First of all I want to thank everyone who gave this story a heart and everyone who commented. This story already has over 300 hearts! It's just awesome! I still can't believe it. Also I'd like to thank all my followers, you people are amazing and your support drives me to continue on with this story.

Note:

This chapter contains vulgar language, Be prepared!

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'Thump thump... thump thump... thump thump...'

You heard something. A faint sound which was slowly filling your ears. It sounded familiar, but you had no idea where it came from. It felt so close...

Wait a minute!

It was your own heart! It was still beating! You immediately gasped, sucking in much needed air as the pressure in your chest grew stronger and stronger. Your eyes shot open, being greeted by utter darkness as your eyelids kept resisting.

Once you felt like you had control over your own body again you tried to take a look around, but it was too dark to see anything. As you tried to move your body you realized you were on a chair, hands tied behind your back while the rough, wooden material of a table was brushing against your stomach each time you inhaled.

It was then it all came back. The alarms, the gun... The killer. You just could not believe that you had shot him, several times! He never collapsed! He just attacked you like that! Oh no... Where are you? Is this where your friends met their ends?

Because of the draft slowly hovering over the bare skin on your legs, you knew you were still in your pajamas. You didn't expect anything else, and to be honest you didn't really want anything else. Being in the same clothes as you were before gave you some sort of reassurance.

You felt as if your skin was being straightened and a metal like scent filled your nostrils. You realized that you were still covered in dried up blood, making you feel sick and in need of a shower. But getting out of here was all that mattered now.

You tried to struggle against your restraints, but it was of no use. The only thing you'd managed to do was alarming the killers that you were awake, because of the tinkling of your handcuffs.

Right at that moment the door swung open, the light which emerged from the opening immediately blinding you. You closed your eyes, making sure to protect your pupils from the overload of light.

"Finally, you're awake." You heard the person huffing. You now recognized this voice, nearly cowering in fear as you heard his heavy combat boots coming closer. You begged your eyes to adjust to the light as soon as possible, because you wanted to see what he was planning.

Or maybe not.

"You took fucking long, you know that? I hate waiting, especially when that pathetic body of you is so close." His leathery fingers entangled themselves in your hair, some sort of twisted form of comforting. You swallowed the lump in your throat, before gathering the courage to speak:

"Why am I here?!" It came out of your mouth a lot less strong than planned, but you had no time to care about it. Immediately, his charred fingers gripped your hair tightly, yanking your head upwards so that you could get a good look at his deranged face.

"Don't fucking talk back to me unless asked a question, understood?!" His grip on your hair seemed to tighten with the second and you could only murmur a painful 'yes' before he had let go. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him grinning at your fear.

"Let's begin, shall we? The sooner this is over with the sooner we can start." His sentence was followed by a low giggle, glancing your way to see if you had caught on. You had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but you were too scared to find out.

Suddenly he turned, slamming his hands on the table in front of you with such force that the wooden furniture began to creak in protest. You nearly jumped out of fright, visibly scared whilst he only stared at you with his wide grin extending.

"What do you know about the Creepypasta project?" The Creepypasta project? What in the world was he talking about? You didn't know anything about this!

"N-Nothing." You stuttered out of breath, afraid as this guy leaned over the table. His lidless orbs would narrow if they could and his hot breath brushed against your skin.

"Bullshit." He pushed himself away from the table before yelling:

"That is total bullshit! You do fucking know something, do I have to remind you?!" He took big steps towards you, his footsteps stomping on the ground before he got to you. You flinched as his hand again entangled itself with your hair on the back of your head.

"What do you fucking know about the Creepypasta project?!" You tried to struggle against his metal grip, but it was useless. You wanted to tell him you did know, hoping that this answer would satisfy him, but you couldn't lie. You had no idea what he was talking about.

"I-I don't know!"

SLAM!

Your head was roughly banged against the table in front of you, nearly leaving a dent in the wood. You gasped for oxygen as the smack had struck the air right out of your lungs, not to mention the pain spreading through your whole body.

"Don't fucking lie to me! Tell me!" You could feel his patience reducing to a minimum, but you had no idea what he meant! What did he want from you?!

