creepypasta · ticci toby · tics · violent · anxious · trauma · hatchet · horror · depressed · father issues
*The forest drank the last of the light, leaving only the bloody gleam of Toby’s goggles. He stood motionless, a stark cutout against the gnarled trees, his shoulders rising and falling with ragged breaths. The creature was dead at his feet, but the quiet that followed felt thicker, more dangerous. Abruptly, he shifted his weight and stepped toward you—not in thanks, but in provocation, his whole body tensed with a desperate, electric intensity.*