Tim’s “terrific” Christmas!!!

*This fanfic is under my folder titled “Marble Hornets fanfics”. This is how I imagine a childhood Christmas for one of the characters would be. Marble Hornets was an ARG horror show on YouTube that began in 2009 and ended in 2014. The show was created by Troy Wagner.  I’m almost done watching it and I LOVE it so far!  There are books too but I have yet to read them. Gacha Club character designs are under my forum titled “My character designs<33”. Enjoy!*

Even though the lights were off and the window blinds were closed shut, Tim still felt the persistent itch in his back that told him that he was being watched.

How long ago had he been sent to the hospital? He didn’t quite remember. In fact, his memories were becoming quite blurry and disjointed, something that kept him up at night. Tim did vaguely remember that his Mom was the one who sent him, that she said he “needed to get better”, but what did she look like? What did she sound like?

Nothing made sense to him anymore. The doctors would come in with their pills and tell him that if he took enough, then he would be normal. Then he wouldn’t see all of the scary things anymore. Then he wouldn’t fall down anymore. Then he wouldn’t lose his memory. Then he would be “calmer”.

But he didn’t need the hospital, Tim was certain of it. He was perfectly fine and the only reason all of the bad stuff was happening was because of…

No. He would not think about it. He saw the snow piling up outside of his small window, he overheard the doctors talking about it. Though the hospital wasn’t decorated, from hearing their words and looking at the calendar in the information hall, he could see that it was very much Christmas Eve, 1997.

He overheard the other kids at the hospital say that Santa wasn’t coming to the hospital, that he didn’t care about kids “like them”. Tim wanted to believe that they were all wrong, but every day at the hospital was another day of falling, another day of having to take pills, another day of seeing the bad stuff. Every day at the hospital was terrible, horrible, miserable and sometimes he found himself doubting the doctors’ words about things being “better”.

But when night struck and everybody was asleep, when Tim couldn’t even see the guards anymore, he snuck out of his room and into the hallway. He was going to look for Santa Claus, something he had just thought of in his bed, amidst his restlessness. Maybe if he saw Santa for real, if he knew that good things existed, then maybe he would be a little bit happier.

Tim fidgeted with the ends of his hospital gown, hardly believing how calm everything was. Nobody had come to stop him. Usually something happened, but nothing was happening.

He still walked on, the only light being the streetlights from the nearby highway shining through the blinds in the hospital, hoping that he’d find something magical later. All Tim had to do was find Santa, then his Christmas would be better and he’d feel special and-

A piercing ringing noise screeched in his mind. Tim’s heart raced, he knew what it meant. He was hoping that it wouldn’t happen again, but it was happening, he couldn’t stop it, the noise was coming, the bad stuff was coming…

He tried reaching his hands up to his head, to block out the sound, trying to make it stop, but just like any other day when the noise came, he couldn’t move his arms. His whole body had become as heavy as stone.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no nononononoNONONONONO! No no no no please go away I just want to see Santa I just-

His thoughts stopped swirling, he was on his knees, the skin on his kneecaps against the rough cement floor, the thin hospital gown doing nothing to protect him from scrapes that would undoubtedly appear the next morning. At the corner of his eyes, he saw it. The tall, faceless man in the suit. The man who was watching him.

The Operator.

The doctors said that The Operator was just “an imaginary friend” and that Tim needed to “make him go away”, but The Operator wasn’t imaginary and it certainly wasn’t a friend. That was what Tim tried to tell them, but they didn’t listen. They never did, even though they said otherwise.

Tears stung at his eyes, but he could still see The Operator through his blurred vision, taunting him just like some of the kids in his old school. Though it didn’t speak, he could feel it making fun of him through how it was watching him, through how it smiled him invisibly. He knew it just like he knew to walk, just like he knew to breathe, just like he knew that he couldn’t breathe very well The Operator made him fall.

