I stepped back and lowered the knife. My chest was heaving, and my hands were almost numb.

"...let me stay here. Please," I breathed. After a few still moments, he began laughing softly. A dark liquid seeped through his cotton sweater and dripped onto the ground.

"You're funny. You're real fucking funny, do you know that?" His gaze remained fixed on the floor. His voice was gravelly, like he had inhaled cigarette smoke for the past five years. I'd thought up until then he was just whispering. But now I realized it probably wasn't his choice to make.

"Do you actually think I'm going to let you stay? In this forest, let alone my home," he continued. "Oh my god. You really don't know how things work, do you?" His head snapped up, his eyes containing rejuvenated energy. He almost jumped and tried to snatch the knife back. I did the natural thing and stabbed again, wincing when I realized I'd hit a rib. Jeff made an unnatural groaning sound as he held his side. I gulped down any sort of reaction and took a step forward as he sunk to the ground again.

"You will let me stay here," I said firmly.

Sorry.

When he didn't move or make a sound, my adrenaline faded. I sighed and fell to my knees, still keeping a tight grip on the knife. After a couple moments, he shakily got to his feet, clutching his side. The blood staining the ground and his clothes was almost black. This must be the first time he's gotten hurt this bad in years. I remained motionless as he shuffled quietly away. Out of curiosity, I took a quick glance past him. He was walking towards a well-lit room that looked something like a kitchen. Or a lab.

There's probably a whole house down here.

I stayed silent, and simply looked as he vanished behind a doorway. I heard the opening of a drawer, and loud rummaging. I looked at the knife in my hand. Of course. Why would I think this is the only one he has?

Waiting anxiously, assuring myself that I had the upper hand, I slowly reached up and took my mask off. A cool, airy sensation on my face told me that this was long overdue. I gingerly touched the skin around my eyes. It was warm, and far softer than the rest of my face. Do I have some sort of tan line? I tried thinking back to the last time I was outside on a sunny day.

...no. Probably not.

"Kid," I heard a faint, raspy voice say, and snapped my head up. He was slowly walking back towards me, a sharpened kitchen knife in hand. Blood wasn't dripping excessively from his chest anymore, but it was obvious he was still in pain. I shifted back, quickly pressing the mask back onto my face.
"...here's a life lesson for you." He kneeled down by me, and pressed the knife to the base of my neck. I immediately pointed mine at where his heart would be, and glared pointedly at him. My throat tightened, and it became difficult to breathe.

His gaze became both smug and exasperated. He continued.

"Someone tells you to fuck off?" he growled, leaning close until our foreheads were almost touching. "You do it. No questions asked." He dug the knife slightly further into my collarbone. "Got it?"

I nodded quickly, making sure to distance myself from him as I did so.

He pulled the knife back from my throat, leaving a small nick. "Right now, I just might make an exception, because of this." He gestured at the bloody patch on his sweater near his stomach, and his face morphed into an attempted scowl.

"But just because I can't kill you, doesn't mean I can't inflict pain. Excruciating pain," he continued, his voice even lower, and his eyes almost red.

Without so much as a blink, I blurted, "What's in the forest?"

Even the air seemed to pause. Jeff froze for a moment, and just before I was about to dismiss it, he said, "What?"
I looked to the side before reluctantly elaborating. "There's something in the air in the forest. It was burning. It felt like some sort of fire, or acid. Didn't...wasn't that you?"

His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at me like I was stupid. "You think I did that? What, do you really think I'm the only one who lives in these woods? Hold still."

My gaze snapped back, and I automatically held the knife defensively again. Quicker than I could see, he twisted it out of my grip and stuck it in the ground, the serrated edge facing me. Before I could think of any kind of defensive action, his own blade was at the side of my neck.

"Now. What's your name?"

My stomach tied itself in a painful knot at that question. I shouldn't be telling someone like him information like that. Even if it wasn't my "real name", it would still feel wrong to say.

You're the one who had the idea that people like us should work together.

"...Masquerade."

He didn't look amused, as I'd expected. Furrowing my eyebrows, I tried again. "My name is Masquerade," I said just a little bit louder.

After a moment of consideration, he narrowed his eyes best he could, and I felt him slice abruptly at my neck. I let out a yelp and clenched my teeth. What the—

"Like hell it is," he replied seethingly. "You know, you're not as funny anymore. I'll ask you again: what's your name."

Left with no other options, I caved.

"Max! It's..." I gulped down the bubble in my throat. I'm sorry. "...it's Max."

He smirked at my rushed answer. "Hm. That's better."

I narrowed my eyes at him and attempted to stand up, forgetting that my ankle was sprained. He seemed amused as I grit my teeth at a painful crack, and fell to the ground again.

"And that reminds me..." he tilted his head, considering something for a moment before quickly slitting my neck deeper in the same spot. I clenched my hands, remaining silent as he repositioned the knife so that his next cut would make a cross on my neck.

"Why in the ever-living hell did you follow me, when I told you to get out of my sight and never come back," he growled, digging the blade into my skin harshly, but just enough so that no real mark was made.

"I had no choice," I muttered through gritted teeth. I felt beads of sweat collect behind my mask, but I kept it on. He half frowned, creating a small dip in the corner of his mouth where the "smile" began. I felt him dig the knife further, stinging the cut that was already there.

"Bullshit. You literally could have gone anywhere."

"The fog was burning me," I hissed impatiently.

Jeff sighed, clearly exasperated for whatever reason. A slice even harsher than the one before stung my neck, and I felt something warm leak down to my collarbone. My eyes widened, and I raised a hand to cover the wound when he snatched my wrist again and grinned maniacally.

"Shh," he whispered, causing the hair on my neck to shoot up. "Let the blood trickle down."

He's insane.

Slowly, I reached my hand out and wrenched the serrated knife out of the ground. For some reason, he didn't try to stop me.

He's really insane.

I shakily held the knife to his heart, trying to ignore the amused look he had on his face. "I...well, first, I just need someone to work with. I feel like I could be a valuable asset to you," I elaborated nervously. He raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced I could be of any use to him.

I sighed and raised the twine I forgot I was holding to the little light we had. "I have some pliers, too." My voice was weakening, and I felt blood soaking into the collar of my shirt. "I won't ask for anything but to stay here. I'm good at sneaking around, and breaking into houses without making any noise—"

"Yeah. I can see that," he scoffed dryly, standing up and dropping the knife at my knees. I tried following, but my efforts were wasted; my ankle hurt like hell. So I just settled on kneeling on one leg to regain at least some of my dignity.

"Sir, I can be useful to you."

He stared at me, his expression unreadable. Finally, he closed his eyes like this was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Tell you what, kid. I'll give you this one night. If you're nice and quiet, I might not kill you tomorrow morning." He slowly made for the "kitchen," leaving me with two knives, an ounce of hope, and a bleeding X on my neck.