Monster House

by Cosmic_Cherubim

Summary:

Jeffrey Woods, after trying for years to live a normal life after the killing of three boys and a repeated arson offense, is suddenly sucked back into the life of a killer when he’s picked up by a group of people living in the woods.

Chapter 1: Interlude

---

What day was it? Thursday. Right. He’d forgotten.

 

Jeffrey Woods has never been so tired. Days were long and ceaseless, always blending together. He needed a watch. Always waking up to the blinding light of the sun pouring through his windows. No matter how much he tried to cover his sensitive eyes, it served as a reminder of his situation. He was alone. Cripplingly alone. Stumbling through an online education, something he could barely afford, and learning how to live without his parents aid. Which was his own fault, but he’s learned to be lighter on himself about that. He was a kid. A kicked puppy. The world did give him a slight reprieve from it all at first too, when he was first let go from the psychiatric ward. It didn’t last long.

 

He even has a therapist now that he doesn’t even have to pay for. What joy.

 

She didn’t want to be around him. Jeff could tell. Every session they had together her fear was always present. The way she looked at him, seating herself further and further away, and the way she didn’t even bother to hide the close-by pepper spray. How, when Jeff had his first appointment at 14 years of age, she pointed out where every single camera was in her home. As if to tell him that if he tried anything, he’d be sent far far away. A confused little boy being told in so many ways that he was a threat.

 

It was so unnecessary. So hurtful. It wasn’t like he was a feral animal about to bite, yes he’d done bad things, but he now knew what was bad about that. Jeff had morals. He knew why you can’t just go around killing kids, even if they did deserve it.

 

They were the reason behind his appearance. The reason behind why he had the entire freak-out in the first place. He could barely remember anything from his younger teenage years, and those three idiots were more than likely the reasons why. He could list off far too many things that those kids did to him and how it culminated into who he is today. Jeff took a psychology class, for fun, and bullying fucks you up. Yet he was expected to feel sympathy for those bastards and their parents, who did nothing? Who only ignored his issues until it was far too late? He had to be sympathetic?

 

Yeah, right.

 

Regardless, he’s required to bring up negative thoughts of any kind to his therapist. For documentation purposes. So he does.

 

“I don’t feel any sympathy for them, they were assholes.”

 

His therapist, Dr. Clay looks up at him as he speaks. She was probably the most generic human the world could come up with, not like Jeff could say much considering how he once looked. Brown hair tied into a tight bun, brown eyes, fair-skinned, and glasses with bifocals. She even had those stupid little chains on her glasses, and a clipboard. The classic therapist. He watched as she scratched out a note briefly, before she’d respond to him. Probably something she’d send to his attorney, he knew she was documenting his ‘progress’ and whether or not he was going down the rails again.

 

“Jeffrey.“ He hated how she used his full name. It felt like she was patronizing him. “You know one of the last steps of your healing is to forgive and forget. Once you do that, you’ll be free.”

 

“Free from what?”

 

“The pain.”

 

“The pain of being burned alive?” Jeff wasn’t the type to be sarcastic or snippy, but he couldn’t find it in him to care at the moment. He’s tired and he’s pissed about his situation. He always had been and always would be. Especially considering that Dr. Clay knew what those bullies did to him was wrong.

 

She just didn’t want to admit it. Nobody did. Nobody wanted to tell the murderer he was right.

 

She looked away from him again. She could never look at him long, he was horrifying and ugly to her. A monster. No matter how hard he tried to cover himself up with clothes and gloves and face masks. Not like it mattered, this session was close to ending anyway. She wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer. She’d be dead by the morning.

 

Yeah, he knew morals. Didn’t mean he had to have good ones.

 

Jeff knows he’s a good person. As much as he liked living a normal life, it was just.. Boring. He could barely even live anyway. Jobs were hard to get when you look horrific. Probably something to do with customer service. Either way people would talk shit about him anyway. Either behind his back or right to his face, they didn’t care. They sure didn’t have sympathy when he was a mentally spiraling child. It either got worse or got better as he grew up. Besides, Dr. Clay was getting on his nerves. It wasn’t the greatest explanation for murder, but he couldn’t really just say that he wanted to kill someone. That’d be going against his morals.

 

Maybe this is what she meant by being free. Free of inhibitions, free of any tie to the earthly realm. If he messes up, he would die for it. Maybe that’d be good. Maybe that’d be his path to freedom.

 

Probably not. Jeff didn’t want to die at the ripe age of 22.

 

His dinner felt heavy in his mouth that night, the last vestiges of some off-brand cereal, tasting distinctly like cardboard. Maybe he was falling ill. Maybe it was what was to come, but he couldn’t back down now. He knew what he had to do, but his mind still seemed against it. It was the fear seeping in, the fear of getting caught. Or adrenaline. His twitching leg is a sign of both those feelings.

 

There would be no second chance. No chance of redemption. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and he was far more cognizant and aware of what he was doing. That’s premeditated murder. A far worse charge would befall him. Worse than a psych ward and a demeaning therapist.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t eat? He’d throw up. Maybe. He can’t be getting stage fright anyway. He needs to start getting things in order. Like supplies. He’d need to stop by the store and rifle through what he wanted to keep from this shitty stage of life. He also needed to get on to scheduling an impromptu appointment for Sunday. Which would be easy, she never had any appointments on Sunday. It was the day of rest, and Dr. Clay was religious. Either Catholic or Christian, since she had a cross hanging in every room. Maybe it was to keep his violence at bay. Jeff wouldn’t have been surprised if Dr. Clay started spraying him with holy water.

 

Regardless, she’d have to accept him. She was bound by law. 

 

He needed a weapon, which was already accounted for. Jeff had a knife on him at all times, a measure of self-defense if any old woman tried hitting him again while he was working retail proclaiming he was the devil. A little unoriginal, but it worked. It was small, and needed sharpening. Yet he had a few days to flesh out these smaller details. It was a golden opportunity offering itself to him on the finest platter he’d ever seen.

 

He could be happy this way.

 

*

 

Sunday came around, finally, but Jeff still didn’t feel ready. He couldn’t decide on what to even do with Dr. Clay to kill her in the first place. The indecision likely came from his anxieties, some more level-headed part of him trying to get him to stop. Jeff was originally planning on drugging her water, or coffee, whichever she planned on having. Make it look like an accidental overdose or something. Yet he decided against it, he wanted to keep his painkillers. Even after he’d finally healed, the burning pain would still come back in horrible waves. 

 

Maybe he would just use the knife.

 

He can’t keep getting worked up over nothing. This was an opportunity he had been waiting for forever, it had become an inevitability at this point. He had called Dr. Clay about an hour before now, saying that it was urgent and he finally understood what she meant about freedom. He played it up, like he had an epiphany or something. 

 

Jeff had never been good at acting, he just hoped it’d work. 

 

Before he left he made sure everything was in place, that everything he needed was right where it needed to be. Making sure that whatever essentials he had were right on the inside of his front door. Grab and go. His backpack was filled with items he needed, including his hormones, along with a thermos. He made sure his alibi was sound, and he planned to delete the call from Dr. Clay’s phone once the deed was finished. It wasn’t the best of plans, but it would work. That’s what mattered in the end.

 

He didn’t exactly know where he was going to go after he killed her, but he knew that he was going to utilize the forest he practically lived in. He didn’t know where it led. He had explored it a few days before, and made note of a couple of lakes or ponds.

 

Perfect for washing off the smell of blood, and whatever else that could incriminate him.

 

The plan was set, and it was almost perfect. Of course there would be things he’d miss in the heat of the moment, things he’d forget. Jeff was relying on the fact that whatever instinct took over all those years ago, will take up the reins again. Maybe he won’t have to lift a finger, and he’ll forget it even happened.

 

His appointment was in ten minutes.

 

He’s ready.

 

*

 

He jumped the gun.

 

His hands are soaked in a sickening crimson, he plunged the knife too deep, and there was a struggle. Well, it’s unavoidable. He couldn’t try and fake a suicide from this, even though he’d thought of it. Maybe he should’ve done that? It would’ve bought him more time. There isn’t any time to second-guess himself now, though.

 

He cleans off his hands, taking off his bloodstained hoodie. The blood had seeped through the thin fabric, but his shirt was red. If anybody asked he could just say it was the shirt, it fit the band's aesthetic anyway. 

 

It’d be fine. It’d all be fine.

 

He deleted the phone call from Dr.Clay’s phone, using her thumbprints. He hesitated for a moment, and ensured he grabbed onto her sleeve. He couldn’t risk anything, not even fingerprints on the skin. If that was even used as evidence in this day and age. He should’ve been more up to date on that. Should he have washed her hands? Did she scratch him hard enough to gather recognizable DNA under her nails? He doesn’t know. If he stays any longer in this house, he’s going to implode. Maybe all the crosses on the walls had a purpose. Maybe he was a demon.

 

The jog home was easy, and simple. He just had to act natural. Act calm. Not many people were around, like anybody would spare a glance in his direction anyway, but he had to be careful regardless. Any mistake and things would be tarnished, he’d be on the run for the rest of his life.

Oh wait, he basically already was. It didn’t matter. Jeff just wanted as much time as possible where he could be free. He did feel lighter after killing Dr. Clay, but maybe that’s just the adrenaline. He grabs his backpack quickly, slinging it over his shoulder. The thermos goes in his left hand, as practiced, and he’s out the back door of his house within seconds. The set-up worked perfectly, and he’d be on his way to his new life in no time at all.

 

The forest was calm and deliciously dark, and Jeff didn’t feel the need to run anymore. He would be at the creek soon, which meant he was going north. He had charted out the entire path, and to act as an alibi he had been going on regular walks through the forest for weeks beforehand. If anybody saw him, if anybody asked why Jeff was in the woods.. It would act as a way to deter the cops further. It was all going to be fine. He didn’t know what was waiting for him, but something was. Hopefully a place that wouldn’t try to force sympathy when he struggled so intensely with it.

 

Maybe he could go to Canada. He does like colder weather. He’d have to see how cold it gets in Canada. He didn’t have a passport, though. It slipped his mind when he was off recovering.

 

He checks the ground, and he should’ve been at the creekside by now, but.. He isn’t. Jeff looks to the sky, searching for the sun, and he is going in the right direction. He doesn’t understand how he missed the creek, he couldn’t have just walked over it. A creek makes noise. It’s flowing water. Jeff simply must’ve.. Not made it yet. He’s walking at a slower pace, he has to be. So he speeds up. The creek was a marker, it was where he was supposed to rest. Then after he took a break, he would clean off the scent of blood and muck, and go right. The creek was the most important thing in his stupid mental map, and he can’t just start going in a different direction now.

 

He had to reach the creek.

 

But something was following him. Someone, actually. He heard them a while back, they had stepped on a branch and the snap alerted him to their presence. Although Jeff didn’t want to turn around otherwise they would know he had heard them. He didn’t know what would happen, but he can easily assume that it wouldn’t be good. He had gotten so far, but maybe they were just walking in the woods as well? They were free reign to everyone. Jeff kept walking, watching the sun as he slowly realized he wasn’t going to make it to the creek anytime soon. He had gotten entirely turned around, he must have. He isn’t lost, he’d planned out this path so many times. He walked it, rehearsed it to the point that it was ingrained in his memory. He didn’t know what could’ve happened.

 

He checked the sun again, but it wasn’t there anymore. He stopped dead in his tracks. The trees had become so tall, and he was shrouded entirely in darkness. The leaves formed a ceiling, it was either midday or night now. He had been following the sun so he could get out of here, but his entire mental map had been ruined.

 

He didn’t pack a flashlight.

 

He makes the mistake of turning around, his adrenaline had started kicking in. He makes eye contact with them, or at least he thinks he does. Their face was covered by a mask. They were wearing a gray-green hoodie, blending in with the foliage around them. They looked like a predator caught stalking prey, a tense moment of silence passed before they started sprinting at Jeff. He breaks into a run in the opposite direction in a panicked scramble. He’s practically tripping over his feet at first until he finally gets his footing, yet something tells him his pursuer wouldn’t be stopping.

