Sarah slowly took the tie, feeling the rough spots of dried blood that had once been a part of her father.  She looked slowly back up at the figure and then back down at the tie, the screeching raging in her ears.  She felt no sorrow for the death of her father; he had abused her and taken away her mother.  But as she looked at those dark spots on what was formerly a pristine white tie, she realized that his blood was a part of her, that she was just like him, or so it seemed.  Sarah couldnâ€™t count the times she had wished her father would simply disappear.  Did that make her a murderer? Was she just as responsible as Mr. S Man?<br/><br/>Sarah dropped the tie, watched as it fluttered down to the ground into a puddle of water.  All at once, that nails-on-chalkboard sound that she had become so accustomed to was too much, and she screamed, emulating the own noise in her head that no one else seemed to hear, that no one else knew existed.  In it were all the years of pain she had endured, releasing a tormented soul, all the horror that had been eating her away.  She tried to shove the Slender Man, trampling her fatherâ€™s tie, tears streaming down her face.