The forest was darker then Jack remembered.

Ever since you had gone home in the early hours of the morning a few days before, he had grown more and more restless. Despite the long conversations you had had with him over messages, he hadn't been given the opportunity to ask if you had broken up with Socks yet.

It would be a lie if he said he wasn't getting desperate, and that's exactly why he borrowed Greg's car and drove out to the forest to check on his shrine.

As he strayed away from the path to your house, in the direction he hoped was the right one, he remembered how easy it had been when he had been a Proxy—not that he wanted to return to that life, of course. He had had night vision, increased stealth (which he had kept), and the ability to run faster then the average human. Now, all he had was his wits and words to keep him out of suspicion.

There were lots of people who would disapprove of what he did. They would label him a 'freak' and demand that he be imprisoned or killed, yet none of them knew why he did what he did. And why should they? His motivation wasn't one born from ill-intentions or perverse fantasies; all he wanted to do was make you happy and give you the love and affection that you deserved.

Is that wrong? 

The pathetic light emanating from the small torch on his phone illuminated the familiar shack. The corners of Jack's lips curled upwards in a gleefully surprised grin, and he murmured, 'Still empty. As it should be.'

Slipping into the small space, he was relieved to see that the cupboard that housed his shrine was still there. Unlocking it with the key that had remained around his neck, a twinge of surprise (and, if he was honest, panic) spiked in his heart when he noticed an addition to the top half that he didn't remember making.

A piece of paper was draped over the photo frame that made up the centrepiece, and Jack gingerly picked it up and turned it the right way round. It was covered in your handwriting and, after closer reading, he realised with a start that it was the letter you had left him before the ritual.

Who put this here, I wonder?

As far as he knew, no one was aware of the shack's existence, not even you. Jack had only found it by chance, and the previous occupant (that had oh so graciously vacated the premises) never mentioned anything about relatives or friends who visited; who would want to visit someone living in a derelict shed in the middle of a forest? His common sense said, 'No one.'

Was the sudden appearance of the note a sign from one of the other Proxies, or perhaps from Chernabog himself? Was it a great big fuck you placed in the shrine as a way to tease or torment him, silently preying on his insecurities and fears?

Whatever the reason, Jack wasn't going to throw the letter out. How could he? You had written it to him while preparing to sacrifice yourself for him. You had been so selfless, so benevolent, and so altruistic, that merely remembering your kind acts made Jack's soul sing. 

You had always been generous to him. Even when you didn't know him, you had still been kind. Four years ago, not long after the ritual had ripped his humanity away from him, he had been a mess—a scared and confused mess. In his fear and confusion, he had ran away from his university campus and, thanks to his newfound speed, ended up hiding in yours. You had walked past him one night, when it was so dark that his already masked face was obscured by the thick darkness.

At first, he had been scared of you. He could tell that you could see him by the way your eyes scoped up and down his shadowy outline. Then, thinking he was a fellow student, you had asked: 'Hey, are you going into the library?'

He had stupidly stammered, 'Yes.'

'They changed the door code to 3867Y this morning. By the way, you okay? You sound cold.'

'N-No. I'm fine. Thanks.' He had retreated far into the shadows after that, silently watching you walk off in the direction of your dorm room. Curiosity got the better of him, though, and he followed you. He followed you for weeks up until Slenderman recruited him, and he broke into your dorm to steal a hoodie.

Looking back at it, he found the evolution of his feelings rather amusing. He hadn't fallen for you on sight, but instead fell for you over the weeks of observation and listening to the conversations you had with your friends and teachers. Physical appearances had never bothered him much, and, while you certainly were pretty, he found that your personality had ensnared him like a spider's web ensnares a fly. You were witty, and caring, and smart, and everything else that he admired in a person. You were perfect.

The growling hum of a nearby car engine brought Jack away from his amorous thoughts. Locking the shrine, he quickly exited the shack just in time to see a small, red hatchback crawling through the forest. It wasn't going any faster than two miles an hour, so Jack had no problem striding alongside to knock on the driver's window.

The window rolled down, revealing a young man Jack had never seen. He was dressed in dark clothing, and a backpack sat in the passenger's seat.

'Hey,' the stranger said before Jack could even begin to speak, 'which way to Brewster Cottage?'