 

He sure as hell isn’t going to get to the creek now, his entire plan was just to get out of this place. If he doesn’t make it, he dies, but there’s also the chance that if he does get out he’ll die either way. They were small, and fast. No matter what Jeff did, he’d turn around and see them still in constant pursuit.

 

This constant looking back bit him in the ass, as he trips over a tree root jutting from the ground. He falls over himself, unable to throw his hands out to prevent him from falling further.

 

He hits his head hard against something, and he can’t bring himself to get up. His head is throbbing, could he be concussed from this? He doesn’t know, everything felt like a blur.

 

Footsteps approach him, and his pursuer looks down at him. Jeff blinks slowly, barely registering they were even there.

 

The last thing he remembers is the way they lifted up their leg, and kicked him in the face. He blacked out, as the distinct rumble of static filled his ears.

Notes:

Oh god creepypasta fic real……
Expect shenanigans and minimal plot!!

Also, there’s personal interpretations of specific pastas in here, just be aware!!

And irregular posting schedule (motivation hard)

Chapter 2: Designated Medic

Eventually Jeff woke up again, and he almost had a heart attack thinking he’d gotten into Heaven somehow despite not being the best person in the world anymore. No longer a golden child. Although Heaven probably didn’t sound like buzzing hospital lights. It would sound like trumpets, or maybe a nicer instrument. A lyre would be better. Jeff liked those. It sure as hell didn’t smell like chemicals either. The distinct smell of chlorine or bleach or something hitting Jeff’s nose.

He stares at the ceiling for the longest time, processing the fact that he’s alive. He can hear his heartbeat, practically thrumming in his ear, and dead hearts don’t beat.

“Ah. You’re up. Great.” 

Someone was in here with him, Jeff turning to the voice. How could he ignore it, when it demanded so much of him? Low and rumbling, but it belonged to a tall scrawny man.

..A very very very tall scrawny man. It became immediately clear this man was massive compared to Jeff, despite him sitting down. He was wearing a mask with bleeding eye-holes. An inky substance dripping from them onto Jeff’s sheets. Jeff moves away, as much as he could anyway. A searing pain barreling its way into his brain as this movement was far too fast for his body, apparently. Jeff winces, and the masked man reaches for him. He doesn’t touch him, but Jeff stops irregardless.

“Calm down. Pretty sure you’re concussed,” he says. His voice reverberates underneath the mask, and is not comforting in any way despite his obvious attempts. Even with his obscured face, the man was oddly easy to read. He was tense, his shoulders bunched up to try and make him seem far smaller than he was. A fruitless attempt, he still towered over Jeff.

Jeff looks around the room as the man pulls his arm back towards him. It was in.. Less than perfect condition, to put it lightly. The lights above, hospital lights, were haphazardly put together. Like they were detached from an actual hospital and swiftly hooked up to whatever power grid this place ran on. Old wire-frame beds lined the walls leading to the exit, each with their own mattress littered with stains. Jeff didn’t want to think about what those stains could be from. There were cabinets up on the walls, filled with bottles and medical equipment, a small desk tucked off to the side, and a fridge clearly labeled with a post-it note saying DO NOT OPEN. Which wasn’t concerning at all.

The room exuded the energy of a prison cell. The air felt suffocating and gross, despite all the open windows. If Jeff looked outside, all he could see was trees. Trees upon trees upon trees.

He was still in the forest. He hadn’t made it out. How did he not make it out? Did that person just.. Carry him to a random house in the woods? That’s comforting.

“So. How are you feeling?” The masked man asks, his face always seeming to be just on Jeff’s periphery. Like he couldn’t escape his gaze. Like he couldn’t escape at all. His voice seemed to have sympathy, softening.

“..Fine. Dizzy, but fine.”

“Kate didn’t break your nose, luckily enough.”

Jeff narrowed his eyes to the best of his ability, Kate must’ve been the person who was chasing him. Did they live here too? God, Jeff did not want to encounter them again.

“Do you think you could walk?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Walking. Can you do it?” A woman’s voice chimes in this time, harsher. How did Jeff not notice her? A tall nurse, assumed by her outfit, standing by the exit. Or what Jeff could guess to be the exit. He hated having to resort to so much assumption and guesswork.

“..Maybe?”

“Not a good answer. Why did she bring him to us, again, Jack?”

“You know I don’t ask those questions,” the masked man, Jack, responds. Barely even looking at the nurse other than a slight tilt of his head.

The nurse scoffs, walking away from the door she stood beside to the cabinets filled with eclectic medications. All different shapes and colors and labels, and ages if some of the old boxes were anything to go by. Jeff thinks she’s organizing them further, but maybe she was looking for a certain kind?

How she figures out which medication goes where, Jeff has no clue.

Jack turns back to look at Jeff head on, likely about to say something. Holding what Jeff would assume to be eye-contact, but there was nothing behind the eye holes of the mask. If his eyes weren't deceiving him, and there really was nothing behind the holes of the mask, it must’ve meant that there were very few boundaries between the eyes and Jeff. The eyes were a sensitive spot. Squishy and delicate.

Jack was close enough.

He acted quickly, and very simply just stuck his fingers into the sockets of the mask. Going down as far as he could, which.. Surprisingly worked. Jeff didn’t want to think about how deep his fingers went inside the mask’s eyeholes. Nearly to the knuckle.

“AH- FUCK!” Jack swears, clutching at his mask as if it was a second skin, and Jeff immediately makes a break for it. Forcing himself to stand and run towards the door of this terrifying hospital room, the nurse nearby let out a startled shout. He was like a newborn deer walking for the first time, stumbling and Jeff very nearly ran into a wall, but nonetheless Jeff got out of that room.

He didn’t pay attention to where he was going exactly, the hall outside of the medical room was claustrophobic and overwhelmingly long. The hallway he was in was simply decorated with doors upon doors, with no end to them in sight.

Jeff simply chose a direction and started to run, regaining his footing and awareness quickly. The walls seemed to stretch far above him, he couldn’t see the ceiling at times. Yet he couldn’t focus on that, as a set of stairs going down came to him quickly. Jeff sprinted down the steps as they opened into a grand foyer, an odd placement that simply added to the abnormality of the building he was in. There were people scattered everywhere, many in masks and in varying states of decay somehow.

He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to look back. Instead heading straight for the door.

Notes:

Don’t mind the fact it’s been months.. my wish fulfillment fic isn’t unmotivating I’ve just been in creative stasis 3

Chapter 3: Mankind’s Worst

Jeff had been running for hours now, he had to be. Yet every time he looked up at the sky, it never changed from the blistering afternoon sun. The trees never thinned, and there was never any change in the environment around him. If he looked behind himself, he was sure that the house would still be there. Looming high and threatening. It felt like he was in one of those sick dreams where he couldn’t run. Jeff had to keep going, it didn’t fully matter whether or not he could get out of the woods, he just wanted to be away from that house.

He didn’t know why every part of him had screamed at him to get out, that he was somewhere he didn’t really belong. The masked man had tried his best to be reassuring, Jeff could tell that much from the way he had made sure Jeff didn’t die out in the woods. How he was brought back into a modicum of safety, rather than being left to die.

Jeff didn’t even have his backpack. It was somewhere in that godforsaken house, but he couldn’t go back now. He was also definitely lost. Even if this forest never seemed to change, he knew he wouldn’t find his way back. Not on his own, anyway. He sighs, loud and defeated. Leaning against a tree and sliding down it until he was sitting on the ground, not caring if bark was getting in his hair at this point.

 

What does he do?

 

This forest was like a death-trap. He’d die here, that’s what he’d do. Lay here until he would die from hunger or thirst or something. Food for the worms. They’d sure love that.

Then whoever else was in that house couldn’t find him. He’d die alone, but refusing to be in a place that screamed danger was the way you had to go sometimes. He really didn’t expect to become so fatalistic so quickly. His therapist really did nothing for him.

..Although Jeff is alerted to something. A rustle. A sound. 

You had to be kidding. Jeff had been out here for hours at this point, even if the sun never changed from its high point in the sky, and there had been no noises. Not even birds, no chirps, no crickets and no nothing. Time definitely still passed. This was likely the only sound to be heard for miles, and Jeff was drawn to it like a sailor to a siren.

He was thinking of it like a saving grace, honestly. It didn’t matter what it was.

Jeff got to his feet again, brushing off the scraps of bark that had landed onto his sweatpants. Looking around. Nothing in the immediate vicinity. Then, another noise. Further away. Not a noise, no. It was far too steady, far too repetitive and holding a rhythm.

It was a voice.

He starts walking toward it before he can even think. He remembers the person he met out here- however long ago it was- Kate. Was that them? Maybe they’d help him this time. Hopefully with less of them kicking him in the head.

As he gets closer, the voice becomes clearer. He had no sense in his head, just a drive to get out of this goddamn forest and get home. Or at the very least somewhere far away from here. Considering he couldn’t go home. It doesn’t matter if it’s Kate- well it definitely isn’t, it’s a more masculine voice- he just wants out. He can’t fully tell where the man’s voice is coming from, but he can just almost-

 

“Aaawwwwh. Come on. That’s no fun. Christ, where’s the spindly bitch when you need him?” His voice was hoarse and raspy, like it was overused from shouting. Jeff pushed closer, pulling away a few stray branches and getting hit with the harsh, tangy smell of blood. 

 

Holy shit.

 

A man was hovering over a horribly mangled corpse. Pulling at the body’s arms- which were barely still attached at the shoulder- trying to drag it along. The person was long dead, Jeff cringing as the tendons connecting the arms to their shoulders snapped and the person's arms were freed. Their innards and guts had spilled out, ribs cracked open and lungs both popped. The shells of the organ sticking to the inside of the carcass. The heart was missing.

Yet if the blood around the man’s mouth was saying anything, he’d probably eaten it.

Jeff’s eyes were so focused on the body, he hadn’t even realized.

“Hiya.”

Jeff shouts in alarm, turning around only to see the shorter man standing there behind him rather than in front of Jeff like he’d thought. Blood soaking him up to his elbows, a deep rich red. His shirts soaked in the blood as well, making the black color even darker. His face was partially obscured by the hat he wore. Grinning with unashamed glee.

“Yoooohooooo? You there, ya smiley fuck?” The smell of blood wafts into Jeff’s nose, god it burns his unblinking eyes, as the man waves his hand in front of his face. Jeff feels himself growing progressively more uncomfortable, borderline self-conscious, by the way the man points out the scarring around Jeff’s mouth. It had never fully healed right. Where was his medical mask?

“I- yeah. Yeah. Hey.”

Jeff feels like he’s going to throw up.

The man’s grin stretches further, an eerie sight as it almost stretches the skin around his mouth, and he holds his arms out as if expecting a hug. Jeff makes no move to touch him, standing completely still like a rabbit that’s just been alerted to a predator. At his hesitance, the man drops his arms back down to his sides.

“..Damn. You’re boring. Expected finally someone fun with whatever’s going on in that sick lil’ head a’ yours,” The man chuckles, tapping on his own forehead. Getting a little more blood on his hat. His posture is entirely confident and almost cocky. Despite his smaller stature and seemingly weaker frame, he’s clearly confident in.. Something. It was unsettling to see, especially with the display the man was hovering over earlier.

The man pauses, his grin fading to nothing but a scowl under the hat.

“Ah. Right. Stick-In-The-Mud-Jr is looking for you,” He groans, taking off his hat and running a bloodied hand through his hair. His eyes were sunken in, as if deprived of sleep.

He holds out that same bloody hand to Jeff. Pointedly looking at it, as if urging Jeff to take it. Regrettably, he does. Jeff didn’t want to think about what consequences there could’ve been if he didn’t take the man's hand. Jeff didn’t want to be splayed out and gored on the forest floor. That was no way to die.

