Title: Little Red

Rating: T

Author: Jynx'sbox

A/N: Hey guys, here is another piece of barely adequate crap for you to enjoy.

Chapter one

xXx

The park was blissfully quiet. A cool breeze only just ruffled the soft black hair of its only occupant.

Doe eyes, hollowed by a childhood of trauma, stared out at the rusty pipes of a cold metal slide nearby. Nimble fingers; out of nervous habit, picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his striking red hoodie.

Squee was waiting for someone.

A rickety old car pulled up in a series of soft squeaks. He didn't look to it though; he knew who it was. There was the sound of a car door slamming shut before the arriving person sat gingerly on the hard ground a little ways to his right. Neither individual spoke; this other person knew he couldn't convince Squee otherwise. The boy plucked absently at the rough material of his dark blue jeans.

"Tomorrow." The boy's voice was almost inaudible. His silent companion had little trouble hearing though; he'd been expecting such a statement since he'd received Squee's phone call. There was a slight nod in response and a touch of cold fingertips to the warm fabric of the boy's shoulder. Looking at the other human being for the first time he was faced with a small black taser. It was this other person's way of saying 'just in case'.

There were many reasons as to why Squee accepted the electric instrument. Various excuses as to why he would need even the slightest protection when he'd planned the entire day down to what shoes to wear came to mind. The most important was that he didn't really know if the outcome of tomorrow would be what he wanted it to be.

Long thin fingers reached out in a tentative manner and grasped the thick, black handle of the small instrument. Skeletal digits released it once he had his grip. Squee looked up with all the innocence and childish wonder he'd had as a child. Nny wasn't going to stop him.

How long had it been since Johnny had gone and come back from his 'vacation'? Squee hadn't seen his demented neighbor in a very long time. No screams had randomly erupted from next door, no visits from the manic man in the middle of the night, no crazy theories or sputterings of the wickedness of humanity while ripping some random pedestrian to pieces.

It had been so long that Squee started to believe the man was gone for good. Eventually the blackened windows and silent nights led him to question whether the strange and deluded man ever existed. Were his parents in the right when they sent him to that psyche ward?

Then Johnny came back.

It had to have happened in the middle of the night; while he was sleeping. He could have missed it on his way to school the next morning. Squee'd stopped looking at the desolate reminder of the horrors of his childhood a while back. For the longest time he would look next door for the rusty vehicle that stuck out amidst the uniform of his street. After a few years of seeing nothing he didn't even bother to glance in the house's direction. Had he failed to notice the tale tell sign of Johnny's return?

It occurred to him, several hours after he let the realization set in, that he might have come while Squee was in school.

The thought scared him; the possible midnight advent of this deranged neighbor. Did Johnny change the way he wanted to? Was he the same as, if not worse than, before?

Would Johnny knock on his window that night?

The visits he was half expecting never came. The house remained as silent as it had been for years. No screaming or shrieking, no yelling or crying, there was only a quiet tension.

Several times Squee would be on his way to school when a prickling would settle over his shoulders. The chill would travel down his spine and towards his heels. When he would turn, movement would hinder his sight against everything but those darkened windows. Was that the white of two eyes or the glint of a knife?

Finally the fear morphed into desperation. He wondered, while hiding in his room from his parents, if maybe he was just imagining the whole thing. When he looked outside again there would be no ugly reddish brown automobile; no dusty, dirty sign would be staked in the front lawn forbidding solicitors from walking on the dirt; it would all have been a cruel joke.

Squee would then take a cautious peek outside to see the house as he'd seen it for the entirety of his life in that town, except it would be a strange mixture of what it had been when he was a child and what it had been after Johnny had disappeared. It would house a demented killer silently. The desperation would shift to hysteria.

Several weeks into the following school year something awful happened to Squee. Something he didn't confess to anyone for weeks.

Todd Casil stopped caring about the 'scary neighbor man'.

The next two weeks were a blur. He blocked the entire incident out of his mind and zombied his way through his classes. He paid enough attention to take notes, do his homework, and eat. He built up a rather decent defense against all thought until he started dreaming about what happened.

A break down was inevitable. It happened right in the middle of history.

His creepy counselor recommended keeping a diary. Squee could write no more than three words. 'I feel like . . .' He threw the diary away.

The counselor then suggested telling his parents. His mother stared at him blankly. His father laughed and started screaming at Squee's back.

"You ruined my life, you faggot!" Squee needed a scapegoat. So he called Johnny.

He couldn't remember for the life of him how he found the man's number nor did he have any assurance the phone even worked. He tried anyways, despite the latter. Each ring seemed to last forever and the silence that buzzed between them went on for an eternity. After a few seconds there was a click.

"Hello?"

xXx

So, yeah.

Tell me what you guys think.