Squee grows up with a complex of sorts.
Dreams and Reality
Todd Casil moved away from his parents when he was ten years old to live with his aunt across town. He should have been happy. Away from his hateful, negligent parents, and especially away from that man. The neighbor. The killer. Shmee hated him, told him bad things about that man. Little Todd feared him. The monster under his bed was real, and it spoke to him. It came to him covered in blood, asking for a band-aid, traumatizing him while quite possibly being the only positive influence in his life. This he blocked out of his memory, not realizing that this psychopath would be the first person to ever take genuine interest in his well-being. For some reason, as his aunt drove him away from his parentÂ’s house, he felt pangs of loss in his heart. The dreams began a year after he moved. Every night, a man came to his window and took him to a place where nothing could hurt him. And he was happy. The tall, thin man made him feel good and wanted, even loved.
Todd woke up with sticky sheets sometimes.
He would draw the man's silhouette in countless notebooks at skool.
When Todd reached highskool, he found himself attracted to other boys, mostly thin black clad goth boys and almost always older. Often he made out with these boys in bathroom stalls during class, letting them slip black polished fingers into the waistband of his pants while he submissively clung to their shoulder blades and threw back his head when they bit into his neck like the vampires they thought they were. All the while, he closed his eyes, and remembered his dream man.
But not one of them could accuse him of being a slut, although he was just a little, because that would mean admitting to their kohl smeared gothic girlfriends that they liked to screw around with other boys. Dressing &"differently" didn't always mean that there was a progressive mind underneath the daring outfits. Todd knew this and wasn't offended by the secrecy. It just got annoying when he wanted someone to be with, and the guy who he'd gone down on last period treated him like nothing had happened.
He wanted to be protected and loved, not screwed and thrown away. He wanted the man in his dreams, who held him and told him everything, would be okay, after he rid the people who hurt his Squeegee of their mortal coils. He always called him Squee or Squeegee, which was a nickname Todd barely remembered from childhood.
The years with his parents were a blur, like a nightmare that had come to an end. He didn't remember the first nine years of his life. He figured, he probably didn't want to if it was bad enough to just block out. All he could remember was the blue hair and messy spikes that he ran his fingers through every night and the black shirt he clung to as his man held him and whispered in his ear. It didn't occur to him that it might be connected to memories from his childhood or manifestations of the twisted comfort brought to him by a murderer. He hadn't even taken Shmee with him when he left, so the bear couldn't help him remember a person he'd subconsciously fallen in love with years ago.
In his last year of highskool, Todd began to frequent clubs and bars mostly of the goth or industrial variety. By age eighteen, he had grown tall and thin, and very beautiful. His face was soft and feminine, his brown eyes were big and round. His hair, which was naturally black as opposed to dyed, was soft and cut short and choppy around his head. This in combination with his wispy body made him particularly attractive to other men. The clubs were a good place to find these men, and the best place find ones that resembled the man in his dreams.
He often found himself being flirted with in dark corners of a goth club, and being taken into bathrooms, sometimes even apartments to mess around with men in their late twenties, who found his youth and submissive nature irresistible. He played them well, always leaning back against the wall when they talked to him, gazing like a docile kitten while he let them think they were in control.
But it never filled him. The interactions were always dissatisfactory, never what he was looking for. Sex with beautiful strangers was still nothing compared to his dreams. Although convinced that this man was a figment of his mind, Todd didn't really give up looking.
A year later, Todd went to collage. He wanted to be a writer. His poems and stories made his professors cry because they always reflected the immense sense of loss that he could not explain and his relentless search for something that felt so real, but was not.
A month before he turned twenty, a man in his literature class asked him out on a date. His name was Dave. And he was tall and thin, with dyed black hair. He was also very nice and beautiful, except for his eyes, which disturbed Todd greatly. But he wasn't about to let the first person to ever ask him out on more than one date get away. Dave really liked him, and didn't even ask about sex. He seemed only interested in Todd's happiness. On his twentieth birthday, Dave took him out to dinner. Afterward, they went to a club Todd had not been to before. It was dark, like he was used to, but there was something wrong about it. It reminded him of a basement because of the dampness. The floor seemed wet and the lighting was uneven. There seemed to be more younger, underage looking boys and girls there than he remembered seeing at other places. He felt all around pretty disgusted.