 

*

 

Jeff blinked, and he was in an office. Or a study. There was some sort of difference between the two, but Jeff never bothered to figure out what it was. The man was still there in front of him, albeit briefly. Moving to sit atop the desk in front of Jeff, beside three other men. Well. One of them looked to be a teenager. Two of them wore masks, one feminine and white while the other was black and handmade, the younger boy wore a muzzle. He picked at the metal, hand twitching occasionally. At times his neck would jerk to the side, and he’d whistle.

He was the only one who wasn’t staying still. Sitting on a couch in the room. Goggles atop his head rather than a full mask like the rest of them.

“You stuck your fingers in Jack’s eyes,” The feminine masked man spoke up, his voice low and gruff. A lit cigarette sits between his pointer and his middle fingers, nearly burning into the desk he was leaning against. Jeff watches as he lifts up his mask, showcasing fair skin and a cut passing over his mouth, taking a long drag from the cigarette. Exhaling the smoke.

“..Well. How did you want me to react to being kidnapped?”

“With gratitude.”

The masked man’s voice was surprisingly firm and serious, flicking ash from the cigarette to the floor.

“Christ- can I just have some answers?” Jeff approaches the man leaning against the desk, and notices how he immediately tenses. Squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. Jeff backs away, as he probably shouldn’t be testing a man he knows nothing about.

Jeff sits down on the couch instead. Trying not to sit too close to the teenage boy, who looks at him, and lights up.

“Ooooh h-hey! Boss didn’t tell me we’d be gettin’ a celebrity! Hiiiya, Jeffrey! Big fan- aha!- Name’s Toby.” The boy, Toby, reaches over to Jeff for a handshake. Grinning underneath that muzzle of his.

Jeff shakes his hand, a little uncomfortable by his supposed ‘celebrity’ status, whatever that meant, and Toby sits back down. Clearly a little more giddy than earlier. The masked man groans, running a hand through his hair. Looking at the hooded man beside him, before walking a little closer to him. The two whispered to one another, assumedly, but Jeff couldn’t make out any words and just heard vague sounds. The masked man walks back to the center, motioning to each person as he says their name.

“The HABIT,” The man in the hat, who nods to Jeff.

“Masky,” He points to himself, a cigarette still sitting in his mouth.

“Hoodie,” The man in the orange hood, who just stares. Unsettling.

Habit eventually pipes up, cackling as he does. Tilting his hat back. Giving Jeff a wide grin, the blood still on his teeth almost like a badge of honor.

“We’re mankind’s worst nightmare.”

Notes:

Hi, hello, it’s me again <3

Happy new year :]

Gonna try to post monthly!! One chapter a month :]
I’m still getting used to things on here, one thing being how short the chapters feel. Hopefully w/time I’ll be writing more but who knows!

Chapter 4: Fresh

“Murderers, demons, demonic clowns.. Whatever else is in this stupid house. We’re what goes bump in the night, the killers who go on bloody rampages and such.” Habit’s voice takes on a taunting tone, his words distorting and becoming more gruff and inhuman. He’s smiling throughout it, leaning forward and closer to Jeff. Almost baring his bloodied teeth like a feral animal, hungry for flesh. Clearly taking some form of twisted pleasure from taunting Jeff, as he cackles upon seeing Jeff’s face morph more towards fear. Biting at him.

 

“Quit it, Habit.” Masky's voice was sharp, borderline reprimanding, and Habit groans in response. But he does lean away from Jeff. Hopping off of the desk and wandering off to some place in the study, Jeff keeps an eye on him subconsciously. Watching as Habit begins to swap books around on the shelves in the room, presumably putting them out of order for some reason.

 

Masky sighs, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and snubbing it out on the desk. Jeff was expecting a burn spot to be left behind, but there wasn’t a trace of any sort of burn. He pulls the mask down to fully cover his face again, lightly exaggerating his neck movement so Jeff would know he’d turned to look at him. Which was surprisingly considerate it appears, as Jeff got the impression that Masky wasn’t exactly the friendliest guy on the planet. He’s getting that impression from everyone in this room, actually. Even the teenager. Regardless, the movement tears Jeff’s attention away from Habit.

 

“This is a safe haven. Boss has heard your name and has kept an eye on you. He decided after your recent escapade to cordially invite you to reside in the House.”

 

He didn’t sound very happy to be sharing this news.

 

“..Okay. Who’s your boss?” Jeff was a little concerned to say the least. Did he just have a stalker? For essentially half of his life? And now he had to live here. With that same stalker and a bunch of people who worked for them. Assuming from the fact Masky and Toby had referred to this individual as boss. Lots of weird things have been happening and it’s hard for Jeff to wrap his head around. It didn’t help how both Masky and Hoodie, who still hadn’t said a word since Jeff had appeared in, seemed to only become tenser than they already were with his questioning. What was wrong with these people?

 

“He’ll talk to you soon enough.”

 

“Oh! Oh! Masky- Masky Masky Masky- Can I show him around??” Toby raises his hand, practically vibrating in his seat, buzzing with energy, like an excited child. To be fair he was still a kid, at least Jeff assumed he was. Roughly estimating that Toby was maybe seventeen or eighteen years old with that round face. Almost out of highschool, but he was here. And likely for good reason, by Habit’s overly dramatic description of who resided here. Although perhaps there was some truth to it. Maybe this was some weird prison. Or it was Purgatory, and Jeff had died already.

 

Masky sighs heavily, clearly annoyed by the mere presence of the kid.

 

“Sure. Get out,” he mutters. Shooing Toby away with an almost bored wave of his hand. Already reaching into the pocket of his jacket for another cigarette. Toby practically beams with unbridled joy, grabbing onto Jeff’s wrist and pulling him off of the couch and out of the office. Jeff could barely even get a word in. No more questions, as Toby throws open the office doors and lets them slam behind them once they’re out. Jeff being able to hear the distinct click of a lock as he’s pulled away from people he could get a modicum of answers from.

Guess they don’t want them to come back.

Toby starts talking a mile a minute, showing Jeff around the building. Beginning to point out places of interest. The house though, he noticed, was far bigger on the inside. And at the very least he could appreciate the building a little more when he wasn’t trying to escape or run away, high on adrenaline and fumes. It was a nice house, Jeff supposed, but it’d seen better days. Large and old, maybe vintage was a better word, only reminding Jeff of all of the older Victorian houses in his old neighborhood. Which only seemed to draw attention since they were surrounded by modern suburban homes. The house had this rich, dark wood lining the walls. A few chandeliers in the bigger rooms that had high enough ceilings. A grand centermost staircase, which Jeff remembered running down earlier in the day. Honestly, the place seemed to be in relatively decent shape. Just needing some repairs or cleaning.

 

“Oh my g-g-god! Clockwork! Hi!”

 

Jeff is pulled out of his architecture appreciation as Toby gets sidetracked. Pulling away from Jeff and skipping over to a much taller girl. Clockwork, assumedly. The name was a curious one, but once Jeff caught sight of the literal timepiece in her eye, he figured it made enough sense. He’s just figuring it was a nickname and if he wasn’t he’d have to apologize to the girl on her parents behalf. Toby begins to jabber away in some weird semblance of a conversation with her, albeit he’s talking much more than Clockwork, and Jeff realizes he has an opportunity to pull away. An opportunity to go off and do something else, rather than be shown around by an overly excited muzzled kid.

So he does, subtly turning away and walking off to a different part of the house. Jeff didn’t fully know where exactly, though. Yet he somehow managed to find his way to the kitchen, his stomach demanding he eat. Feeling oddly pulled in this one specific direction. Honestly, when had he eaten last? How long had he been unconscious? He just wanted answers. Maybe a nap. The day had been eventful to say the least and he was incredibly tired. Food would be a suitable alternative for now though, since he has zero clue how to get back to his room. If he even had one.

Luckily there weren’t that many people in the kitchen. Honestly, Jeff was wondering where all the people he’d seen earlier had gone. Just how big was this house, fitting all of them and maybe more? Whatever. He’d ask questions whenever he got to meet the head honcho of this place. His talk with ‘Masky’ proved enough that there was a top of the food chain, somehow, and he’d be meeting them. Eventually. Would he be called like he was at the doctor’s office? Did Jeff need a piece of paper with a number on it? 

He needs to stop thinking for a minute or two. Opening up the worn fridge and surveying his available options. Which were… Slim to none. Most of this looked inedible or suspicious and the contents of the fridge were sparse in and of itself. Nice.

Jeff sighs, straightening back up. That is.. Mildly disappointing. Food would’ve been—

 

He pauses when he turns around, a small pile of candy is sitting on the kitchen island. A pile of candy that hadn’t been there before, brightly colored indicating that it was definitely not at all good for him. Yet there was another interesting sight. That being the head of another brown haired girl poking over the tail-end of the counter. Clearly a lot younger than the other members of the house he’s met so far. Watching with bright-eyed curiosity. Jeff looks right back at her. Kids were hard to read, you never knew what they wanted. She pointedly looks at the candy for a moment, before looking back at Jeff.

So, Jeff reaches over to the pile, and takes out a sucker. Cherry-flavored, evidenced by the red wrapping. Or he’s assuming it’s cherry, maybe it’s watermelon. Once he pops the candy into his mouth, muttering a small “thank you,” and the girl giggles before running off. Disappearing somewhere into the house. Other than her laughter, she made no sound. Everything in this house continues to just not make any sort of sense. Why was there a kid here? The sucker was cherry though, which made him feel a little better. Tasting also familiarly like dust or maybe cardboard. Jeff sighs, waiting for the moment he wakes up as if this was all one big dream. Despite everything this place, wherever and whatever it was, felt calm. Even with all of the oddities and weird people, it was calm. The people he’d met so far hadn’t so much spared a second glance at his appearance. There were no snide remarks, no whispering. Just casual acceptance, as if Jeff wasn’t the weirdest thing they’d seen. It was comforting, almost. Which wasn’t normal. Evidence of a dream, clearly.

Once the sucker is finished, Jeff tosses it in what he figures is the trash can. Considering the thing was set by the edge of the counter, he’s more than likely right. Although now he’s stuck without anything else to do and nowhere he plans on going. If Jeff was being honest with himself, he wasn’t really listening to Toby when he was talking. The kid was a rambler, that’s for sure, and he spoke so fast Jeff couldn’t really register what he was saying. So, for now, Jeff decides he’ll be stuck in the kitchen until he wants to leave. It’s a suitable place to be stuck in. Or, well, it would be if anything in that fridge looked remotely safe to eat.

 

Guess he’ll die of starvation. Or thirst. Whichever came first.

 

Jeff doesn’t know how long he’s standing in that kitchen, but he never really sees anybody pass through. No sign of life. Truly a dreamlike state. He’d begun picking at the pile of candy, and to say the least it’s grandparent candy. With wrapped caramels and those strawberry flavored ones that his mother had always said were cough drops. Liu would sneak him some regardless. A little secret they shared. Out of everything he expected from being in this random kitchen in a random house in the woods, he didn’t expect to feel so.. Sad? No, maybe nostalgic was a better word. Thumbing the plastic wrapper as he pops one of those strawberry candies in his mouth, rolling it over his tongue. 

 

Ah, Jeff’s losing it.

 

Eventually, there’s movement again in the periphery of his vision. Which usually means one thing, that someone is here. Or something’s fallen over. Either way, Jeff looks up, only to be met with Hoodie staring right back. At least, he’s assuming they’re looking at him in particular. It’s hard to tell with the mask or balaclava they’ve got on but considering there isn’t much else to see here, Jeff is probably the one Hoodie is looking at. Jeff stays quiet for a while, tapping his fingers together as if he’s expecting Hoodie to say something. He doesn’t know why since Hoodie hadn’t spoken at all, but he gives it a shot anyway.

