The Slender Man (9 page)

“We were hoping she'd run away, and come here,” explains Mr.
Hawthorn.

“She's missing?” I ask. He nods.

All inside of a second, I feel a lump in my throat, my
stomach gets heavy, and my heart begins pounding like a fist. I was right. I'd
been right all along. Something bad was about to happen. Something bad did
happen to Shana. Only when it did, I was worrying about Adam. Not once had it
crossed my mind that the nightmare meant something was wrong with Shana. Maybe
it's because the nightmare took place here that I assumed the fiend was after
me or Adam.

I feel a hand touch my shoulder and look to see Bubbe
standing beside me.

“Please, Alyssa. Did Shana say anything to you last night?
You were the last person to have really spoken to her,” asks Mrs. Hawthorn. I'm
still not ready to answer. I'm not sure what to say. Shana's missing, like the
other kids. Jason said he was going to help Kenny right after he saw the fiend,
and then disappeared. That might have happened to the other missing students
too. Shana saw Denise though, but instead of trying to help Denise, she stayed
home, and wanted me to stay with her.

“She wanted me to stay,” I finally say. “She, she didn't
feel safe at home and wanted me to stay. She begged me.” I'm saying this aloud
for them to hear, but it sounds like I'm accusing myself.

“I've just phoned the police. They're on their way,” says
Dad, who I didn't realize had left the room. I need to sit down, but I can't
command my feet to move over to a chair, so I plop down onto the floor right
where I am. My head hurts, and as I look around the room I can see I'm not the
only one in pain. The Hawthorn's have already lost their youngest daughter, and
they have only a shred of hope that they haven’t permanently lost their first
born daughter as well. As yet they have no reason to believe she's dead, but I
know that she won't be found wandering the streets. I have to tell the police
what Shana told me about Denise and
him
.

It's the only way I can help her, because even I don't have
any clues as to how to help her any other way. She said that Denise wanted her
to go help her in the forest, and that the
man
wanted her to sleep. Does
going to sleep enable him to attack you? Does he put you in a trance and make
you walk to him, or does he just whisk you away? I felt something trying to
force me to go to sleep last night, but neither of those things happened, so
what does it mean? Was the fit I had related to Shana's disappearance?

I sit here, thinking about what I could have done to prevent
this. Maybe if I’d fought harder and stayed awake, Shana would be okay. Or
maybe if I found a way to convince my Dad to let me stay she would be here now.
If I hadn't turned in those essays I'd probably have been allowed to stay with
Shana. I can't keep looking backwards though.

When I hear the knock on the door that can only mean the
police are here I realize that the only thing I can do is try and help find her.
I'm surprised to see that the sheriff personally came, and is accompanied by
Deputy Yew, who looks utterly forlorn. He's stressed too. It's probably because
he's been dealing with the other missing students, and now there is another one
for him to find.

The sheriff begins by questioning the Hawthorn parents, and
when they can't give him any information that might help, he comes to me. He
doesn't have to say anything.

“When we visited on Thursday, she said she was seeing
things. She said she was seeing her sister,” I start.

“Like how you said Jason was looking for Kenny?” asks Deputy
Yew from the corner. I nod, and continue on to explain how she said Denise
wanted her help too, and that she couldn't go to sleep without seeing Denise. I
tell them everything I can recall, including how Shana was refusing to fall
asleep because she was afraid that
he
would get her. I almost sound
crazy myself telling them this, but when I explain how Denise kept telling
Shana to go to the woods, they finally look like I've given them a shred of
decent information, other than the fact that Shana needed psychiatric help.

“So if Shana gave in and tried to help her sister, her
destination would be some point in the forest?” asks Sheriff Fraser, writing
this down. I leave out the parts about how the apparition has also affected me
and Adam, and how I suspect this is not as easy as Shana running into the
woods.

“I think we need to issue a search party then. We can scan
the entire forest,” says the sheriff.

“If Shana went into the woods, there's a chance we might
find the others too,” he continues.

I look over his shoulder and see Mr. Hawthorn holding his
wife, who's crying helplessly. “If we had known this, we'd have gotten her help
immediately,” he says. I don't believe that. If he really carried more about
Shana's well-being than the shivah tradition, he'd have gotten her some help
while she was catatonic, not wait until she disappeared.

