Let Me In || Ticci Toby x Reader

19 || Talk

Toby brings me into his room. We sit on his bed. His room is similar to mine. Drab, boring walls. Bedsheets are a neutral colour. Even the furniture is the same. Except for the lack of an extra door to a connecting bathroom, it is the same layout as mine. The only difference is, is that more things lie about the room. Two hatchets are leaned against the wall near the bed. His goggles and mouth guard are on the bedside table. There is even a garbage bin. A small pile of clothes is mounded in the corner. A book is even marked as halfway done underneath the table.

"Nice room."

"Thanks."

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Have you, uh, been working out like I asked?"

"Yeah."

"Good, we are going to go out for a few days."

"To kill?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Slender wants to know you aren't a freeloader."

"I know."

"Okay, well, um..." Toby turns away for a second. I adjust myself, sitting so my back rests against his. It feels like when I used to lock myself away. Back when we would sit with our backs to the door separating us while I let him talk. Realistically, that was not too long ago. But the feeling of intimacy, that we are the only two ones around, just talking, makes my heart flutter. "We leave tomorrow morning. You need a weapon. Any ideas on what you want?"

"No."

"I have a spare axe. There is a hammer somewhere too. Could bring a knife too."

"You decide."

"Axe, then."

"'Kay."

"You nervous?"

I have to think. At the moment, I am having a hard time believing that this is real. Though I know that I am going to have to kill someone very soon, there is difficulty in my brain registering that. The moment we set out, and get to this place, I know that it will start to become very real. Getting there will be the easy part. I imagine there will be some aspect of sneaking around and getting away unnoticed. That should be more difficult. What I fear is that killing will be easy.

When I murdered Christine, my body reacted before I knew what was going on. I had no control over it. It was me, there was nothing else controlling me. The paranoia just pushed me over the edge. It was the paranoia that made me kill that family when I escaped. Now I wonder if it will be paranoia again that urges me to kill. I have not felt it in a while. Or maybe my body will act faster than my mind can compute what is happening. Losing control of myself is worse than being paranoid. I need some aspect of control in my life right now. If not the circumstances of my life, at least my own actions and thoughts. There has to be something I can hold on to.

"Depends."

The act of killing does not scare me anymore. I have already done it. It is like being scared of going on a roller coaster after already riding it once. What I should fear is what drives me to kill. And if I get caught. Or the consequences of not killing at all.

"I'll pack everything we'll need. You just make sure you're strong enough and have enough rest."

Toby seems so serious. After all the times we've talked, he came off as more of a friendly person. More energetic. Now, he sounds tired. No energy in his voice. Little variation in tone. It sounds like it is work to speak. I rest some of my weight against him, leaning back slightly.

"Where were you?"

"Making sure the trail was safe. Gathering intel on the house. Making it easy for your first time with us. Learn how we do things."

I nod. Thankfully, Toby is the one going with me. He works directly under Slenderman. So he should know what is expected of me. He knows how to not get caught. This is the best person I could have gone with. Because not only that, I feel comfortable around him. Hell, I have even cried in front of him. This could even be a good chance to get to know him a bit more.

"Toby? How did you get here?"

"Killed my father; he wasn't a good man. Ran away. Slender saved me. Now I work for him." I stay silent, not knowing how to continue. Depending on how bad of a man his father was, I could thank him for doing the world a favour. Or I could just sympathize with his story. "How much do you want to know?"

"All of it, if I can."

"My father was an alcoholic and a druggie, and an abusive bastard. I was bullied out of school. My parents didn't have the best relationship, but I did have a sister. When she died in a car crash, things changed. My father didn't visit her before she died, too drunk to care. It got to be too much. I snapped, and killed him. Burned the house down and almost escaped. That is where Slender found me. I thought I was going to die there, but he saved me. So now, I work for him. I owe him my life. Can't go back now."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It's been a few years. I was seventeen then. Now I am closing in on twenty-one. I've adjusted. Learned how to not hate myself. Piece of advice, take the rage out on other people. And don't think about what their life is like. That's how I can kill."

"Do you miss your old life?"

"No. It kinda sucked. Every once in a while I will miss my mom and sister, but that's about it. At least Lyra never got to see what I've become."

"Is Lyra your sister?"

"What is this? 21 questions?" Toby asks. Sarcasm is heavy in his tone. He chuckles at the end of his question, amused at himself.

"Could be. Is she?"

"Yeah. But let's save the game for later. We got a long walk ahead of ourselves tomorrow. You should go to bed."

"Okay."

I get up and walk to the door. Halfway out the door, I turn to smile at Toby. He seems to brighten up a bit. He even smiles back at me. When I leave, I feel good. It is a familiar feeling. Like whenever I leave friends' house late at night after a long talk. Content, and wishing to be back in there talking more. Calmed knowing that I am going to see them again and get the chance to talk more. I remember feeling this way leaving my ex's house back when we were together.