Hoodie tilts his head a little to the side, as if gesturing to follow, before walking away. Or maybe they aren’t suggesting Jeff follow them at all. Jeff, for the life of him, cannot read Hoodie’s body language in the slightest. And he considers himself to be decent at reading bodily cues, yet Hoodie was just a complete wall of nothingness. Jeff hopes he’s right, as he pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against. Trailing behind Hoodie with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t fully know where he’s going, but Hoodie isn’t stopping Jeff from following as they ascend the center staircase of the house. Walking through long winding hallways that seem to stretch forever. Which.. Isn’t right.

Although Hoodie lifts a hand, completely covered like the rest of him, running it along the left wall as if the two of them were trapped in a maze of hallways and that this little method of Hoodie’s would help get them to the exit. Inevitably, it does. As Hoodie stops walking by a familiarly tall set of doors that Jeff recognizes as the entrance to the study. He didn’t realize how tall the doors were in the first place, following the length of the door frame only to realize it simply.. Never ended. The ceilings were too high to see where the door frame finally came to a stop, which was mildly unsettling.

 

“He’s waiting for you. Inside,” Hoodie says, voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper as if speaking was excruciatingly difficult. The words being pulled from his throat, simple as they were. Jeff glances at Hoodie, expecting them to say more, yet they don’t.

 

“Anything I need to know?” Jeff prompts, turning his head to look at Hoodie straight on.

 

“Don’t panic.”

 

Before Jeff could even open his mouth to ask why, Hoodie had turned around and walked back the way he came remarkably quickly. As if they didn’t want to be anywhere near the study anymore. Jeff sighs, turning back to the way-too-tall doors of the study. Raising a hand to knock as it was polite, and if this man was truly the boss of all these people Jeff might as well be polite. 

 

Yet his knuckles don’t even touch the door as it opens right for him with a gentle creak.

Notes:

Living it uppppp
Trying to make these things a little longer but golly i feel like it isn’t working.. stupid site i still dont fully understand.. shakes my fist.. Whatever idc this is for funsies..
See y’all next month :] sooner rather than later, hopefully!

Chapter 5: The Woodsman

Jeffrey doesn’t know what to think as he steps over the threshold between the study and the rest of the house, other than there is a shift in the air. Only able to describe this newfound tension as what he’d think it would feel like the few moments before getting struck by lightning. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he suddenly finds he cannot move. Some primal part of his brain is screaming to stay still, as something is watching him. Something that is dangerous. Something that could truly, truly hurt him.

“Ah. Jeffrey Woods.”

A voice. Some kind of a voice. Not masculine, not feminine. Something in between, or maybe echoing of both. Regardless, the gender was indiscernible. Yet the voice itself was smooth and borderline alluring, curling around his brain and trying to convince him to move from where he stood. Jeff almost does, but he freezes again as the sharp whine of white noise pierces through his ears alongside the pounding of his heartbeat. Whether it was from fear or a side-effect of that conniving parasitic voice infecting Jeff’s mind.

“Be not afraid, my boy. Come. Sit,” they say. Their voice is demanding. If Jeff didn’t listen, surely he would be punished. He doesn’t know how he comes to this conclusion, there’s no real evidence to back it, but he just knows it to be true and the sureness of this fact scares him. Yet his body moves, almost on its own, taking a seat on the couch in the study as he keeps his gaze locked on a certain part on the floor. Jeff was unable to lift his head, even if he tried. A discolored board, whoever had stained it missed a spot, catches his attention and Jeff can’t seem to tear his gaze away. If he looked up at who was speaking, he wouldn’t be able to remove their face from his mind. Cursed with their visage for life. Jeff doesn’t know where this thought came from either, his own mind continuing to betray him despite the writhing tendrils of calm trying to soothe his paranoid thoughts.

“Do you drink, Jeffrey?”

The chair behind the desk squeaks as it’s pushed back, and Jeff can hear the soft clicking of dress shoes on the wooden floor as the individual walks over to.. Perhaps a tray holding drinks? Alcohol? Jeff doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to look up. He can’t. He won’t. He can hear a bottle—no, two bottles—being popped open, the gentle sound of a liquid being poured into a glass, before the individual walks back to their desk. Sitting back down and adjusting the chair. Setting one glass off to the side, Jeff could hear the slight noise of it making contact with the desk.

“Does the boy speak, or do I need to pull it out of him?” The tone was distinctly threatening this time. Lower, crackling with.. Something. Like those spirit boxes flipping through the static of radio channels. Sharp. Tenuous.

“I.. No. No, sir, I don’t drink.” 

“Ah. The boy has manners.”

The voice seems to catch itself in its rising frustration, as it’s much calmer now after Jeff responds. Being polite was a good choice then. Clearly the individual liked being respected and liked holding all the power in a situation such as this. They wanted to remind their employees who was boss. Truly a top of the food chain, it appears. Jeff felt so small, like a mouse caught in a glue trap, thrashing in some semblance of distress that’d only be in vain. Squeaking, pleading for help that would not arrive. His fingers clutch at the leather of the couch, if he was any stronger or if his nails were longer he’d be ripping it. Yet Jeff feels like that wouldn’t matter in the end.

“Sally, darling, could you give this to Mr. Woods?”

“Okay!” Comes a higher pitched voice, one that belonged to a young girl. Jeff looks up, only to see just that. A little girl with a mop of brown hair and a frilly pink nightgown. It was the same girl from the kitchen, albeit sitting on the desk of this.. Long-fingered man. Just that small glimpse of whoever this was unsettled Jeff. Fingers far too long for any human to have, akin to the thin spindly branches of a tree. There’s a buzzing behind Jeff’s eyes now. He has seen too much, even with that tiny glimpse. But the girl, Sally, bounds over holding a few sheets of paper out to Jeff. As she gets closer, Jeff realizes just how bloody she is. Too much blood—was her body translucent?—yet she was bright-eyed and beaming. Jeff gingerly takes the papers from her and Sally goes back to sitting on the desk. Just barely catching a glimpse of the words neatly arranged on the paper before the voice sharply interrupts him.

“Those papers simply detail the terms and conditions of your residence here, there is no need to read them.”

Jeff swallows. No need to read them. What were the contents? Now Jeff couldn’t find the will to read the papers before him, so he sets them to the side. They would not be needed, he supposed. An urge had arisen in the back of his mind to lift his head regardless. Except it would be an urge to look at the entity. He doesn’t understand it. First, he was terrified. Frozen in fear as an immediate response. Yet as he continues to sit here, in the synthetic warmth of the study, Jeff wants to look. He’s curious. What could be so wrong with this individual that it’s giving him this much primal dread? But he wants to see. It can’t be that bad. What’s the harm? From all Jeff could tell of this house, the individuals within it just seemed scary. Sure, some were definitely a threat, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that fighting one another wasn’t tolerated. What’s the harm?

It’s okay. He’s safe. Nobody could touch him here, far as he can tell. What's the harm?

Jeff looks up. What’s the harm?

He doesn’t see their face at first. He has to crane his head up, up, up. He should’ve taken that as a sort of sign, a sign to not look. A sign to stop. And he should’ve stopped while he was ahead, but no, his sick curiosity had to be quenched. Maybe curiosity did kill the cat after all. The individual was tall. Very tall. Taller than that doctor, Jack. Taller than anything or anyone Jeff had seen. The idea that anyone could be that tall was frightening. Unsettling. No wonder their fingers were so long, the rest of their body likely had to compensate for these warped proportions. Tree-like. God, they must be so old.

Once Jeff sees their face, his blood seems to freeze in its veins. 

No face. There is no face. No features. No eyes. No mouth. No nose. The white noise is back again, thundering through Jeff’s ears and impeding his thoughts. The individual, that thing, was wearing some odd semblance of a suit. Thick and layered like bark, the odd skin of their head seeming stretched too thin. As if it was hiding something far worse than a featureless face. Everything about them was just wrong and off. Too natural for anything with a conscience, too unearthly to be something real. Jeff wants to look away, but he can’t. He can’t move. He’s so scared. Why can’t he move? It was just a blank canvas. No planes. No shadows. No curves other than the ones that made up the head. He can’t move. He can’t. He.

“You’re staring, Jeffrey Woods.”

Jeff can’t look away. He can’t peel his unblinking eyes away from the entity. The being. What was this thing? Just what was he getting into? He didn’t mean to, he just got lost in the woods. No wonder Masky seemed so tense and on edge around Jeff and the topic of his boss, this was.. Terrifying. Horrifying. He can’t breathe. Jeff can’t breathe. He can feel his vision beginning to blur, either by tears or by his airways slowly cutting themselves off. Gasping, trying to shovel air into his faltering lungs. Was this a panic attack? He hadn’t had one in years. Not one that was this bad anyway. He can’t breathe.

Oh god. He can’t breathe. He can’t move. He can’t do anything to stop it. He’s going to die here. He’s going to die of a heart attack, or from this panic attack, one of the two. He can’t do this. How could Jeff think there was a life for him after all he’s done? This is what he deserves. A death slow and painful as he clutches at his chest, unable to stop the fear bleeding through his veins. This was how he’d die.

 

But Jeff wakes up. 

 

No. 

 

No, he blinks.

 

A tissue has been pressed in his hand, fingers clutching around the thing, and the entity straightens their posture as they return to their desk. Their footsteps were light, a small ticking noise against wood vaguely reminiscent of dress shoes. They pick up the whiskey glass, that’s what it was, square and filled with an amber liquid, gently beginning to move it in an alluring circular motion. A calculated movement of the wrist, the slow movement of liquid in the glass. Unable to be drunk. No mouth. No eyes. No face. 

“You’re bleeding, Mr. Woods.”

It’s easier to move now. Easier to breathe. Jeff presses the pad of his ring finger to his nose, pulling it away only to see a deep red staining his pale skin. Darker than blood usually was, he’d know. He murmurs a hoarse apology, gingerly pressing the tissue to what remained of his nose to ensure no blood fell onto the beautifully stained floor of the study. Weren’t one of these boards discolored? Jeff couldn’t find it anymore. Static numbs his thoughts for a brief moment, and he forgets. The calm was a tenuous thing, held carefully like a leash. The entity tugs, Jeff’s gaze returns to its face. Or lack thereof.

“I understand your confusion. Your fear. But trust me, you will have a good life here,” the entity continues. Voice smooth, comforting now. “Of course. You will be working for me.”

“I..I’m working for you?” Jeff’s words feel heavy in his mouth, leaden. Like talking was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

“That’s what my contract dictates. You may live here, long as you like, and in return you do my bidding.” Bidding was a fun word they used. Making it sound like Jeff didn’t have much of a choice. While he figured it was true enough, the papers of a contract sat right next to him. He could read through them right now and confirm the entity’s words.

“What’s the name of my boss?”

“I have many names.”

“Give me one.” This thing was fickle, Jeff could tell. It enjoyed batting him around like a cat would hit a string toy. He wondered if it could laugh. If the voice he was hearing had any real source at all, or if it was simply in his head. The leash of calm around his mind is tugged again, the entity knows his attention is faltering.

“Slender. Or the Woodsman. Two, for good luck.”

That wasn’t a lucky number. Three was a lucky number. Jeff guesses the figure, Slender, doesn’t want to be told otherwise. The leash is taut, Jeff can feel it pressing into the crevices of his brain. He stares at the Woodsman for a long time, unable to look away. It’s a sick fascination, the taste of pennies present every time Jeff inhaled. A staggering breath. It’s likely the entity’s fault, the bloody nose and his condition. The calm was their fault as well. He’s bound to lose it eventually.

“You will have a room made up for you, and you will be working in the Medical Unit here for three months as you get settled.”

What? Hold on, what? Did Jeff hear that right? He’s fine with the room part, that makes sense if he’s meant to be living here, but work? Jeff straightens up a little more, shaking his head to try and clear the static that’s clouding every inch of his thoughts. To no avail, the static only seems to get worse. Blurring all of his thoughts, the few that he seems to be having, together. It feels intentional, a way to prevent Jeff from dwelling too long and asking too many questions of this being. Slender.

