I suppose I should introduce myself.
This blog is probably not going to update very often, if at all beyond this post. This post itself is, I guess, for anyone wondering "Who's this guy?" to find out. I've been around longer than you think. Maybe some of you from the period after Core Theory, post Robert Sagel, will remember me.
The name on my drivers license, birth certificate etc is Harrison Sinclair. So I suppose if you want to address me you can refer to me as Harrison, or Harry if you want to be familiar. Most people call me H.
I was born, however, Harrison Matenga-White, twenty-nine years ago, in Auckland, New Zealand. When I was seven, a strange man with no face took me away. I went to live with other people who served him, until one day a woman broke into the house I was living in and took me away, told me that the man I was serving was evil and that I could break away. I was seventeen.
I did. After three years of near-solitary confinement. Tamora, who was a teacher, gave me a piecemeal kind of education, when I was lucid- I was never enrolled in school beyond Year 10. She taught me bits of maths and science, about history and geography, read me all the books she could find. I learned to resist the Compulsion, then I just stopped feeling it.
Tamora was an H. A Helper. She had a psychological thing she could do that...well, buried memories, let your brain fill in the gaps. Unless you specifically went searching for them, you would never remember. She would hunt down victims of the Slender man and reset them. I helped, and then became an H in my own right. I was given my own mask, as well, making it easy to pass for a proxy, pass through infested areas relatively unchallenged. It's been replaced a few times, but it's still the same model. Blank, smooth, plain white on one side and black with a white question mark stretching from eyebrow to jaw on the other.
In January, last year, I discovered a slenderblog, Exilis Veritas, upkept by a girl who lived in the same city as me. Genevieve Sullivan. I read it to see if she gave any clues as to where she lived, so I could wipe her.
Then she mentioned one of her co-workers, a close friend of hers named Chester, and as I caught up on the blog it was discovered that Chester, too, was haunted, and the two later got together as a couple.
I barely absorbed all this, because his name was Chester Matenga-White.
My brother, seven years my junior.
I kept an eye on them for months before I acted. My brother, a university student, worked at a cafe-slash-restaurant. He had a pretty redheaded girlfriend who was deadly with a cricket bat. He listened to musical artists I kind of liked, and read books I had heard of. I drank in every piece of information I could get about this little lost piece of my past.
I watched as a young Indoctrinated girl, calling herself "Tenebria", begin to harass them. I watched them win that war with kindness, stripping away the numb facade she had erected to protect herself. I watched Stella emerge from that shell. I was proud of him, of all of them. My little brother, unknowingly doing what I had set out to do-- helping others who were being affected by the Slender Man.
But they were breaking. They always do. No matter what good they were doing, what role models they must have been for the people around them, I had to wipe them. So I did. I posted on their blog informing their followers who I was (with a lot of lies, to make future wipes easier so proxies would not know the exact nature of what they were dealing with) and of the wipe, and then I wiped Vivi and Chester.
I had intended to wipe Stella as well, but when she came in to find me wiping Vivi and Chester I couldn't. This weary girl with the feverish dark eyes, so very small and thin, nineteen, looking at me with hackles raised and a kitchen knife in her hands, told me that if this was going to keep Vivi and Chester safe, make it so they could live their lives without His interference, she wouldn't stop me.
I couldn't wipe her. There was no way I could re-integrate her. She had no surviving relatives, her life had been consumed by Him the way that mine had. I looked at her, curled up like a sleepy, angry, defensive kitten in a gigantic armchair while I rewrote the memories of her closest friends, and I wanted to protect her. I wanted to protect all of them.
I walked away from that house with a heavy heart.
I kept an eye on Stella for a little while, watching as a few of the other indoctrinated that had been involved with Vivi and Chess gravitated to her. I did too, eventually. We became friends, her, Frank, Kristen, Adam and I. Kristen, who was as beautiful as she was sociopathic and damaged, snapped and went back to Him. The others remained, though.
They were like family to me, especially Stella. Tamora suggested I offer they become H, and they accepted. We all split up, going all over the globe, convinced we were going to make a difference.
Kristen- or Two Face, as she was known as a proxy, started picking us off. First Stella. She was my sister, my best friend, a bright, witty girl full of potential just snuffed out. Then Frank and Adam and Tamora.
I started seeing hallucinations of Stella shortly after her death. I still do. In my darkest moments, I see her standing or sitting a little way off, just looking at me and then she's gone.
Two Face came for me, and asked me to kill her. I should have, but I didn't. She followed me around like a stray dog, alternately begging me to kill her, asking for my forgiveness, and making incredibly awkward sexual advances until one day she left. I learned, later, that she attempted to kill one of the people responsible for Stella shaking off His hold, a fellow by the name of JediZero who was Stella's boyfriend, for lack of a better term.
That's pretty much my life story.
Apart from a trip to America to visit JediZero, I've been in New Zealand ever since. My kit was severely damaged in an incident recently, so I can't wipe minds. At the moment, I am nobody, and I have nothing but all of Tamora's savings, and mine, from her teaching gig and me getting employment however I can, from the last ten years. It's enough to live off, if I'm frugal, for a while, but not indefinitely. I need a job, which is unlikely in this economic climate. I have no qualifications and I'm not particularly good at anything. I'm not sure what I'm going to do.
I see Vivi and Chess sometimes. They don't know who I am, just that I'm a friend of their (dead) friend and they keep telling me I should come over and have coffee with them or something.
I want to. I want to get to know my brother and his tiny, fiesty redheaded fiancee. I'm not sure if I can without putting them in danger.
It's awfully lonely sometimes.