How do I put this? How do I distill the last few days into a vaguely-intelligent post? Have to start somewhere, I guess.
So after I made that freak-out post on the 13th, I went to speak to Mom. I didn't know what would happen, so I recorded the conversation on my phone. It went like this -
Me: Mom, I need to talk to you. I found these. *paper rustling, I showed Mom the pictures*
Mom: *doesn't say anything, but I remember her eyes got HUGE*
Me: I know what they mean. I know that...thing's been watching you. I saw him.
Mom: You...saw him? How?
Me: I saw him outside today. He was looking at your window. I know about him. He's real, and a lot of other people have seen him too. You're not alone in all this, Mom.
Mom: Stop talking about it. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to hear about it, I thought if I just stopped thinking about it he'd go away but he's been there, he's been there all this time, he won't go away, no one else has ever seen him!
She kept on like this for a while, though I tried to calm her down. After a while, she seemed to be a little more stable, so I tried talking to her again.
Me: Mom, I need to know. What do these mean? Who's that other person in the drawing? The one coming towards Slender Man?
Mom: What did you call him?
Me: Slender Man. That's his name. Well, the name everyone else calls him. What do you call him?
Mom: The Tall Man.
Me: I think you read too much Lovecraft, Mom. *dry laugh* I'm sorry, that...that was rude. I'm just trying to keep my sense of humor. So...so who is this other person?
Mom: *silence for a long time* My...my brother.
Me: Your...brother? The one who died when you were a kid?
Mom: ...Yes. He took him. He took him and I couldn't stop him and it was all my fault. I wouldn't go to him so he took my little brother...oh God, he was only six years old...and it was my fault...
At this point, Dad came in, and I hurriedly turned my phone off. He was...angry. Started yelling at Mom, demanding to know what kind of crazy stuff she was telling me. I told him to calm down, but he wouldn't listen. I yelled at him, and he slapped me.
My dad has never, EVER hit me. NEVER. And he didn't even look at me, just kept staring at Mom and shouting. She just cowered on her bed while he got angrier. I tried to pull him away, and that's when I noticed something.
His eyes...they looked...dead. There was nothing there. It was...Oh God...
I don't remember what happened after that. I woke up to find myself in my room. My door was locked, and my dresser was pulled in front of it. My window was open, so I could see outside.
And he was there.
And he was staring at me.
I...I can't write more. I'll tell you guys what happened later.