“I understand your confusion,” they croon. Could they croon? Could they make that sound, without a throat to speak from? Static. Static. Static. Focus, young man.

“Think of it as payback for wounding our best medic. A penance for your sinfulness.”

Sinfulness. That’s rich, coming from something that definitely feels like it shouldn’t exist. Jeff flinches as soon as the thought flows through his mind, almost as if he’d suddenly felt the shock of a slap hit him. Yet he hadn’t been touched and there had been no real impact. Although Jeff was sure that if he looked in a mirror, he’d see a growing red mark on his face. Could the Woodsman read his mind? God, it wouldn’t surprise him at this point. Static again disrupts this line of thought, Jeff couldn’t hold onto it even if he tried. Disappointing.

“Do you agree to these terms?”

It didn’t sound like a question. Masky must’ve gotten that strictness from somewhere, and Jeff was looking right at them. Forceful. Demanding an affirmative response, no room for denial.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeff bites out after the leash around his tenuous calm is tugged again. A response was asked for, and a response was given. The entity wanted respect at all times, and manners were clearly important. It was vaguely familiar to an older individual demanding politeness from some poor customer service worker, a situation Jeff had been in so many times before.

“Good. Now, get out. Sally will show you to your room, won’t you darling?”

“Yep! Sally is on the case!” Sally chirps, giving an exaggerated salute before floating—floating?— over to Jeff’s side. Hugging onto his arm, or trying to. It was apparently very difficult when you were.. Translucent. And dead. And a ghost. Oh, what the hell. Jeff’s learning to not question things anymore.

“Thank you sweetheart. Be sure to come right back.”

And that seemed to be that. Jeff was pulled up by the surprising strength of the young girl, being practically dragged out of the study in a familiar situation. To think this would occur twice in one day, being dragged out of a study by a younger individual, is a little funny. Jeff would laugh if he still didn’t feel so.. Off-kilter. Even as he leaves the study for the second time, Sally pulling him along somehow, the feeling doesn’t exactly go away. A haze still pleasantly settled over his mind. Maybe pleasant wasn’t the best word, as it felt more unnerving now. Unsteady, quickly frittering away the further he gets from the study.

Speaking of, how far away was his room exactly? Jeff knew the place was big, but not.. This big. He’d thought the escape attempt, with the oddly long and stretching halls, was some odd hallucination. Like in dreams when you’d think you were moving faster than you actually were. The halls couldn’t be that long or that big, the place had to follow normal rules of houses. That only made sense.

“..Sally, right?”

“Mm? Yeah, Hiii! Didja like the sucker?” Sally chirps in a light response, tilting her head back to look at Jeff with a wide grin. Eyes sparkling with such unrestrained joy.

“Yeah, it was good, but-“

“Goodie! I’m glad! LJ told me to maybe leave you be, since you’re new an’ all, but I thought you seemed nice! Plus I know the fridge doesn’t have many goodies and usually everybody likes candy.”

Sally rambles on for a bit longer, before Jeff can finally manage to get a word in.

“Sally?”

“Mmmhm?”

“How big is this place?”

At that Sally stops, turning around fully. She doesn’t seem displeased, more just curious.

“Did nobody tell you the deal here?” She asks, tilting her head to the side. Was there something Jeff was supposed to know when he got here? Some sort of disclaimer or notice? Was Jack supposed to give him an entire spiel, and Jeff just missed out on it since he tried to escape? God, Jeff just seems to keep missing things.

Sally could probably detect Jeff’s confusion before he even shakes his head, but she doesn’t appear to be surprised. Which he supposed made sense, she’d probably seen plenty of people come and go from the house. Which brings into question Sally’s age, but Jeff figures it isn’t much of an issue as she’s a ghost child. A wild statement to think, yet it truly doesn’t phase Jeff at this point. Things were already weird, and he was very sure they’d just get weirder. A great thought. For forever he’d be kept on his toes, for forever he’d never be calm again. Wonderful.

“Well, uh, the House is kind of alive. I think. I don’t really know. But it gets bigger when we need it to, so we’re going to your room. But we don’t know where it’ll be, so I’m going to where newer rooms are ‘cause I think that makes sense!” Sally replies, voice bright and cheery after a brief moment of hesitation. Likely due to her thinking over what to say and how to say it, as the idea of a living house sure was something to think about. It was funny, to Jeff anyway, that the girl would be so tentative after he’d just met and talked with a faceless man. Like a living house was an insane concept now.

Jeff never expected that those words would be something going through his mind, but it’s happening and he can’t really stop it. Whether or not this is a bad thing, Jeff doesn’t know. He doesn’t plan on thinking about it for a while. What he does plan on, however, is sleeping for several hours. 

Jeff simply nods to Sally’s statement, and she watches him for a moment before tugging him along again. Twisting and turning down the lengthy, almost never-ending, halls of the house. It felt like Jeff was in some sort of maze with oddly undulating walls. They definitely weren’t doing that before, but maybe that was because Jeff hadn’t used his eye drops yet. He’d need to do that. He still wonders where his bag was, and the synthetic calm slowly gives way to lethargy and exhaustion. So much so Jeff’s thought process blurs.

One moment he’s in the hallway with Sally, and then the next he’s in a glorified bedroom. Sally waves goodbye before floating through a wall, which confirms she’s a ghost. Which implies an existence of an afterlife. Great, more fuel for Jeff to ponder over when he inevitably has another mental breakdown. As Jeff finally turns to face his bedroom, his new living space, he isn’t exactly surprised by the quality. It reminds him of some cheap hotel room he’d stayed in during a road-trip with his family. Not necessarily high quality, but it was suitable enough.

Just a mattress on a wire bed-frame, a bedside drawer, and a window to the outside world. He guessed it was good enough. A blank slate to start anew, no matter how low quality. The blank  nature of the room reminded Jeff vaguely of when he was in the hospital. Both times he was there, actually. The only thing missing was the smell of bleach. He’d fix that, eventually. Jeff hadn’t been given any rules by the Slender man about redecorating his room, so nothing would be stopping him. Assumedly. No sign of his backpack anywhere though, so that was something to worry about. Wherever it was, Jeff only hoped that the residents here didn’t have any sticky fingers. That backpack practically had his livelihood in it, and his phone. A line of communication. A bit of an escape. 

Jeff was sure he’d need that in the days to come, especially if he’d be dealing with Jack and that Nurse all over again. Especially for three months. That’s a lot of time, and Jeff is tired. Relaxing to the best of his ability on the bare mattress, his body nearly crumbles. The exhaustion finally hits him like a truck.

He sleeps, somehow.

Notes:

Don’t mind how late in the month this is, I’ve been busy w/school <3
However, expect the next chapter to.. Take a hot minute. It’ll be a lot of writing I’m taking on, but it should be good. Maybe two months..

Chapter 6: Three Months of Med. School

Month One of Three

 

“FOUL FIEND, WAKE!”

 

And so Jeff does, with a loud shout. Scrambling to get away from the voice as if it was some sort of living nightmare, thumping his head against the wall, which makes him stop to cradle the back of his head. Groaning in pain, as the voice speaks again. It maintains its louder volume, which only seems to worsen Jeff’s now burgeoning headache. What a way to wake up.

 

“Foul fiend, thine presence has been requested at the Medical Unit!” The voice was loud and demanding, but it clearly belonged to a young woman. Jeff’s eyes focus on the person in front of him, a blonde with dark owlish eyes. Who was, for some reason, wearing a priest’s vestments. The whole nine yards. Cassock, collar, everything. Even a little halo headband. And a.. Wing cloak, oddly.

 

She bonks Jeff on the head with a gavel. When did she have a gavel.

 

“Hast thou heard me clearly? Do I need to annunciate? Must I contact the Nurse?”

 

“No. No- put that thing away!” Jeff bites out, smacking away the gavel as she rears back to hit him again. She scowls at him, turning away in a huff and storming out of his room. Jeff watches her leave, and he has half a mind to lay back down and sleep. Yet if the girl was sent to wake him up, he was probably late. How he could be late for a punishment, he doesn’t know. But the people in this house were weird and likely had weirder standards. So that little wake-up call was something meant to be followed, regardless of how much Jeff didn’t want to go through with this “punishment.” He couldn’t really say no in the matter, due to the fact there was some semblance of paperwork surrounding the issue. Probably not legal paperwork. Not like he’d have any idea what that would look like.

 

But whatever. It’s fine. Jeff can handle a few months of work. It’d be over in no time. The worst part about it, he supposed, was not getting paid for it. And having to deal with Jack, after he’d tried to gouge out his eyes. Jeff still doesn’t know whether he should feel bad or not, considering the situation and the high stress he’d been under at the time. The time being.. yesterday. Good lord. He sighs, eventually getting up and carefully rubbing his eyes. Looking down at his current attire and since he didn’t really have a change of clothes he figures it’s fine. Who cares?

 

As Jeff steps out of his bedroom, he realizes he probably should’ve asked that girl for directions. He had no clue where anything was in this damn house, just a general direction to go in to get where he needed to be. He knew that the “Medical Unit” was obviously somewhere among the many rooms, he remembers it from when he was running from Jack. Yet whether Jeff needs to go up or down the steps, he doesn’t know. He contemplates for a minute about maybe just deciding to go for it, yet it is very improbable that he’d ever be able to make it on time. As there seems to be some sort of time constraint either way. So, Jeff decides to instead knock on a few doors and ask for directions.

 

A majority of the doors don’t open to Jeff’s, hopefully insistent, knocking. But eventually one does open, just a little. Enough for Jeff to get a brief glimpse inside at the interior and at the person who resided there. They weren’t too tall, about Jeff’s height. With assumedly black hair and.. Glowing yellow eyes. Jeff was hoping for semi-normalcy, but he won’t be getting that today obviously. Maybe he should start getting rid of that hope, as normalcy definitely seemed to be unachievable now.

 

“..Yes?” The individual asks, voice softer and sounding a little suspicious. The door remains cracked open just enough for them to make eye contact with Jeff. Or some semblance of it, the person didn’t have discernible pupils.

 

“Uh. Hi, I’m Jeff and-“

 

“You’re new. I know.”

 

“Oh.”

 

It’s awkward for a few moments. Silent. Jeff had been planning on introducing himself, maybe making a friend as childish as the thought was, but the other person did not seem to care too much about his intentions.

 

“Where’s the Medical Unit?” He eventually asks. Running a hand down his face. No normalcy. No friends. Goodie. Jeff supposes he’ll just be a friendless freak for life. Expecting this place to be a fresh start was a little stupid, especially considering it seemed he had somewhat of a reputation that preceded him. Or that word of his antics spread quickly. Quickly enough to put people off of him, even if his reasoning behind attempting to escape was relatively justified.

 

“Keep walking down the stairs until you spot a door with purple duct tape over the nameplate,” the person starts, with a heavy sigh. “Should be either right across or two doors down. It has a white name plate. Or white door frame.”

 

Jeff nods, thanking the person and watching as they shut the door and lock it. He stands outside their door for a bit longer, before taking a breath and moving on. Just had to keep moving. If he kept moving, he could get through these three months with ease. Yet that seemed to be too big of a wish as he started on his journey down flights and flights of stairs. Occasionally holding onto the railing that would appear at times, especially when he seemed to tire. The house did seem to live and breathe, adjusting to its inhabitants.

 

Albeit that thought makes Jeff wonder if they were parasites.

 

He doesn’t entertain the thought for very long as Jeff spots the door with purple duct tape covering the name plate. Which makes Jeff realize that the person he spoke to didn’t have a name plate on their door. Fun. The purple duct tape had a crude drawing of a rabbit on it, so that was.. Great. But since he found that door, all he had to do was check around it to find the Medical Unit. Weird logic, but that was just fine. He ends up finding the white door, not a white name plate or a white door frame but just a white door, a few steps down. Easy-peasy. It totally didn’t take close to an hour of walking. Or maybe it did. He needs a watch.