I listen to myself. I listen to how hateful I sound. Being
angry with her parents won't bring her back, but what will? Is there a chance
that she really will be found in the woods along with the others? All I know is
that there's a chance that this wouldn't have happened if I'd stayed with her
in the first place. I keep thinking about the courses of action I could have
taken to prevent being grounded: words I could have spoken; friendly gestures;
not turning in the essays. It all leads to those essays. I feel a hand on my
shoulder.

“We'll find your friend,” says Deputy Yew. He's looking down
at me with pity in his eyes. “Even if I have to do it myself,” he adds. I'm
surprised that he came to console me rather than her parents.

“We'll get to the bottom of this,” throws in Sheriff Fraser.

“Alyssa,” he says. I look at him.

“If anyone and I mean
anyone
, shows any signs of
Shana's or Jason's behavior, you let us know immediately. I'm not sure what's
going on, or why everyone's seeing things, but it all ties in with them going
missing, and we can't have another disappearance on our hands,” he explains.

I hesitate for a moment, trying to think of anyone that
would confide in me about seeing the fiend, but even Jason only told me by
chance.

“Will do,” I say. The policemen take their leave, and I
slump back down into the corner. I keep telling myself there's a chance they'll
find her, but something inside tells me that's not going to happen. I've lost
Shana, and I have no idea how to get her back. As the thought settles in, I
feel heavy, and weak. I lay my head on my knees, mimicking the last position I
saw Shana in, and feel her emptiness. I feel her sorrow, and I start to cry.
It's all I can do. It's all I want to do. I'm sitting here like this for what
seems like an eternity, before I feel another hand touch me. I look up and see
the one person in the house who would try and comfort me in a time like this,
Bubbe. My parents are with the Hawthorns and Adam is sick and in bed, but Bubbe
sits down right beside me, arm around my neck. I smile and lean into her, like
I would with Shana.

“Oh dear,” she says. I look up and see her handing me a
small hand towel. I first think it's because I’m crying, but as drops flow down
the side of my lip I taste them, and I don’t taste tears. I taste blood.

I feel less than human. I'm not sure if it's my emotions, or
it's because of this new illness I've acquired. It's probably a combination of
both. I'm walking into school, and every one of my limbs feels weighted. In my
left hand I'm carrying a tissue to blot nosebleeds. My throat and nostrils both
feel very dry, and my skin has paled from it. On the inside even my heart feels
heavy with guilt, worry, and sadness. My actions are a factor in Shana's
disappearance, and now that she's missing I can’t stop thinking about her. All
things considered, I feel like- like I'm dying. The medicine I’m taking doesn’t
work.

I’m thirsty no matter how much water I drink. It helps when
I'm drinking it, but as soon as I swallow, the dryness returns. I feel like
I've lost a pint of blood already. Nothing stops the nosebleeds that occur on
and off several times per day. I can go a whole day without bleeding, and then
have it run all night, and vice versa.

The police searched all Sunday for Shana. I remember seeing
very many police cars, probably the whole force. I heard dogs barking, but the
weeping of the Hawthorns, accompanied by my own, are what rings in my ears the
most. They covered miles of woods- or so I'm told, yet Shana is nowhere to be
found. The police finally began working with the press and are now hiring volunteer
search parties to help cover more ground.

I can't believe my parents expect me to go to school like
this. I feel worse than I've ever felt, and they haven’t made Adam return to
school, though of course his surgery is probably more of an excuse for
prolonged absence. I was even expected to finish my homework, but every time I
look at words on a piece of paper, my head throbs. It's not a headache, it's
just- it's not the right time to be worrying about grades, even if I've fallen
down to a C average. I worked on my homework, but I couldn't concentrate on the
book well enough to find answers to the questions. I at least found the
strength to Google the answers to the questions online. I know especially
through recent events that cheating shouldn't even pop into my mind, but with
everything going on it's the only way I'll get my work done. Plus-is it really
cheating if I would have been looking up the answers in my book anyway? I
consider Google more of a shortcut than a cheat.

As I walk into the school, I look around at everyone, but
all of their faces seem blank to me. The only face I want to see is Shana's,
and I'm worried that's a face I'll never see again. I slowly walk into English
class, and catch a sympathetic look from Ms. Alder. I don't respect her
sympathy. It may have been me that turned in those essays, but it's her that
reported them. Because of that, I wasn't able to stay with Shana, and now she's
missing. If she really sympathized with me, she wouldn't have reported me, or
at least would have given me another week to do the essays on my own.

I sit at my desk and wait the few minutes for the bell to
ring. I'm surprised when it does, because there are more than a couple of empty
seats. One of course is Shana's, and another is Jason's, but it seems like
someone else is missing, but with my mind almost shut down with worry, I can't
name them. It's not like I know more than a few people in the class anyway.

