowered the blade. I didn't wish to do any harm to her unless I had to.

I sighed. "You're not wrong." She opened her mouth to speak, but I resumed. "Who I was before is long gone, I'm... going mad. If this isn't evident enough." I gestured to my face, the unevenly stitched wound throbbing in time to my heart.

She gasped. "You did that to yourself... Why?" she asked quietly, a hand coming up to my face and run gingerly over the wound.

I could almost feel Jeff's gaze boring into my back in disapproval. Honestly, I didn't want her to know I was accompanied and mutilated by a killer, let alone living with a few. It was overwhelmingly strange once I stopped to think about it.

"Yes, I did... But please... You can't call the authorities or notify anyone of my being alive. It's crucial."

"But... but I could get you help. You could go to a psych ward, you could get therapy and have your face fixed!" the woman in front of me whispered hopefully. She wanted me to come back and be normal, resume life. I couldn't possibly do that, not after what's happened.

"I don't want help, I want to pass through my madness on my own. I'll even take my life if necessary. So please, just... do as I ask, Clara." I lied. I wouldn't kill myself, it actually seemed interesting to discover what would come of me in these conditions.

"Alright..." she murmured. "Why are you here?" Her blue eyes were filled with hurt, confusion, and a whirlwind of other emotions.

"To get some things. I have Dahlia, and I want to restore at least a bit of our old life." I said hushedly, my hands gently holding her forearms. I was pretty good at feigning honesty and concern, purity. God damn, how sick it made me to do this. Not just because of how stupid and cliche I probably sounded, but because of these lies I was giving her. It was like spoon feeding a baby and playing the airplane trick.

No, damn it, food isn't an airplane. Airplanes are airplanes. Food goes in your mouth. Not motherfucking spoon-airplanes.

I gave a smiled as she nodded. "Do you want any help?"

"I think I'm fine. I'm just going to sift through and pick up her favorite things... Also, where are mom's car keys?"

She blinked at me. "You don't have your license."

My mouth formed a bitter line. It took a lot not to fire off things that I would soon after regret. Still, I held my tongue. "I can still drive, though." I said, biting back the scornful tone that threatened to come through.

"Go find your things, " she sighed in deafeat, tired eyes looking over her shoulder. "Get what you want, but keep quiet. Joshua is asleep." Turning, she left me in the hall. Her form disappeared down the long hall and staircase.

Turning, I came to face Jeff. "If she calls the cops, you take the damn keys from her and bail. I'll find my way back." I nodded slowly, before pushing past him. I got back to my room and packed what I could, disconnecting my desktop and numerous computer screens that littered the shelves and top of my desk. I snatched Christina's old laptop from the shelf and placed it with them.

I slipped into Dahlia's room and packed what I recalled were her favorites. All the clothes, hand-me-downs and and not, and her stuffed toys. I packed her iPad and some shoes, before returning to the hall, where Jeff had moved my desktop, screens, and laptop to.

Clara emerged with the keys in her hands. "The tank's still over half full." she said, seeming a bit off. I took a look at Jeff over my shoulder. He was still in the darker of the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on my aunt.

"Thank you, " I said quietly. "Now, go to sleep." Then I caught myself as I took the keys from her. I sounded like Jeff just then.

His laugh erupted from behind me.

"Damn it!"

Jeff commanded for me to go, and I reluctantly did.

Clara looked alarmed and she moved for her bedroom. I could hear her phone dialing three numbers.

I snatched up the duffel bags I packed, along with my laptop and a keyring of flash drives, along with a hard drive and made my way down the hall. Rushedly, I kicked the door to the garage open and slipped through, pressing the garage door opener with my elbow as I made my way through.

"This is complete bullshit!" I spat, opening the trunk of sleek midnight-blue 2010 Camaro. Cramming the things inside and slamming it shut, I yelled for Jeff through the open door. Police sirens were in the distance, now.

"Go on!" I heard him yell in response.

Stubborn son of a bitch, he can get away with me and he knows it.

"Come on, damn it!"

After no reply, I hissed and ran inside. I quickly went up the stairs, slamming open the door to the master bedroom. "Son of a bitch, come on, Jeff!" I growled.

He had Clara's husband by his throat backed to the wall. He yanked the blade from his stomach and growled under his breath as he stormed to me and took my arm, hustling me down the stairs and through the house.

Clara stepped into my way, a phone-in hand. I cringed and Jeff urged me forward, his hand taking mine and pushing into the pocket of my hoodie. I felt the knife's handle in it and looked over my shoulder at him.

"We're going to get caught if you don't move." he hissed in my ear, hunching over me, knife at-hand.

I cringed and pushed away, bounding into the garage. Making a face, I slid into the Camaro, ignoring Clara's dying screech. Jamming the keys into the ignition, I started it. The interior was normal, except for the fact that it was a stick shift, not an automatic. Christina always preferred them.

Jeff darted through the door, circling round the back of the car to hurriedly rip the only license plate off and discard it, before hopping into the passenger's side.

Pressing the clutch, I skipped gears and swerved out of the dimly lit garage, lights off, into the night, rapidly shifting gears and increasing speed by the moment.

"Why the hell didn't you kill her, yourself?" Jeff spat, glaring at me. My eyes were on the dark road. I heard the sirens behind, coming to the house and sighed. Once I was out of range, I flicked on the lights so I could see where I was going.

"I dunno, maybe because it's my aunt. I mean, fuck. I can't kill them that easily. Anyone who could do such a thing so easily is sick." I said.

I caught myself after that, slowing to a stop in the middle of the road. I turned to Jeff and frowned, looking at him. "Shit... I'm sorry."

So, reviews are appreciated :3 Tell me how I'm doing so far, hopefully it isn't too bad. Until next chapter, guys~