 

He doesn’t bother knocking, opening the door to the Medical Unit and stepping inside. The silence is expected, but the staring wasn’t. There were four people in the Medical Unit, all people he recognized. Two being the nurse and Jack, another being the girl who woke him, and the fourth being.. Toby. Toby was sitting on a cot, with blood just oozing from a large gash in his leg. The same gash leaves a tear in his jeans. He grins at Jeff, happily waving. Jack, who was stitching the wound, looks up at Jeff. Or.. Well. Lifts his mask to look in his general direction. His gloved hand stilling.

 

“Tch. Boy. Quit standing there. Come here, Diana will give you your chores,” the nurse remarks. Her tone rough and harsh. Yet the girl, Diana, preens at the chance to be in charge. Jeff’s gaze is ripped away from Jack to look at the two women, and he huffs. Begrudgingly walking over. Watching Jack refocus on his task from the corner of his eye, albeit Jeff still feels like he’s looking at him. Fun. The nurse was tall and named Ann if Jeff’s reading her worn name tag right. He avoids eye contact, as per usual, but Ann snaps in front of his face to direct his gaze to Diana, the blonde.

 

And as if this girl couldn’t get any weirder, she unfurled a genuine scroll. Beginning to read it off in an overly dramatic voice, or maybe she just sounds like that. Which is arguably worse.

 

“You, Jeffrey Woods, shall be assigned today to the maintenance and repair of clothing. You shall hereby remain at this post until the end of the first week, where your assignment will be to aid Eyeless Jack with the organization of medical supplies,” which is about as much as Diana gets out before she starts droning on and on about arbitrary rules and what would violate HIPAA. Jeff’s started to tune her out, just a bunch of legal jargon. The fact that HIPAA applies here of all places is a little funny. Nurse Ann snaps her fingers in front of Jeff’s face again, and he refocuses.

 

“Can’t stitch. Hands are shaky,” Jeff replies. Lifting his head up a little to try and seem nonchalant and careless. He doesn’t think it’s working well with how Ann still looks at Jeff with such disdain. It’s easy to tell, even considering she has a surgical mask that covers the lower half of her face. Eyes don’t lie, or something.

 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re doing it.”

 

Ann shoves at Jeff’s shoulder a little, pointing to a pile of clothes on the cot next to Jack’s little station. Eyeless Jack, apparently. He’s probably called that because of his mask. Totally not for any other reason. Jeff doesn’t want to think of it. He just sighs and takes a seat on the cot by the pile of clothes. Which puts him within eyesight of Toby, who seems immeasurably pleased by this, but he doesn’t say anything. He just sits and smiles. Unsettling. Jeff figures he probably wants him to say something first, but Jeff doesn’t start the conversation like Toby wants. 

 

He simply picks up the needle and thread that had been set on the pile of clothes, focusing on trying to get the thread through that tiny tiny hole. No sewing machines in sight, so he was stuck hand-sewing. God, the last time he did this was in grade school. It was for some assignment, and Jeff failed horribly. Even then, he had incredibly mild tremors in his hands.

 

Yet the trauma, he supposed, in the years following made it worse. Nerve damage from being set ablaze isn’t curable, obviously. Even with all his physical therapy, which wasn’t much and mainly focused on fine motor function, his hands were never the same.

 

This would take hours. He knew it, and so did everyone else apparently. Looking towards Nurse Ann, only to hear her scoff out some sound that had a semblance of a laugh in it. Diana just outright laughed at him. He was sure Jack did too. He didn’t blame them all, honestly. It probably was a pretty depressing sight to look at. What a great day this has been so far, huh.

 

Jeff eventually gets it, tying a knot at the other end like he remembered, and begins to sew up some of the holes in the clothing. He knew at least one stitch that would work for this sort of thing, he had a phase of wanting strictly custom clothing and his dead therapist suggested it as a creative outlet, so at least the clothes wouldn’t fall apart. 

 

He ignores Toby throughout the process, ignores the subtle chirping of his to try and engage Jeff in conversation. Through the day, the pile of clothing never fully seems to shrink. But Toby does eventually leave.

 

Jack and Nurse Ann never leave the medical ward. A few people stroll through, Jeff recognizes Masky as one of those people simply from the smell of cigarettes rolling through the room and the fact that he hasn’t seen anyone else smoke, picking up clothes and dropping more off.

 

What did these people get up to all day? So many of the clothes that were dropped off were horribly torn or stained with something Jeff definitely recognized as blood.

 

Were they hunting? 

 

A thought comes to mind that they’re hunting people. That HABIT was telling the truth, and Jeff was living with murderers.

 

He doesn’t dwell on it long.

 

Eventually Jeff gets a calendar for his room and a proper date. It had been a week since he’d killed his therapist and ended up with a whole new life. March 26th. He’d be done with this stupid task around either May or June, thanks to this whole thing happening later in the month. The calendar also helps Jeff to remember one incredibly important thing.

 

He needs to do his HRT soon, and he has no way of accessing them without exposing a very vulnerable part of himself.

 

Jeff knows where they are, obviously. He’d seen them being kept in the medical ward over the many times he’s been there now. Organized and kept haphazardly with every other type of medication, as Nurse Ann was most definitely old-fashioned and likely had no clue what they were for. Maybe she assumed they were supplements or just some new-fangled medication. Which, honestly they were.

 

So Jeff decides to steal them.

 

It’s not the worst idea he’s had. In fact it’s actually quite tame. From a whole murder plot, to stealing his testosterone injections. The duality of man, two roads diverged in a yellow wood. God, he’s losing it already and the month isn’t even over.

 

Regardless, the plan is sound. He’ll stay up, which is an easy task as his sleep schedule was never the greatest in the first place, and then head down to the medical ward when he figures everyone would be asleep. It’s incredibly easy. Jeff is sure it’ll work out, these people have to sleep at some point. Regardless of their.. Inhuman nature. Everything needs sleep to survive. How hard could it be?

 

The staying awake part goes fine. Jeff busies himself by thinking of ways to further decorate his room beyond a working clock and a calendar. Maybe a chair or a shelf would do nicely. How he’d get those things, Jeff has no clue, but thinking about it helps keep him awake long enough to figure he should continue on his little heist.

 

He makes sure to keep his steps light as he walks down the stairs of the living House. Wondering if he was quiet enough, he could hear it breathe. Jeff doesn’t test the theory. Maybe because it scares him.

 

The medical ward is getting progressively easier and quicker to find, and Jeff makes his way inside.

 

Only to make direct eye contact with Jack.

 

Or. Well. It wasn’t eye contact. Jack wasn’t wearing his mask, looking like a deer caught in headlights, with no eyes to showcase fear. Just two empty sockets dripping a black fluid that vaguely reminded Jeff of oil. The two of them just stare at each other for a long moment, Jack’s tail lashing—wait he had a tail? When did he have a tail?—behind him as if he was genuinely agitated. Jeff didn’t know whether or not to go out the way he came, the door was right behind him, or to try and explain himself. He couldn’t read Jack or what he even planned to do, the silence sure wasn’t helping either.

 

So instead Jeff briefly focused on his face. Trying to not let the eye thing affect him too much, but if he could face a faceless entity he could look at an eyeless man.

 

Jack had horns. Small ones, small enough to not disturb how his mask laid against his face apparently, sprouted from his forehead between dark curls. What hair products did he use? He had good features too, a weird thing to say but it was something Jeff just noticed. He’s allowed to think that.

 

“You’re staring,” Jack grits out, almost snarling. The idea that a sound like that could come from a human, or at least somewhat human, throat is.. Interesting.

 

“Ah. Right. Uh, sorry.” Jeff glances away, back to the floor. Jack turns around and continues with what he was doing.

 

Which.. Seems to be rummaging through the fridge. Notably, the fridge that had the note forbidding anybody from coming near it. There was another fridge in the room, they had the budget for two apparently, but this one specifically was off-limits. It seems there were snacks in there of some kind, Jeff could hear a plastic bag being opened and.. Chewing noises. Not a fun noise to hear, but still.

 

“Why are you here?” Jack's voice rises again as the fridge door shuts.

 

Jeff takes this as a cue to look up, Jack is scowling and wiping at his mouth. Walking over and sitting down on a cot in the room, the springs creaking underneath him.

 

“Uuuh.. No reason.”

 

Jack just stares at Jeff. Somehow.

 

“..I was coming to get medicine.”

 

“At three in the morning?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Silence fills the room again, and Jack keeps his face trained in Jeff’s direction. Briefly clicking his tongue as he stands, Jeff swears he could almost hear his bones creaking. Jack walks over, closing the gap between the two of them just a bit more. He towers over Jeff, and it is.. Mildly intimidating.

 

“What medicine?” Is all he asks, before turning to the medicine cabinet on the wall. Bending a little to properly reach into said cabinet. Feeling over bottles and their labels.

 

“It’s embarrassing.” And a detail Jeff didn’t want to share. He wanted to keep that to himself, if possible. Especially in a place where he doesn’t know the motivations of anybody. What with the masks they’re so insistent on wearing. He can’t read them, ever, and so if he comes out he can’t predict the reaction. And that’s unsafe.

 

“It’s likely not. I’ve heard plenty worse,” Jack mutters in response. Taking out some bottles occasionally to.. Feel them in more detail? Was there braille on the bottles?

 

“I don’t know how to word it.”

 

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll eventually find it.”

 

“..What?”

 

“Ann labeled these all with names. Of either those who take them, or who we got them off of.” Jack holds out a bottle to Jeff, an offering of sorts, and Jeff walks over to take it. Closing the gap more between the two and reading the label on the bottle. He notices how the tips of Jack’s fingers are blackened, and how his nails are naturally sharp, before actually focusing on the thing in his hands.

 

The label was “Evan.” Jeff hadn’t heard of any Evan that lived in the house just yet, so maybe this was one of the ones they’d taken medication from. Some basic pain meds for migraines.

 

“Can I keep this?”

 

“Sure. Are you telling me what you need this medication for, or am I just going to have to find it?”

 

“You can find it. For fun. Got a sink in here?”

 

Jack turns and looks at Jeff again. Does he track him by sound? That’d make sense. He’s still scowling. Is he aware of that? Probably not. “You can see. Go,” he eventually replies before refocusing on the task of finding Jeff’s specifically labeled medication.

 

Such warmth and kindness.

 

Jeff shrugs it off, going over to the sink in the room. Truly looking like it was stitched into the wall. Much like the haphazardly put together lights, it looked like the sink had been taken from some gas station bathroom. Like literally stolen and put into the medical ward. It’s either an aesthetic choice, the hodgepodge nature of the house, or it’s genuinely how things are. If that’s true, then that’s not a great way to live. That’d be a hell of a project, trying to fix up this living house.

 

He fills up a glass he found around the sink, clean thank god, and checks over the pills information on the bottle. Luckily Jeff had taken these before, he’d since been taken off of them, and so he pops his old dosage into his mouth. Washing the pills down with a sip of water and emptying the rest of the glass into the sink.

 

Jeff turns around, only to see Jack simply standing with his injections in hand. Feeling over the braille freshly inscribed on the plastic bag. How could braille be inscribed on plastic, nobody knows. Magic or something.

 

“Think this is uh. Think this is yours.” Jack’s voice is softer now, it seems. His face smoothed into nonchalance over scowling, which was interesting to say the least. He knew what the injections were, clearly, and the reaction wasn’t necessarily a bad one. 

 

He holds out the bag to Jeff, more a peace offering than anything. A bit of an apology maybe for his offhanded treatment of him. Or maybe Jeff’s just reading into it a little too much.

 

Jeff bridges the gap again, taking the plastic bag with a muttered thank you. The air is nearly awkward again, and Jack is avoiding looking at him. Well. He can’t really see him. But Jeff’s point still stands in this situation.