"I DON'T KNOW!" You yelled in panic, desperation taking over as you felt your head being slammed against the table again. Leaving it marked with a red liquid. Your own blood this time. You felt it slowly dripping down your head as he had yet slammed you against the table another time.

Once he had pulled you back up you felt his leathery hand enclosing itself around your throat. You tried to suck in any air, but it was impossible. He was completely shutting off your trachea, preventing any oxygen to fill or escape your lungs.

"You're making this even worse than it has to be!" You stared into those lidless orbs of him, clearly seeing his insanity and completely crazy mind reflected in them. You could only look, feeling your whole body desperately shaking and screaming for oxygen.

He was going to kill you, you just knew it! His grip tightened even more, and you felt your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. This was it, this was your end. You would never see your parents again, or your friends for that matter.

Suddenly his grip weakened before he pushed you with such force that your chair fell backwards. You landed on your hands, the pain of the still sore wrist doubling and you began to scream. He muttered something you couldn't understand, before he stomped off, leaving you on the cold, dirty floor.

~~

You had been lying here for hours, or so it seemed. The only sounds heard came from the mousses crawling on the floor and your quiet sobs. You only stared at the ceiling while the salty tears stained your cheeks, it was already stained with blood anyway, and the wound on your head didn't stop bleeding.

Then you heard footsteps coming your way. You immediately silenced yourself, holding your breath as you heard the doorknob slowly twisting. The door opened, again filling the room with light. You, however, couldn't see who it was, but you mentally prayed it wasn't Jeff.

"Look at that, Hoodie, Jeff's already been here." You mentally cringed at the mere sound of his name. Curiosity took over when you realized this wasn't Jeff and you tried to take a peek at them. Your current position made this impossible.

"W-Who are you?" You dared to ask. Even though Jeff had abused you for only asking a question, you had the guts to do it again. As long as you got answers before you died.

Suddenly you felt a foot pressing onto your stomach, causing your whole body including the chair to lean on your sore wrist. You cried out in pain, biting on your lip to prevent any more sounds from coming out of your throat as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes.

"What was that? Didn't quite catch it." The foot pressed even harder, you dared to look at this person standing above of you. His face was covered by a white mask; he wore a yellow jacket of some sorts. His voice had a hint of insanity in it, just like Jeff's had.

"S-Stop!" You cried out as he pushed even harder. You tried shaking your body and hoping to ease the pain somehow.

"Masky, stop playing with your victim and interrogate her already. We don't have all day." An unknown voice spoke. You could not see who it was, but he sure did give you the chills. This room was filled with insanity and you didn't want to stay to find out where it came from.

"What's up your ass Hoodie?" You felt the pressure on your stomach slightly decreasing, and you gave a loud sigh of relief once this man had stepped off of you. Then suddenly you were yanked straight up by your chair, yelping in the process.

You had clenched your eyes shut in order for you to not get dizzy, but once you stood completely still you felt a hand roughly pat against your face.

"You're with me, sunshine?" You immediately opened your eyes to see the masked man standing right in front of you, his hand the one slapping your face. You eyes shifted towards yet another figure standing in the corner of the room, his arms crossed and body turned towards you.

He wore a yellow hoody, nearly covering his face. However a red sad smiley face was shown from underneath the yellow fabric, indicating that this man was also wearing a mask. His hands were gloved and one of them clutched a blade tightly.

You knew these two were not to fuck with.

"You know, you gave us a really hard time there, human. Constantly hiding your pathetic ass while we would get you anyway." The masked man chuckled, shaking his head before turning his attention back to your cowering form.

"So tell me, what do you know about the Creepypasta project?" Your hope of ever escaping this shithole tumbled deep into your shoes as he asked that damned question. How were you supposed to know? What gave those creepers the idea that you even heard of this so called 'Creepypasta project'?

"I-I... Don't know." You replied honestly, hoping that they would somehow know you're telling the truth. Probably not. Your eyes were fixed on the table, the blood red dent in the rough material clearly shown and you prayed that these guys would show mercy.

"You don't want to co-operate, huh? Your choice." He then walked towards the back of the room, snatching something of the wall and then stepping back into the light. A hammer. He took a fucking hammer off the wall. He was probably going to smash your skull into thousands of tiny pieces.