Jack narrowed his eyes. 'Why're you asking?' That's (Y/N)'s house. What business does this freak have with them?

'Oh, it's where my aunt lives. I've been meaning to visit for ages, but like, I got busy, y'know?' The man shrugged. 'So...do you know where it is?'

Stay calm stay calm stay calm—'You have a lot of nerve lying to my face like that.'

'Huh? I'm not lying! Jeez, I'll find the place myself then.' He went to drive off, but when Jack suddenly thrust his hand through the open window and wrapped his fingers around his neck, the man realised that driving away was a very bad idea as Jack's fingernails dug into his skin.

'Lying about lying. You really aren't setting a good first impression.' Thank God I brought a knife. 'Now, what're you really doing here, hm? And don't try and lie to me again, or else—' he took out the blade and let it glint under the inside car lights—'you'll realise how painful it is to bleed to death.'

The man's eyes widened, following the knife nervously. 'S-Shit, man, I was just gonna nick a few things.'

'Robbery? Really?'

'It's not that big a deal! It's a little house in the middle of fuckin' nowhere, who's gonna care?'

Wrong thing to say, buddy. 'Maybe the man with a knife, who happens to know the person living in that little house,' Jack growled, 'did you ever think of that?'

The man swallowed nervously. 'Fuck me,' he whimpered.

'Hm, no thanks. Get out of the car.' Jack removed his hand from the man's neck, but kept the knife pointed at him to silently warn him that attempting to run was going to end in a one way ticket to the afterlife.

The man seemed to understand this and slowly got out, leaving the bag in the passenger side seat where it was. (He had noticed Jack glaring at it, as though he could see the gun hidden inside.) Following Jack's silent directions, the man took two large steps away from the car and held his hands up. As his heart bounced around his throat, he made a quick, silent prayer. He hadn't expected to run into anyone. All he wanted to do was get in, steal some valuables, and 'take care' of the occupant if needed.

Jack had, of course, though of this, and to prevent any harm from coming to you, there was only one correct course of action, wasn't?

While the man wasn't looking, Jack made sure his tee shirt would remain clean before reaching around the man's torso and plunging the freshly sharpened blade into his chest, making sure that the heart or lungs were penetrated before twisting the knife—for good measure, of course—and removing it. (Jack was impressed with how accurate the strike was. Many normal people would never manage to maim the heart in such a way, but he'd had a lot of practice that clearly never left him.)

The man spluttered, falling to his knees in shock. Inside his body, the punctured heart was quickly killing him; the cerebral blood flow was seeping through the hole in his chest instead of being forced to the brain. The sudden drop in blood pressure was too much for the body to handle, and the man was unconscious in seconds, keeling over so his face was buried in the mud. He was dead not long after, blood soaking the earth underneath his fallen corpse, as well as his clothes.

A job well done, Jack thought to himself as he wiped the blade on the man's jeans. Now, how to dispose of this thing.

He could use the river to get rid of it, but it would probably get caught in a bank or in some weeds and then discovered by a particularly unlucky walker. The sea was the better option if going for the 'dump it in water' route (since the salinity levels helped wipe away any evidence implicating him, and the natural decomposers would erase the corpse's existence), but he would have to find some weights to hold down the stripped corpse. He had no acid, no hairspray (though, he could buy some), no pigs, and no paraffin. He was well and truly limited on options.

Something stirred behind him. Jack whirled around, fully prepared to silence another unfortunate soul. When he saw who it was, however, he relaxed his muscles and groaned in mild annoyance.

'God, I thought you would leave me alone,' he said, 'or have I been placed on a hit list for knowing too much shit?' He hoped the sarcasm wouldn't be lost, and thankfully, it wasn't.

The clock that leered at him ticked to half past two as the sewn-up smile seemed to widen. 'Just thought it would be nice to check-in with my favourite ex-demon. That's not a crime, right?'

CELEBRATORY CHAPTER TO CELEBRATE TAKING 28 EXAMS WOOOOOOOO

im so glad that i finally finished my exams. i've been stressing over them for years, and to be done with them is like a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. more excited to finally drop all the shit i dont need and focus on my history studies eheheheh. now its just time to wait for the results in august

(i've gotta repeat this in two years time. or next year. idk how the next set of qualifications work.)

- gravity

p.s. probably gonna update more now, since i no longer have the structure and routine of lessons ;-;