[MASQ]

Jeff looked so surprised. As if this was the first person he'd ever met who didn't know his "story," whatever that was. Somehow, I was convinced for a second that he was actually going to explain himself to me, but he simply said, "I'll find the time to let you prove yourself," and walked away into a dark tunnel off the side of the hall. I folded my hands and closed my eyes, letting out a huge breath I didn't know I was holding.

This is it.

This is my home for now.

I tried to drive all the conflicting thoughts out of my head, but to no avail. They were all screaming at me, saying that this could never be home. That I was looking for an excuse to stop looking for them. I was driving myself crazy, wondering if this was rationalizing or whether I was actually thinking straight for the first time in a while. I hadn't been stationary like this for five years; didn't I deserve a break?

I hunched my shoulders and played frantically with a lock of hair as I tried to relax for once. It didn't feel right. I was convinced that once he'd gotten back, Jeff was going to kill me. Or at least try. But he just talked with me for a little and then left. Is he scared of me?

Just for a little bit, I held the thought in my mind.

Of course not. Why would he be?

But then why hasn't he gotten rid of me? Did I really make that good of an argument?

I stood up and looked around. If this would be where I was staying, I might as well have gotten used to it. There was, obviously, the "kitchen" to my left. It was the brightest place in this entire hideout, unless further down in wherever Hodek had gone was even more so. I spied a small coat rack near the space underneath the trapdoor, where he'd hung his bandana. If I needed to fend him off at any point in the case where he decided he needed to get rid of me, that would do in a pinch.

I continued to ground myself in Hodek's world, and felt a little more at ease with the situation. This was shared territory now. Maybe this would be the place to regain my humanity, as ironic as it seemed. It was just that killing made me feel so dirty, and selfish.

So then what do I do now? Do I just rest? What if something happens?

All these questions I never had the time to ask myself before were hurting my head. So I went to the kitchen to see if there was anything edible for me here.

The fridge was a solid no. Everything in there was absolutely disgusting. I guessed he hadn't stocked it in a while, and sincerely hoped that this wasn't all he ate. Fortunately, the cabinets were stocked with some bare essentials of cooking; flour, salt, oats, a half used stick of butter, and some other things that I didn't recognize. How to make oatmeal was almost beyond my grasp, but I managed just fine with what little memory I had and a bit of guesswork. All the appliances worked okay, so I was able to make myself a filling (if not completely bland) meal that would keep me from death just a few days longer. I'd had plenty of experience under a trapdoor, strange as that was. I made a checklist in my mind to find a nearby pharmacy if I ever managed to get out of here for a night and get a drop-bottle of vitamin D. Especially since we're in the middle of a forest. Leaves can block out too much of the sun.

I spent three more consecutive days inside that underground house, pacing around, talking to myself, occasionally seeing Jeff step out of what must have been his room to sharpen a knife or throw me an irritated glance. He was still limping, though it was getting better by the day. He seemed to know how to take care of himself surprisingly well. I made a small area near the wall for myself, with a little desk to place my pliers and twine when I didn't need them and a thin sheet to separate myself from the dirty floor. I always slept with my weapons, though. It was too risky not to.

One night, while I wasn't necessarily tired but still was trying to sleep, I felt Hodek knock on my head lightly with the hilt of a knife.

"Hey. Mask-boy. Wake up."

"I am awake."

"Good. We're going out."

I blinked. "What? Why?"

"Why do you think. Get your pliers, grab a knife, whatever works best. I'll get to the end of the woods, and then we'll see what you've got."

I yawned and stood up with a twinge of annoyance. You'd think keeping him inside for days from two stab wounds would have proved something. I patted myself down in some attempt to find my things, but no dice. I went into a brief panic before realizing they were just on a small night table to my right. It seemed Jeff didn't want me to be armed and ready in case he needed to quickly get rid of me, for whatever reason.

With that guess in mind, I narrowed my eyes and snatched my pliers and twine off the table. I looked to the kitchen, unsure if I should also grab one of his knives as well. If I pulled it out of nowhere on our first night out, it might feel inconsiderate or like a betrayal of trust. Then again, if he didn't want me to touch his stuff, wouldn't he say so?

I thought about it for a bit, and settled for the tiniest blade I could find in the surprisingly packed drawer. I was almost certain I'd pricked my finger somewhere, but it didn't make any difference to me.

When I climbed up and out, I first noticed that Jeff had stayed true to his word. I couldn't spot him anywhere and I decided against calling out for him. I just walked in the direction I was sure he was talking about until I saw a distinct silhouette leaning against a tree, looking bored.

"Found your way alright?" I asked. He barely acknowledged me, only started forward and onto the shadowed street. When I caught up, he'd already stopped at a house and was looking up at the second floor window, where a light was on.

"From what I've been able to gather, this is a rich-ish neighborhood. Plenty of big houses. Plenty to take."

"You mean...money? Food?"

"Oh, you. I mean lives."

The way he said that almost made me second-guess myself. I'd been able to evade capture for five years and counting. My way of break, enter, kill seemed to get me by just as well as anything else. But what if it didn't meet the standards of the one person who was willing to work with me? What would that mean for me? Would I be going back a step in terms of my real plan?

I returned to reality by Jeff snapping in front of my face and grabbing my wrist. Instinctually, I tried pulling myself away from him, and he only held on tighter and raised an eyebrow.

"Hey. Calm down. I just need this."

It took me a good second to realize he was talking about the twine. I'd been holding it in my hand the entire time instead of securing it to my belt like I usually did. I felt kind of stupid, but relieved.

Well, what did you think he was doing?

I shooed that question out of my mind. I'd gotten sidetracked enough already.

"Well?"

I blinked twice and nodded, letting the rope drop into Jeff's hand. My eyes were now fixed on the wall and the window before us. I let my mind reel as much as it wanted with this; I needed all the information possible to work with.

"This neighborhood's rich?"

"Ish. I'm not really sure."

"Then there's probably a lot of families. Even more than average. Do you know if there's a school nearby?"

"How much time do you think I've spent outside of the woods?"

I sighed. "My point is, it's a good thing we're looking at the second floor window, because if we broke in through the first then we'd have to climb up stairs. There would be more people to hear us, and more time for them to react. All we need is to get in, question, and kill if necessary."

"Well, aren't you...wait, question? Kill if necessary?"

"Yeah. I still haven't found—"

I was about to let my mission slip when I remembered that I still didn't exactly know this man. I couldn't trust him with this much. I shut my mouth, and he narrowed his eyes with difficulty.

"...okay. Just so you know," he continued, flicking a particularly reflective knife like it was some sort of plaything, "not a big fan of the whole questioning thing. So keep it short and sweet. Capiche?"

"Sure." I felt my face heating up, even though it was a pretty chilly night. I knew he was going to try to get something about my past out if me now. If anything were to make sure of that, my little slip-up sure did.

"Good. Because if you take more than five minutes, I'm skewering 'em. Come on."