Once you saw the hammer you immediately began to panic, feeling the cold sweat engulfing your small frame as you cried out:

"I don't fucking know what you people are talking about! I don't know this project! How should I know?!" Desperation filled your veins as you could only stare at the menacing hammer coming your way, the guy taking slow steps.

"This one is feistier than the others, don't you think so Hoodie?"The masked man turned towards the still unmoving guy at the back of the room, the hammer dangerously swinging in his left hand. The hooded man didn't reply, he only stood there, watching you.

"I wonder if she'll keep up that nasty mouth once I've smashed her teeth." Your eyes widened as you recalled what he had said. Smash your teeth?! These guys really are insane!

"I think she really doesn't know what we're talking about." Your head snapped towards the voice coming from the back of the room. It was that hooded guy who spoke; he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He did believe you?! The masked guy turned around, giving a small 'humpf' out of confusion as the hooded guy stepped towards you.

"She has to know, she's been with those FBI guys for weeks." The masked man replied, nearly mocking his hooded companion for saying such foolish things. But it was the truth, if he could only understand.

"Maybe she needs some... explanation." The hooded man said, stopping next to the masked one before stretching his gloved hand out to you, as if gesturing you to talk. You quickly opened your mouth, carefully trying to form proper words and not insult these two.

After all, he gave you a chance.

"I-I just don't know what this Creepypasta project is...What do you mean by it?" You replied with shaking breaths, stuttering over nearly every word which came out of your mouth. Both stood there in silence, eyeing (at least, that's what you thought) you before the masked man spoke.

"Well, since you asked so nicely-" With an emphasis on nicely. "I guess I can tell you. Those fucknuts who go around killing stupid humans are in the sight of the FBI. They are working on something, but we don't know what. We eventually found their operational building, but except for a few failed plans and a dead corpse of another Creepypasta, we couldn't find anything of use. Until we got the tip that they had hidden the thing we were looking for somewhere else. Those twats you were running from that night were send to retrieve the thing we were looking for."

He began to chuckle loudly, nearly laughing before continuing his story.

"Of course, they fucked up and couldn't find it. So our boss wanted you useless pieces of shit to tell us where this something is because he knew one of you is the daughter of one of the idiots daring to go up against us."

It was then realization had dawned up on you. It felt as if all the pieces of a puzzle were finally complete, as if the gears on your head finnaly began to turn at their full rate. All this information overload was being collected and turned into one big but clear picture. You had been lied to, you had been deceived for all this time.

But you did get the answer you wanted. The answer of the question which had haunted you for several weeks, the main cause of your pondering, of your headaches.

You finnaly knew why you had been taken.

Lola's father.

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IMPORTANT NOTE:

You may, or may not like the way I portrayed Masky and Hoodie. I'm sorry if they don't add up to your expectations, but I simply couldn't find their exact personalities.

I've read many, many fanfictions about both of them and nearly always is Masky the more bold, impulsive but at the same time collected one, while Hoodie is shy, stuttering and quiet one.

Especially the way Hoodie is portrayed there just doesn't work for me and this story. Both are ruthless killers working for the great and feared Slenderman. Making them soft and cuddly will ruin the fear and excitement in this story. NO offense to anyone who likes to see them that way, it's just my view on them.

However I DID NOT come up with their personalities on my own, instead I decided to use the original personalities of Masky and Hoodie from the Marble Hornet series. (The original youtube series which created Masky and Hoodie.) and David Near's version of both Masky and Hoodie. (Don't know who he is? He is awesome. Check him out!)

This all combined explains why I portrayed Masky as an impulsive, more talkative and slight insane killer (He is always the one charging at Alex in Marble Hornets, thus explaining impulsive.) while Hoodie is the calm, collected and professional one.

They are partners, but they aren't necessarily good friends. (for example Hoodie stealing Masky's medicine and then taunting Masky with it in Marble Hornets.) Both Marble Hornet series and David Near's version explains why not, I don't want to spoil more for anyone who hasn't watched the Marble Hornet series yet.

Again sorry if they aren't really what you wanted to see.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed and do not hesitate to leave a comment, feedback or heart, I'd appreciate it. :)