 

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Jeff eventually decides to say. Picking at some lint on his sleeve. “For uh. Poking your.. Sockets.”

 

“It’s fine. I can.. Understand it in some respects.” 

 

Jeff looks at Jack for a long moment, before realizing he probably can’t see his raised brow. So he gives a brief little noncommittal hum instead, as a way to prompt elaboration or something.

 

“Oh. Well, I’m a large man. Something you’ve likely never seen before. I’m sure you were overstimulated.”

 

Well. Jack is currently at the top for the most well-spoken person in this house. And most communicative. Maybe Jeff should do an awards ceremony, give him an Oscar for this stellar example of communication. The bar was low, but still. Could Jeff consider this a bonding moment? He’s delusional enough to think that yes, he can.

 

“Ah, it’s- yeah. Yeah,” Jeff mutters briefly, running a hand down his face. Being mindful of the scarring. “I get it. Guess we can do halvsies on that one.”

 

“Halvsies.”

 

“Yeah, like. We can split the fault in that situation. You didn’t try to be accommodating-“

 

“I was accommodating!” Jack snaps, but it doesn’t feel like he was actually angry. He scoffs, shaking his head as Jeff continues talking. He definitely doesn’t realize he’s always scowling if his expression isn’t neutral. Maybe Jack’s focusing or something.

 

“Not enough apparently. Anyway, you didn’t try to be accommodating and I poked your eye sockets without hearing you out. Halvsies.”

 

Jack stares, again he doesn’t have eyes to stare with but again Jeff’s point still stands, before simply sighing.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. Halvsies,” he mutters after a few brief moments of silence. Holding out his hand to Jeff, assumedly to shake. Which he does, taking a few steps closer again. Jack’s got a good grip for a handshake. That makes sense, Jeff supposes, he was a doctor after all. Not a very professional one, but a doctor nonetheless. Steady and strong hands were probably written in the job description.

 

“Could you tell the Nurse to be nice to me, now?”

 

Jack laughs at that, a sharp sound, even though Jeff wasn’t really joking. Ann had been progressively getting meaner and meaner, and he thought it was because of overprotectiveness over Jack. The two did seem close after all.

 

“Nah. That’s just how she is.”

 

“Oh. Great.”

 

“You get used to it.”

 

Well. Maybe the months wouldn’t be so bad. 

 

Month Two of Three

 

A lot happens over the course of a month, apparently. Maybe it just feels like a lot compared to how uneventful Jeff’s life was beforehand. He didn’t truly live back then anyway, in this house it appears he’s of some use. Which is nice to know.

 

Nurse Ann keeps him busy. Either sewing up clothes, he’s gotten far better by now, or some other menial task. She’s taken to telling him to organize the pill cabinets alphabetically at least once a week. Since her and EJ—Jeff learned Jack somewhat preferred the nickname one late night visit for more migraine medication—were both so involved with the cabinets that they often got mixed up. It didn’t help with EJ’s blindness and how he had to bend over to grab a singular bottle of pills.

 

Regardless, it was fun. Menial, but enough to keep Jeff’s brain stimulated for a good amount of time. It also kept him distracted and busy, which meant nobody would talk to him. He wasn’t the most social person to begin with, and this place was definitely full of unappealing individuals. So it worked out.

 

It didn’t stop some people from trying to initiate conversation however.

 

“Jeffreeeeey! What’s up, ya bastard?” Comes HABIT’s voice one day, alongside the slinging of an arm around his shoulders. Which only worked because Jeff was sitting down, trying to finish up some clothing repairs before he got a new stack, as HABIT was.. Short.

 

“Hey, HABIT.”

 

“Would you be so kind as to stitch these up for me?” He drawls, propping his leg up on Jeff’s lap. There was one thing he’d learned about HABIT so far, and that was the fact that HABIT was very.. Touchy. Whether to intimidate or make someone uncomfortable, HABIT is a tactile person. An arm around the shoulders, his hands pinching someone’s cheek like an elderly grandmother, HABIT just does it without asking.

 

He doesn’t do anything weird, he just.. Touches. Most of the time Jeff is pretty sure it’s unintentional. A natural way for how HABIT functions.

 

Jeff looks at the wounds, sighing softly in a mild sense of exasperation. HABIT always seemed to target him for wound fixing, probably because the sight of blood still tends to make Jeff nauseous. Remembering the texture, the feeling. But it was fine. Jeff always handled it. Carefully stitching up HABIT’s wounds, which was a far better solution than what HABIT usually tended to do instead. Stapling his skin together.

 

And anything was better than that.

 

Even then, these visits from HABIT were infrequent. The man really only stopped in the medical ward very rarely, and he never stayed long. He would jabber a little with the doctors if they were in, but if not then he was back out onto the field. Luckily, this was one of those times. HABIT waving goodbye and leaving relatively quickly. Thank god.

 

It’s not that Jeff dislikes the guy, exhaling a long held breath after HABIT was out of eyesight, but he didn’t exactly like him either. HABIT was weird, scary, and it felt like anything Jeff learned about him only led to more questions. An endless circle of questioning. Jeff also knew that HABIT was incredibly dangerous, and that seemed to be the only thing about him that was factual over some obscure rumors or a lie HABIT told himself to get a laugh out of others and their misery.

 

It was a weird feeling, to be so unsure on whether you like someone or not, and Jeff hopes it clears up soon.

 

But sadly, Jeff can never seem to enjoy being by himself for very long as he glances up to see Nurse Ann walking into the medical ward. EJ was out doing something, he wasn’t allowed to know what apparently, so he’d been hoping for an easy day. Yet Jeff never really gets what he wants these days, he’s learned to live with it by now. Nurse Ann was easy to deal with as she was never pleased with anything Jeff did, but if he stayed quiet and looked busy, she wouldn’t comment at all.

 

Yet, again, it seemed like Jeff couldn’t really get any semblance of peace today. As Nurse Ann walks right over and stands beside him. Not sitting, but standing, in dead silence. He can feel her eyes focused completely on him and this whole thing seemed to be intentional. A way of showcasing dominance and having Jeff ask her what she needed, rather than Ann actually voicing her opinions. Or maybe he’s thinking too deeply into it, but it seemed to make sense with how Ann behaved.

 

”What’s up?” He eventually caves, letting his hands settle on the shirt he’d been working on fixing.

 

”How soon will you be finished?”

 

Jeff glances at the pile of clothes on his other side, and he’s pretty close to being done with this set. “Maybe ten, fifteen minutes?” He remarks, looking back up at Ann.

 

”Mm. You will finish faster. Five minutes.”

 

”Is something going on, or..?”

 

”We will be having a guest.” Ann walks away from Jeff toward the medicine cabinet. Checking through the pill bottles. “He should be arriving soon with supplies. You will help me sort through them and pay.”

 

They have money? 

 

Jeff is honestly not completely surprised by this whole deal of guests in the house. He’d seen a few residents come and go, he was never able to talk to them, but some people did seem to be unattached to the house itself.

 

“Lucky bastards,” Masky had muttered at one point when Jeff was getting a late-night snack. The man muttering gently to Hoodie, cigarette in his mouth.

 

Jeff didn’t want to test if he was one of these lucky bastards.

 

He just nods regardless, and works on finishing the pile of clothes. Might as well get started now over dwelling on menial thoughts and menial details. All will be explained, most likely, when the guest in question actually shows up. For all Jeff knows, it could be an hour before that happens. Ann didn’t have a good sense of time.

 

Surprisingly, though, she was right. A little off, but it sure isn’t an hour before Jeff hears a polite knock on the medical ward's door. Maybe ten minutes at the longest.

 

The guest in question was a young man with a very large backpack. He looked to be around Toby’s age, yet this was harder to discern thanks to the gas mask obscuring his entire face. Jeff’s really only guessing by his demeanor, height, and how he announced his presence. He was polite about it, likely seeing Jeff and Ann being busy, and didn’t go about barging in. He bothered to announce his presence beforehand. The goggles of his mask were cool to look at, at least. Sky blue and seemingly handmade.

 

One thing Jeff would give these people is that they were insanely creative and crafty. He’s pretty sure a majority of the things he’s seen worn by residents of the house are DIY or thrifted at the very least.

 

“Hello,” the person says. Voice on the softer side, but pretty clear through the mask. Jeff had been worried he wouldn’t be able to understand him.

 

“Hey. I’m Jeff, I’ll uh. Be the.. Manager? Of this interaction?” Jeff stands up, holding out his hand for the guest to shake. Nurse Ann hadn’t introduced herself, resorting to simply staring. Which seemed to be one of the few things she did other than, well, medical work. She never indulged in small talk, never did any other hobbies, nothing. Jeff hopes he’s being seen as friendly. If he was a guest in a random house in the woods, he’d hope for a friendly face.

 

“Hi, Cody, I go by X-Virus around the property.” The guest shakes his hand with a light nod of acknowledgment. X-Virus. No wonder he was here. They had to get supplies from somewhere, and there sure weren’t any towns nearby from what Jeff could tell.

 

Jeff helped Cody shrug off his massive pack, which dropped a little unceremoniously to the floor. Cody reassured both him, and a surprisingly distressed Ann, that nothing breakable was on the bottom of the pack. Opening it to show them, and to also get out the goods that Ann had requested. Ann standing up and finally walking over, gently sifting through the various medicines and medical supplies. Vintage jars of morphine and glass syringes seemed to be of the most intrigue for her, as her hands went to those first. Plucking them out and setting them to the side as she takes her leave. Letting Jeff sort through the rest, assumedly.

 

A daunting task, considering the sheer amount of things Cody could fit in his bag. Pill bottles never looked so small.

 

Luckily Cody was somewhat of a conversationalist. Talking with Jeff as he tried to preemptively sort through pill bottles. Organizing them arbitrarily by their function. Which only resulted in.. A big pile of painkillers, and smaller piles of medication with incredibly different purposes. Allergy relief, sleep medication, and appetite suppressants seemed to be the other big contenders.

 

Eventually EJ showed up again, crouching through the doorway and politely greeting Cody, so at the very least they had three people on sorting duty.

 

“Cody. How’s the following?” EJ eventually prompts, guiding Cody’s attention away from Jeff. Cody shrugs.

 

“Fine. You guys were a little hard to find this time. Rockier, weirdly? More roots to trip over.”

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

“It’s fine. Can’t help where you go!”

 

EJ laughed at that. At least, Jeff thinks he did. It was more a huff of air than anything close to a laugh, but he’s counting it. He should make a list of all the times EJ laughed, and what he laughed at in particular.

 

Regardless, the topic they were talking about was.. Interesting. The few times Jeff and EJ met up, EJ brought up how the house seemed to work. Seemed is the key word here, as the house was a living thing and connected to the Woodsman. Nobody knew how the Woodsman worked. Even those who worked directly underneath him, the proxies, which meant that the house was a similar enigma.

 

But they could make some educated guesses.

 

“When things get dicey, the Woodsman will move the house.” EJ had said after a few of their meet-ups, with a bit of prodding from Jeff for a proper answer rather than the vagueness he often got from other household members. For some reason everybody liked being vague. It was frustrating to no end, but EJ always tried to be as clear as possible.

 

“Move the house?” Jeff had replied, his attention being drawn away from the ever-increasing pile of clothes he had to fix.

 

“Yeah, like, we move to a different section of the woods. It takes a minute for the people who hang around the house to catch up.”

 

So it only made sense that Cody was one of those people. Albeit he specifically says he was just a follower of the house rather than anything similar to say, Kate. Who Jeff now knew to be one of the only household members to stay outside at all times. 

 

He’d never seen her indoors, and only was fully ‘introduced’ to her from a window.

 

“I don’t try to revolve my life around the house,” Cody remarks with a shrug. Staring at his stack of pill bottles, now suspiciously shaped like one of those cup towers, before taking them down into piles again. EJ had started to put them into cabinets now, and Jeff would occasionally get up to reorganize them. “It can get really bad for my mental health, and I like to keep some normalcy.”

