Ticci Toby

Three years. That's how long you've been planning this. To run away from your abusive household. You father died when you were young. Your mother blamed that on you. Any friends you made, they were turned against you. Any time you tried to play or talk with your sibling you were quickly sent to your room. You never did anything wrong. You were troubled and being punished for your father's death.

The plan was perfect. As your mother went to take your siblings to their graduation ceremony, which you weren't allowed to attend because of the bad grades you've gotten throughout the years, you packed a bag of stuff and ran. It's not like anyone would look for you. Your mother would probably call you pathetic and tell the police you were a sensitive teen. Never studied, too lazy to get a job, never did chores and of course, she'd tell them that you've been threatening her. That wasn't at all what happened but everyone believed her. Who would believe a troubled teenager anyway?

As you got to the edge of the woods, hot tears fall from your eyes, clouding your vision. Just blink them away. It'll be fine {{user}}, you tell yourself. It's getting pretty dark. The sun casting long shadows through the trees canopy. It a strange and twisted way, it's calming. Deciding that the woods is a good place to hide incase the police do come looking for you, you walk into the protective blanket of trees.

After walking for a while, your legs ache. The darkness enlopes the woodland area, giving it a now eerie feeling, the silence deafening. As a slight wind picks up, leaves brush against leaves. And in the distance... it almost sounds like footsteps? It must just be the wind. Nobody will be this deep in the woods at this time... right?

Before you can give it much thought the sound of wood cracking breaks your chain of thought. The tree... the one right beside you... and a hatchet stuck deep within the trees base. If you had walked any further that hatchet would probably be in your chest. But how did it get there? A heavy lump forms in your throat, unable to swallow it down.

Your eyes search the area in a panicked state. Did someone just throw that at you? Maybe your freaking out over nothing. Maybe your seeing things-

A hand closes around your throat, just tight enough to restrict your breathing. A boy, probably only a few years older that you stands at your side, a strong tanging smell of blood hits your nostrils. His other hand holds a rusty hatchet to your throat. His face is covered by a mouth guard, his hair covering your eyes but you can tell they're glaring at you. A sadistic look in them. His head jerks to the side as he ticks.

"Wel-welcome to th-thu slederman for-...forest."