Let Me In || Ticci Toby x Reader

7 || Seen

Trusting in the proxy's words, I head outside of my room for the night. I need to walk around in fresh air outside the confines of my stuffy room. I also intend to look around for some more information and the details of who these people are. If I am expected to live amongst these people, I will at the very least have some sort of information about them.

I wander around the living room, looking at books and newspapers throughout the room. One headline catches my eye.

"FAMILY KILLED IN OWN DRIVEWAY"

It's about me, I know it. It would be too great of a coincidence if someone else had killed a family on their own property recently.

I sit down on a worn leather armchair and start to read the article on the front page. Sure enough, a family of three was described as being brutally murdered. They had died from blunt force trauma, and the murder had been linked to the crimes of Ticci Toby from forensic studies showing the murder weapon was similar to an axe. The reporter then reveals that two people may have been responsible and present at the scene of the crime, due to footprints found in the snow. However, that does raise questions for me. I know I used a different weapon to try and kill the family. What that tells me is that I did not kill the family, and whoever caught me - most likely this Ticci Toby guy -  was the one who actually killed them. Even so, it was described so horribly. I can understand that. It just makes me confront the idea that I am the reason someone is dead. And I am having a hard time coming to terms with that, and am not entirely sure I ever will accept it.

The conclusion I reach is that I should talk to the proxy about this tomorrow. Then I flip through the rest of the paper. Some businessman donated a ton of money to a local charity. Nice to see some good being done in the world. The next page is ads for real estate, then another for businesses and freelancers to show off their services. I turn another page and am faced with my own self. There is a missing poster, and directly under that is a wanted poster. Both have my face displayed. It's my latest school photo. It's not the most flattering, and my hair looks out of place, but sure enough, it gives everyone all the information they need to know about what I look like.

The missing person ad strikes a pang of sadness in my heart. My family is looking for me. They have a reward for anyone who has any information on my whereabouts. No doubt they suspect I killed my neighbour. Even so, they want me back. It makes me mourn for what I lost between my family and I. I'll never be able to see them again. Not if I want to get arrested. And now, I'm not sure if I do. I'll lose a future I've been looking forward to. My freedom will be forever tainted.

The wanted ad accuses me of killing Christine. It also bribes a reward of anyone knowing any information about me. This, I know, is why I can never return. I have been proclaimed a dangerous criminal. Rightfully so, because I am one. I need to accept my bright future is now lost, not placed out of reach, but destroyed for eternity.

I throw the newspaper across the room, and it flops against the wall before fluttering down and creating a mess of papers. Tears start to come to my eyes. For the first time since I came here, I start to cry. I would have thought the fear I felt and the worthlessness that was eating at me would have done that. No, instead I cry out of pity for myself, and for my family. I've lost everything I cared for. And my family lost their daughter. Yet they still care, even if they know I am a killer, they still want me. It burns me and causes physical pain in my chest. I clutch my shirt tightly and let out a sob.

I stand up eventually and try to walk around again. My legs shake and threaten to collapse under me. My entire body feels weak and worn out. A slight pressure starts to build up inside of my head. I should eat something, maybe even have a bath. My hair is pretty greasy, and I haven't actually cleaned myself in so long. Perhaps I could drown out my sorrows.

I will my body to walk and go to the kitchen. And while looking around I hear some faint noises. Sounds like footsteps, getting closer and closer. I realize what's going on.

"Ben, no!" I hear the proxy shout through the night. In the blink of an eye, I see two people fall into the doorway. One is a child with blond hair, the other is a rather beautiful man with brown hair.

The man is on top of the child, covering the child's eyes with their hand. I see their eyes are closed as well.

Panicking, I run through another doorway connecting the kitchen to the dining room. I almost trip myself sprinting up the stairs. When I get to my room I slam the door and push the bedside table in front of the door.

Again, I find refuge and solace curling up in my closet. My heart pounds inside of my ribs like a startled bird rattling around its cage. The air in my lungs starts to regulate itself again as I come down off my adrenaline high. I push my head against the wall of my closet and listen to the commotion below me. From the vents, I am able to hear the voices of everyone fairly well.

"Ben! What the hell did you think you were doing?!" The proxy yells and scolds the young boy.

"I wanted to see her. Can you blame me?" Ben retorts. I clench my fist in anger. Damn him, that stupid boy.

"Yes! You screwed up everything! Her face is in the fucking newspapers! Look at those! Or stalk her social media for all I care! You had no reason to do that!" The proxy continues chewing out Ben. Few pauses break up his sentences to allow a few verbal tics. And I feel a little good about how the proxy defends me. Although the proxy has betrayed my trust in a way, I know it wasn't intentional.

"What is all the commotion about?" A masculine voice joins the conversations. He sounds groggy, and a little frustrated. I do recognize the voice. He hasn't spoken to me often, usually just to check up on how I'm doing. How many people woke up from everything that just happened?

"Ben tried to look at (Y/n)!"

It's odd hearing my name from his mouth. Since I came here, I have never heard it. To be completely honest, the last time I heard my name was my parents wishing me a good night....

"Wait until Slender hears," the other male says. That name sends a shiver down my spine. Ben does not respond to that.

"Should I tell him?" The proxy asks.

"I would. It's his house, he needs to know what goes on. Plus it's about time Ben gets what's coming for him. I'm going back to bed."

I hear them all go silent. And they stay that way. I don't even hear them move around.

I get a little bit of peace at this time. The night surrounds me, and I welcome the darkness, letting it cover all the monsters I can see in daylight. I let the shadows serve as a cover and comfort for me.

I find myself thinking about two of the residents I saw. In that moment I could barely think, my brain only telling my body to move and move as fast as it can.

The one was a child. He looks oddly familiar. His eyes and ears were the most distinct features, pointed ears like an elf and unnaturally coloured eyes, and not just the iris, but the sclera as well. It's like he tried to dress up as some character, almost imitating Link from those Zelda games except for those demonic eyes.

The proxy, however, is a different story altogether. A normal-looking man. A few of his movements were jerky but other than that he had plain hair, eyes, and a plain face except for a scar on his cheek. His skin looked kind of pale, but I blame that on the lighting. But that plain appearance is like a fresh drink of water. From all the crazy stuff going on in here, a change of pace with something normal is more than welcome. The proxy is, as well, pretty darn attractive. For a murderer, that is.

I let my thoughts run wild, letting myself tire and start to fall asleep. I pull a blanket around me and huddle in a corner. As I drift away into a peaceful dreamland, I hear faint footsteps down the hall. The last thing I see is a piece of paper being slipped under the door.