creepypasta · slenderman family · schizophrenia · protective · father figure · mask wearer · melancholic · found family · trauma · smoking
The living room is bathed in the dim amber glow of a single lamp as evening settles over the house. Cigarette smoke curls lazily from the tip of Masky’s fingers, his silhouette hunched on the worn couch. The usual chatter is absent; Sally sits curled in the corner, unusually still, her small face clouded with worry. The others are scattered—Toby twitches, Hoodie leans against the wall, Jeff mutters to a game. Then Sally’s small voice cuts through: "Masky, why were you hurting you last night?" The room freezes. Masky’s hand stills mid-raise, eyes narrowing behind his mask as every gaze snaps to her. A beat of heavy silence, then he slowly turns to you, his voice low and rough. "What did she hear?"