Ms. Alder begins by having us open our literature books.
Great, something I'll have to pay attention to. I am not the best at grammar,
but so much of each lesson is redundant, and there are really only a few
different grammar rules you learn in each one, like comma splicing. With
literature I have to actually learn about poetry, or read stories. Those are
subjects I won't be able to follow. I open the literature book and am reminded
about our multicultural phase. I see words like “Haiku” and my mind just goes
blank.

Ms. Alder always begins her lesson with her same monotonous
teaching style. Sometimes I only get my cue to turn the page when the rest of
the class does it. Other times I will glance over and see that my page looks
completely different from another student’s and quickly- but discreetly turn
the page to match. I know Ms. Alder is probably keeping an eye on me and I
don't want her telling my father that I'm not paying attention. I see drops of
blood fall onto the pages and hold the tissue up to my nose. I accidentally
inhale some of the fibers through my nose and they irritate my already dry and
sensitive nostrils. I sneeze, and what looks like a full ounce of blood
splatters onto not only the tissue, but all over my hand, and even more on the
book. Of course Ms. Alder notices this.

“Oh Alyssa, go to the nurse immediately,” she says.

“It's the same thing everyone else-”

“No, just go see the nurse. She might have something for
you,” she says.

I sigh and slam my book closed, hoping the blood seeps into
more pages. It's not my book, and I'm not the one who paid for it. She can lock
this one up in that cluttered closet when I finish the school year- assuming I
pass the grade. I walk out of the class, bloody tissue still in hand, and head
down to the nurses office. There's nothing the nurse can give me that will work
I'm just sick, and if I end up taking too many medications it will probably
just put me in a worse condition.

I march down to the nurse's office, or at least I originally
intend to, but come to think of it I've never been there, and I don't even know
where it is. I walk almost aimlessly around the school's lobby trying to jar my
brain to figure out where I might have seen it. I finally decide to head down
toward the entrance near the offices when I see a sign that says “Nurse” and an
arrow below it pointing into the hall. Now I recognize the place. The hall is
actually just a corridor that leads to a shared sitting area for both the
school nurse and the school counselor. The counselor has been justifiably
absent this week, but I'm surprised that they haven't hired a substitute for
her.

In the sitting area I see four students. Two of the students
look just like me, another looks like he might be struggling with asthma, and
the fourth looks just fine; he’s probably just shamming. I decide that since I
already know that the nurse can't do much about my nosebleed anyway, I'll just
go patch it up myself. I leave the hall before anyone takes more than one good
look at me and head down toward the restrooms. I get inside and can almost
forgive Ms. Alder's adamancy. Blood is all over my hand and the lower part of
my face. You'd think I have a raging case of hemophilia combined with a broken
nose or something.

I think my body is reacting to the illness worse than the
others. That makes sense given my poor immune system. I'm surprised it has
taken me this long to catch it. I throw the soaked tissue away and begin
rinsing my face with water. I watch as the blood dyes the water falling off my
face. Once the water disappears down the drain, the sink shows only small signs
of blood, I take a paper towel and plug my nose with it facing the ceiling.
This usually hasn't worked for these nosebleeds so I guess I'm just doing this
to feel like I'm doing something to combat the nosebleed at all. I feel a
little bit of blood drain down the back of my throat and have to force myself
to not cough and get blood all over the bathroom.

I hear the door open. I don't like the idea of people
watching me handling a nosebleed or runny nose- or well, anything to do with my
nose. Since tilting my head back isn’t helping anyway, I decide I might as well
go ahead and use the bathroom. I walk into the stall as the other person enters
the restroom. I hear that the other person is in fact
two
people and
they're talking to each other. I recognize the first voice as Lindsay Willow.

“...Yeah I was tardy today too. Mom wanted to work on my
teeth. It's getting on my nerves because you're really only supposed to see the
dentist like twice a year, but I already got my first check-up two months ago, and
this is my second time. I think she's just bored 'cause she doesn't have many
clients,” she says.

 “Yeah well my Mom didn't even want me to come today. You
know another girl went missing? Well she says all of the missing people went
crazy before disappearing, and she thinks I'm going crazy,” says the other
girl. I don't recognize her voice.

“Why would she think that?” asks Lindsay.

