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Though Sly's body ached, he had forced himself to stay up all night. Seven hours had gone by, and he was still on his laptop researching about the faceless man who was terrorizing Ramere residents, and kidnapping their children. 

Crashing his fifth can of energy drink, he threw it in the bin next to the door and continued typing. So far, the only thing he had gotten was the name Slenderman. 

I have heard of him before, he thought before grabbing another can, opening it and taking a long sip. "I thought," he burped, "he was just a horror story created on a forum to scare people." He scrolled through the Something Awful Forums where the monster originated from, and laughed. "This cannot be real." But the more he kept on reading, the more he realized that the descriptions the parents gave, and the ones he was looking at, were the same. "This cannot be real," he repeated, sounding less convinced.

He exited the webpage, and on Google's news-page, he saw the story of a teenage girl who was inspired by Slenderman's story to stab her friend. This is crazy. He clicked on the images icon and saw the creatures art. It was up to par with what most of the parents had reported him to be; faceless, wore a suit, and had octopus-like tentacles.

How is this even real? He rubbed his temples slowly, eyes closed. "How can a horror story character come to life? How is that even possible?" Opening his eyes, he returned to the main page and saw he was created in 2009. "Is a Shifter pretending to be Slenderman? Impossible though. They need to physically touch those they want to look like."

Having had enough of researching, Sly closed his laptop and leaned back on his pillow. Something about Slenderman caught his attention. While he was reading through what the creature could do, he saw it had the capabilities of controlling and erasing someone's mind. But there were side effects to the victim like blackouts and headaches.

"What if..." He bit his tongue. The possibility of him being one of the creature's victims was terrifying, but it provided a better explanation as to why he had been getting migraines, waking up with his hands covered in dirt, and having trouble remembering some of the things he had been doing in the last few days. "No," he shook his head, "it can't be."

But as a researcher, he learned how to separate facts from theories. And all the things he had been thinking were theories, nothing proven at that moment. "But what about what Daisy said? She heard on the news that someone with the same hoodie as mine was helping the monster. This is too much of a coincidence."

Fear froze his body on the bed, but he didn't want to admit what was right in front of him. "Nah," he waved the thought off, "Slenderman is not real." 

He was introduced to the world of monsters back in middle school by Joe. And after everything he had seen and researched about, the possibilities of an online story coming to life was the most shocking thing he had ever heard.

"We have work to do."

"What?" Sly got up, glancing around. "Who is there?" the voice sounded familiar, having heard it not long ago. But he couldn't remember the person it belonged to. He swung his legs to the floor, rushing out of the room and arriving in the bathroom. "Monsters can't enter my apartment. I made sure it was covered in a unicorn's horn ash," he muttered.

He stared at the bathroom mirror and a memory of a dead body flashed before his eyes. "What was that?" He quickly walked backwards, recognizing the corpse that had once lay on his tub. It was the man he had fought at the club. "Am I going insane?" he slowly walked back to the sink and washed his face.

Looking at his hands, he saw blood dripping down his fingers instead of water. "Aaah!" He jumped, before slipping on the wet floor and falling down. Wincing, he held his knee. "Something isn't right with me." He had never experienced paranoia before, but it was beginning to feel a lot like it. "I should call Joe and Daisy. Maybe they'll understand what's wrong with me."

"No, don't do that," the voice from earlier said, sounding smoother like a caring mother. "We have too much at stake."

Sly pressed his palms on his ears. "This is not real. I must be dreaming." He bobbed his head left and right, while he screamed in a high pitched noise so he couldn't hear the voice anymore.

"Stop!"

Sly obliged. "What is happening?" He looked at his arms that were by his side. "Why can't I move my hands?" 

"I told you, Sly, we have a lot of work to do. I won't allow you to go and tell your friends about me. Not yet."

"Who are you?" 

"I think you already know. It's too bad you won't remember anything after this."

"Wait, wha-" 

Sly fainted, his head leaning forward. A few seconds passed before his head rose back up and his eyes opened. He looked around, confused. 

"How did I get here?" 

He stared at the tub and felt there was something wrong, like there was an urgent issue he was supposed to remember. 

"I must have been sleepwalking again." He shrugged. "Oh, well." Looking at his watch, he gasped. "I'm late. I hope they didn't sell Bush's birthday present."