Cynthia is as good as Balthazar when it comes to Slender-detection.
Apparently "Daddy's Here. And he wants to play with us."
Reach and I are scouring the area outside our windows and hallway but I'll be fucked if we can actually see the bastard.
And it's not Redlight driving those people to kill themselves as a message to me.
Which begs a question that we need answered.
Come ON you coward. Tell me who you are.
OH HAI THAR TENTACLE. I DIDN'T SEE YOU THERE.
Urgh. Of course I'm scared. I'm always scared, I'm like a rabbit in the headlights every damn day and I swear my heartrate is so fast I could rival a mouse. I'm stressed and nauseous and fretful but that's what happens when you're Slenderstalked I guess. The only reason I seem calm and collected is because in the internet has a backspace button.
And we need to figure out a manner in which to get Robert out before Sunday's Frontal Lobotomy. Either Reach and I or some of YOU.
Spender. I don't like you in the slightest, but I don't think Catherine Shaunessy's number would go amiss right now.
I think my moral compass is so thoroughly de-magnetised that I may be saying four words that I loathe soon enough, just so I can know.....