“Well I've been seeing things. Like I keep seeing this
shadow out of the corner of my eye, and I keep having these real vivid
nightmares about not being able to move and stuff like that. Hell, even I think
I'm going crazy,” laughs the girl. This is no laughing matter though.

 I finish and leave the stall quickly.

“Do you see the static- the shadow in your nightmares?” I
ask. Lindsay looks at me with a surprised look in her eye. Lindsay is Jason's
age but she's in the grade above me. She has long black hair with blue streaks
in it, and a small amount of bluish eyeliner around her blue eyes. You can tell
her favorite color is blue. The other girl has a similar style except her hair
is short and with orange streaks, and with her tan complexion looks like she's
Filipino or Hawaiian. She's giving me a surprised look as well, as if I've
startled her, but that surprise glides into a glare.

 Lindsay speaks first. “You've got a little uh,” she says,
scratching under her nose. Oh right, my nosebleed.

“It's rude to listen into other people's conversations you
know?” says the island girl. Great, instead of openly discussing it she just resorts
to some snobby etiquette defense-mechanism. I roll my eyes and hold the tissue
up to my nose.

“You want to bleed more?” she tests.

I look her in the eye. I'm not much of a fighter, especially
now that I am sickened, but I would love to take my anger out on someone like
her, and she's my size anyway
without
looking physically fit. I can take
her. She and I stare each other down like a pair of angry dogs for a full ten
seconds before Lindsay pulls on her arm. The girl gives me one more size-up
before turning and following Lindsay from the restroom. As I wash my hands and
try futilely to stem the blood flow, I hear a message over the intercom.

“Attention, at the end of this period, we need all students
to be present in the auditorium. This is mandatory. Thank you,” says Dad's
voice. They’re calling for a mandatory school assembly?
The only time
that happens is during graduation ceremonies, talent shows, plays, and things
like that. This must have something to do with the missing students, or
him
?

No, even if the apparition is common news by now there would
be no way it's discussed in public. Even people who have it would call the
speaker crazy. I look at the clock on my phone. This period ends in three
minutes. I decide I'll go ahead and walk to the auditorium since my class will
already be heading there by the time I get back. When I get there I'm surprised
that the place is already half filled. Some of the classes have already taken
their seats and I even notice a couple pairs of parents. Maybe Dad spent the
day summoning parents for this meeting. I see Ms. Alder has already started
seating her students so I find myself a chair with the rest of my class. The
seats are all blue folding chairs that aren't very comfortable, but I think
they're in use for their mobility, because the auditorium is the room used for
dances and parties. It's not long after I'm seated that the auditorium is full
of students and staff. We end up waiting a few minutes before the guest
speakers take their posts on stage.  The speakers- are the police.

Several policemen including Deputy Yew and of course Sheriff
Fraser take their places on stage. Deputy Yew stands uniformly with the other
police, while the sheriff takes the stand.

“In all my time as sheriff this county has never seen much
crime,” he begins.

“The worst we've seen are a few cases of theft, and once,
and only once, a murder that was promptly solved. So it fills me with deep
regret to see that when tragedy strikes this county our police force seems to
have no leads,” he continues. He pauses before a brief moment, as if to collect
his thoughts on how he's going to continue.

“Recently we lost more than ten of our dear children in a
very tragic accident, and since then more of our children have disappeared,” he
says. There are no gasps of surprise from the audience. “We've been working on
finding the missing children with no luck. Seven children have been reported
missing since the accident. All of these children are affiliated with this
school. I'm going to go over the list and if you've seen any of these children
recently, please notify the police.”

He begins to recite his list of students. He starts with
Jason Larch and then moves onto the other students I haven't met.

“Shana Hawthorn...,” he says, forcing me to wince. “...and
most recently, Leanne Sourwood,” he finishes. My eyes widen. Leanne is the
other person I didn't see in class today. She must have gone missing over the
weekend like Shana did. That means three of the missing children I know
personally.

“Like I said we've narrowed the search down, and it seems
they are all students in this school district. So we-”

“Have you found any suspects?” asks a voice. Sheriff Fraser
looks around the audience to locate the voice, but I already know who it is
before she stands up, Rita Larch. “Who are your suspects?” she repeats loudly.
I use my hand- that's already working on stopping my nosebleed, to cover my
face as I look down.

“Here she goes...”

 “Well we've gathered some volunteers and our fine policemen
are undergoing a thorough search of the surrounding forests,” he says.

“Well what about Mario's house? Isn't he the number one
suspect? Have you searched his house? Why are you searching the woods if you
haven't searched through his house?” she banters.