The tears built and bloomed at his eyes and then, he wasn’t at the hospital anymore. He was swimming in water, so much water, all of it was so so so dirty, there was so much leaves and muck. It was in his eyes, in his mouth, in his ears. It was everywhere and it was weighing down on his limbs, just like-

The water disappeared. He was in a place that was entirely black. He wasn’t sure if there was a sky or a ceiling, if he was outside or inside. There was nothing but blackness and…

Tim hitched a breath. Normally when The Operator took him to the scary dark place, there was nobody else around, but right next to his feet was a little girl who looked so small, probably three years old. Her eyes were rolled back into her head, only the whites showed. Her mouth was open in what looked like a scream, blood pooled around her soft, stringy blond hair.

He stayed right where he was, his fright rooting him to the ground. Did The Operator hurt her? The Operator never made him bleed. What then? Why? Why make a toddler bleed? Why make him see it? Why why why?

The dark place was gone. He was standing outside, his bare feet deep in the snow, his arms wrapped around his chest, the bitter, cold air biting and clawing at his skin.

He was standing next to a highway. Cars sped past him, as though he were a ghost that only the haunted could see. There were tall trees naked of leaves that surrounded him, but other than that, there was nothing.

Where was he? Tim didn’t really know. He could see that it was a highway, but he didn’t know where to go. He couldn’t see the hospital or home, just cars speeding past him.

Tim waved his arms, his hands raw and red, shaking violently from the unforgiving weather, but not one car stopped. Why wouldn’t anybody stop? Didn’t they see him? Didn’t they care?

He kept waving and waving his arms in the air, even attempting to shout for help as loud as he could with his chattering teeth, but not one car stopped. Not one car stopped for him.

The tears came spilling down from his eyes, his heart felt as though it would explode and bleed into his whole body. He called for help and not one person stopped. Not one person cared. It was Christmas Eve and nobody came for him.

He couldn’t stay out there forever. The Operator would come back soon and then who knew what it would do after getting him all alone? On top of that, he was in the snow with only his hospital gown and he could already feel his kneecaps bleeding. He had to go somewhere and fast. He didn’t want to stay by the highway forever.

So Tim turned on his heels and ran. He didn’t know where to go or when to stop, but he kept running, ignoring the throbbing pain in him and all around him. He had to go somewhere where The Operator wouldn’t find him, where he could be safe and sound.

His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, demanding that he run until he was so very, very far away. As he ran, he noticed that there weren’t any houses for him to stop by. Why weren’t there any houses? Why did The Operator send him to a lonely place? Wasn’t there anybody who could help?

The trees all around Tim began to clear out and form into an empty space of snow that had trees pushed further back. There was a parking lot next to the space of snow and in the middle of the clear space was a sign that he could vaguely read in the moonlight as: “ROSSWOOD PARK”.

Rosswood. Rosswood. Well, Rosswood was big. There was a parking lot, so that meant that people went there. The Operator would never come to a place where there were other people.

Tim willed himself to keep running, pushing forth his weary, tiny body. Never before in his life had he ever felt so small, so easily breakable, then he did in that moment. As he ran, he fancied that he could hear his bones cracking underneath his skin.

Finally, after much running, he had made it to the trees in the park. He then walked up next to a tree and let himself slump next to a tree, his built-up exhaustion catching up to him.

Everything hurt so much. Would he be okay by morning? Did he even want to wake up? The Operator would be waiting for him and then everything would happen again! Would it ever stop? Was he supposed to wait for it to stop?

Tim felt the sobs come rushing back down, just like he did near the highway, except he was alone for real. He didn’t feel the eyes of The Operator and no other people were around. He was alone, but he felt the safest that he ever did. Because there was nobody around to hurt him, nobody around to make him suffer.

But he didn’t want to die either. Not quite. He wanted to find better things in life, happier things. How long would he have to wait for the good things to come? How long would The Operator be around? What if his whole life would have The Operator torturing him? What if he never got a chance of peace? What if dying was the only option? He didn’t think he could live much longer out in the cold with nothing but a hospital gown, but what else was waiting for him in life but The Operator?

Tim couldn’t run anymore. His body was so numb, his mind was so loud and his heart was so heavy.

Maybe he’d get to see Santa fly in the sky before he died.