 

Jeff nods along, understanding that to a certain degree. He hasn’t experienced many negative impacts to his health just yet, but it seems to be an inevitability.

 

Eventually, Cody leaves with a polite wave. His bag is surprisingly smaller without any pills or other various medical supplies to fill it near to the brim. Jeff eventually finishes up with the organization as well, occasionally asking EJ for some advice on where to put specific things.

 

“Cody was nice,” Jeff remarks to fill the silence. EJ turns his head to face him, drawn to the noise, and plucking the few things Jeff held out to him. Tucking them away in various shelves or other cabinets.

 

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. One of the few.”

 

Jeff hums as a reply at first, continuing to hand EJ eclectic medical supplies as silence returns to the room. Not a pure silence, the room was the equivalent of a hospital complete with buzzing lights, but it was all the same to him. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

 

Eventually he spoke up again, once he’d handed over the last of the medical equipment. A little unwilling to leave just yet.

 

“Do you think I could be like that?”

 

“Like what?” EJ isn’t looking at Jeff, not a big issue as the man was blind, prowling around the room before sitting on an unblemished cot. Legs bending in a way that looked to be a little uncomfortable, yet it likely wasn’t for him. It was probably normal.

 

“Like. A house guest,” Jeff mutters. Shrugging and pulling on the strings of his hoodie, fidgeting. “That I can come and go.”

 

EJ is silent for a long moment. Not an unusual thing, but this felt a little different for some reason. Like he was looking at him in some unreadable way under that mask. Like this was a dumb question.

 

“Yeah, yeah, stupid idea.“

 

“Very.”

 

“How kind,” Jeff mutters, rolling his eyes. He needs to get it together. Continuing towards the door, figuring he should leave before he talks himself into some sort of hole.

 

“Hey.”

 

Jeff stops again, halfway over the threshold. Turning back to face EJ. What now?

 

“..Uh. Should be getting some furniture soon. The runners grab pieces that look good quality. I can save you some.”

 

“I’d appreciate that.”

 

The Final Month

 

Jeff, with the help of EJ, pushes the final puzzle piece of his room into place. Over the weeks, he’d gotten some pieces of furniture with EJ’s help. Along with new clothes and trinkets from a supposed admirer.

 

“There we go. You should be set,” EJ said. Turning to look at Jeff. “Ready to head back to the ward?”

 

“Yeah, guess so. Thanks for the help,” Jeff replies. Leading the way back to the medical ward. Not minding how EJ walked behind him, it was what worked best for his sightless nature. It seemed like he could hear Jeff’s footsteps easier when he was directly behind him.

 

“Anytime. Figure it’s only right since you’re finishing up with us around the ward.”

 

Right. His penance would be up soon. He wouldn’t be required to come here and sew clothes for hours on end, Jeff could actually start doing things with his time. Things he enjoyed. Hobbies, or whatever.

 

Of which he had very few of, but with this newfound free time he could figure it out.

 

“Honestly, I might miss it,” Jeff remarks as his hand goes to the stair railing that just appeared. Lightly drumming his fingers along it before he eventually pulls away.

 

“Oh, even Ann?

 

“Maybe.”

 

“..Even Diana?” EJ comments, leaning up closer by Jeff’s ear. Clearly joking, and it gets a short laugh from him.

 

“God, no. Every time I’m in there she acts like I’m the devil personified.”

 

EJ chuckles at that, walking side-by-side with Jeff now. Maybe he knows they’re close to the medical ward. It’d make sense he would know the exact amount of steps to get there, but maybe Jeff was thinking too much in the terms of comic books. Then again, EJ wasn’t exactly a normal person anyway. If he counts steps, Jeff won’t knock it.

 

Eventually, they stop, EJ holding the door to the medical ward open for Jeff. He strolls inside, taking his usual seat in about the third cot from the door. Close enough to run, close enough to the necessities he needs. Ann had been keeping the nearest bedside table stocked with sewing supplies recently. A little late, considering Jeff wouldn’t be in the medical ward for much longer.

 

“You think I’ll be able to keep coming back?” Jeff remarks, threading a needle and beginning to start stitching up the first of his ever-increasing pile of clothing. His last one, and he’s surprised at the idea that he’ll miss doing this.

 

EJ hums, rummaging through his fridge. Jeff knew now that the reason why looking through that fridge wasn’t allowed was because it contained body parts. Mostly organs, as EJ had an eccentric diet for some reason. It seemed like a touchy subject, so Jeff never pushed.

 

“Well, yeah. You’re bound to get hurt,” EJ remarks. Biting into something. 

 

At least he had modesty and age turned away from Jeff. Jeff doesn’t know if he could handle watching EJ tearing into human organs.

 

“No, I mean like. To work.”

 

“Oh. Sure. We won’t pay you.”

 

Jeff snorts. “Still shocks me that you have money here.”

 

EJ shrugs, and that seems to be the end of the conversation. Not the worst thing in the world, EJ wasn’t exactly one for small talk. Yet whenever Jeff would ask questions or prompt him, EJ would always respond, which was nice.

 

The idea that Jeff could still stop by and indulge in the routine and quiet in the medical ward was a comfortable one. Sure, he should’ve just assumed that was how things would go, but Jeff likes verbal confirmation. Plus, if he has EJ’s approval, Ann can’t try to usher him out under the guise of Jeff not being allowed inside. As apparently most people in the house couldn’t just dawdle in the medical ward.

 

Jeff supposed that made sense. Both Ann and EJ were very focused and took their jobs as the designated medics incredibly seriously. Having too many extra people in the ward could be distracting.

 

But Jeff could be quiet. He could behave, unlike some people in this house. More than once, Jeff had the privacy of his own room callously invaded. People just didn’t knock.

 

Eventually, someone enters the medical ward. It doesn’t phase Jeff anymore, people are always coming in and out with various issues EJ has to deal with. Just EJ, as Ann apparently wasn’t trusted with the more delicate processes. Something about being old-fashioned. Regardless, Jeff only knows someone comes in because of their footsteps and the fact that EJ moves from his spot across the room. Which he usually doesn’t do.

 

“Hey, Jack.”

 

“Masky.” That makes Jeff stop and look up, Masky was an unusual person to come into the medical ward. He usually came for clothes, not for wounds. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

 

“I know. I’ve been busy.”

 

Masky speaks very cordially to EJ, his tone warmer than Jeff has ever heard it. Then again, Jeff has been so heavily focused on finishing his “penance” that he’d been avoiding interaction with other household members. Although, even if he wasn’t working in the medical ward, he’d probably be holed up in his room by now. Avoiding all forms of contact until he was ready to actually try to communicate.

 

Jeff watches as Masky walks over to EJ, pausing when he sees Jeff. Sitting in front of him and lifting his sweatshirt, turning away just enough so Jeff couldn’t see the extent of his injury. Huh.

 

He doesn’t bother asking, but it seems EJ and Masky’s conversation was abruptly cut short when Jeff was acknowledged. He knew Masky didn’t have the highest opinion of other household members, really just hearing about it through the grapevine, but was it seriously this bad?

 

Sure, Jeff makes assumptions like this all the time about new people, but he was pretty sure he’d been making a decent impression.

 

Hell, he was fixing Masky’s clothes relatively often. That was grounds for some politeness. But maybe he was expecting too much from a guy who more than likely killed people for a living. Maybe a lack of politeness was a good thing. He should focus on finishing this pile of clothes, and hopefully it’ll be the last one Jeff ever has to do. He’s grown tired of looking at fabric.

 

Masky and EJ eventually begin whispering to one another. Conspiratorially, for sure.

 

Yes, Jeff’s being a bit dramatic and petty about the fact that Masky clearly doesn’t have the highest opinion of him. He’s allowed! Especially since he’s essentially working the register while Masky takes three centuries to order something. Jeff is providing a service.

 

He’s getting in his head about that too. Good lord, he needs to focus. Sew clothes, Jeff. Sew clothes. Lock in.

 

Eventually Jeff does manage to finish his final pile of clothes, albeit it takes a while as his thoughts just kept wandering around for a few hours more until they settled. He had to do an extra or two, Masky did have a tear in his shirt from whoever attacked him, but it wasn’t anything crazy unachievable.

 

The rest of the day isn’t exactly eventful. It’s just like any other day. Jeff eats, vaguely attempts to mingle, and otherwise continues with his routine as normal. His workload is light, barely anything is left to be done after the clothing pile is fully finished. Ann doesn’t even have Diana pester him with loud, unneeded, conversation.

 

It was… A little disappointing. He was expecting some big final send off. Some form of congratulations for playing make believe as an unpaid, minimum wage worker.

 

All this work, and for what? A pat on the back? An incredibly awkward “thank you” from EJ?

 

He was sweet about it though, for acknowledging Jeff’s departure in the first place when the time finally came around. Treating it like Jeff was going off to war rather than not spending nearly the entire day in a medical ward. They lived in the same house. They’d see each other.

 

Regardless, it was funny.

 

”I got you something,” EJ had said the final week of Jeff’s penance, a small box in hand. “Think of it like a parting gift.”

 

”You’re acting like I’m not going to be seeing you for three years,” Jeff replied with a short laugh, but he took the box regardless. For its size it honestly had a decent amount of weight to it. Whatever was in here was something high quality. Or a rock.

 

”I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than just hang around Ann and I. Plus, the Woodsman seems to like you.”

 

”Is that a bad thing?”

 

”It’s a death sentence.” Comforting.

 

Jeff shakes the box a little, just for fun. Trying to guess what was inside just from how it bounced around in there. It was a big item, that was for sure. Not a bunch of separate little things. Good. Jeff hates that sort of gift. Not like EJ would know.

 

“Thanks for the gift.”

 

“Yeah, no problem. Open it when you get to your room.”

 

“Awh, what? Don’t want to see my reaction?”

 

Jeff regrets it as soon as it’s out of his mouth since, well, EJ can’t see. It’s awkwardly quiet for a bit, but he thinks he hears EJ huff out a laugh. So at the least, he’s not offended.

 

“Sure.”

 

With that as the final word, Jeff leaves before he somehow manages to dig a hole for himself trying to apologize for doing nothing wrong. Beginning the trek back to his room immediately, not looking back despite wanting to. Not like he could read EJ’s reaction to his abrupt departure anyway, and it’s not like they wouldn’t see each other again.

 

The box is held out in front of him, and Jeff keeps glancing down as he returns to his room. Silently wondering what could be inside, what gift would be of any use to him at this point.

 

Once Jeff is inside his room, he finally decides on the fact that his reaction was.. A little drastic. EJ clearly didn’t care about the joke, probably even finding it funny, and Jeff just ran away. Maybe this is a sign he has some fear of rejection. A fear he can’t resolve with his therapist, because he killed her. Goodie, guess he’s stuck with that for life.

 

He sits on the edge of his bed, the box settled on his lap. Guess he should open it now. Reveal his prize for three months of work.

 

It’s just a simple white box, no flourishes, so he lifts off the lid only to reveal a beautifully and graciously clean knife. A weighty thing, for sure, but once Jeff holds it in his hands the weight doesn’t seem to matter.

 

It felt comfortable. Familiar. 

 

It wasn’t his knife. Not the one he used however many years ago. That had been confiscated for evidence, and it likely never left the police station after being checked for fingerprints. It was damning enough, and the kitchen knife would never again be used to cut menial things like fruit or meat.

 

This was good quality, something genuinely used to hunt. Evident by the slight serrated edge. Where did EJ find something so well-made?

 

A note is attached to the hilt.

 

Welcome home.

Notes:

ITS FINALLY HERE!!

ough, life got hectic. New dog, job, and upcoming college stuff.
Same deal with this chapter, the next one might not be done by the end of the month due to all of the things ive been getting into as of late!

Yeah, yeah, I need to get better at managing my time and projects, but I’m having fun.