"Why did we come here, Dave?" He asked, but Dave was no longer beside him. "Dave?"
Dave had gone to the bar to buy Todd a drink. He smiled wickedly as he took the drink form the bartender and over to where Todd stood looking confused. This was, after all, the only place in town you could buy such a drink premixed.
"There you are.", He said, relieved.
"I bought you a drink, birthday boy." Dave said, his smile widening.
Todd shuddered slightly. Tonight, Dave's smile matched his evil blue eyes. He knew something was wrong, but before it could register, he was already sipping the offered beverage.
He swayed. "I can't possibly be drunk off of that..." "Shit" He looked at Dave, whose smile was inhuman, and whimpered, as he couldn't formulate the word "Why".
He felt himself being caught from behind, and saw a tall man come up behind Dave. He recognized the blue hair and figured that he had begun to dream, except that the man drew a long blunt object. It looked like a bat with spikes attached to it. He absently remembered that this weapon was called a mace.
Suddenly, half of Dave's head was a bloody mass and he was falling. The man looked at Todd, his mace raised again. The terror of impending death took a back seat to his slipping out of consciousness. Before he went out, one word escaped his lips.
"Squeee"
Dreams and Reality
Todd Casil moved away from his parents when he was ten years old to live with his aunt across town. He should have been happy. Away from his hateful, negligent parents, and especially away from that man. The neighbor. The killer. Shmee hated him, told him bad things about that man. Little Todd feared him. The monster under his bed was real, and it spoke to him. It came to him covered in blood, asking for a band-aid, traumatizing him while quite possibly being the only positive influence in his life. This he blocked out of his memory, not realizing that this psychopath would be the first person to ever take genuine interest in his well-being. For some reason, as his aunt drove him away from his parentÂ’s house, he felt pangs of loss in his heart. The dreams began a year after he moved. Every night, a man came to his window and took him to a place where nothing could hurt him. And he was happy. The tall, thin man made him feel good and wanted, even loved.
Todd woke up with sticky sheets sometimes.
He would draw the man's silhouette in countless notebooks at skool.
When Todd reached highskool, he found himself attracted to other boys, mostly thin black clad goth boys and almost always older. Often he made out with these boys in bathroom stalls during class, letting them slip black polished fingers into the waistband of his pants while he submissively clung to their shoulder blades and threw back his head when they bit into his neck like the vampires they thought they were. All the while, he closed his eyes, and remembered his dream man.
But not one of them could accuse him of being a slut, although he was just a little, because that would mean admitting to their kohl smeared gothic girlfriends that they liked to screw around with other boys. Dressing &"differently" didn't always mean that there was a progressive mind underneath the daring outfits. Todd knew this and wasn't offended by the secrecy. It just got annoying when he wanted someone to be with, and the guy who he'd gone down on last period treated him like nothing had happened.
He wanted to be protected and loved, not screwed and thrown away. He wanted the man in his dreams, who held him and told him everything, would be okay, after he rid the people who hurt his Squeegee of their mortal coils. He always called him Squee or Squeegee, which was a nickname Todd barely remembered from childhood.
The years with his parents were a blur, like a nightmare that had come to an end. He didn't remember the first nine years of his life. He figured, he probably didn't want to if it was bad enough to just block out. All he could remember was the blue hair and messy spikes that he ran his fingers through every night and the black shirt he clung to as his man held him and whispered in his ear. It didn't occur to him that it might be connected to memories from his childhood or manifestations of the twisted comfort brought to him by a murderer. He hadn't even taken Shmee with him when he left, so the bear couldn't help him remember a person he'd subconsciously fallen in love with years ago.
In his last year of highskool, Todd began to frequent clubs and bars mostly of the goth or industrial variety. By age eighteen, he had grown tall and thin, and very beautiful. His face was soft and feminine, his brown eyes were big and round. His hair, which was naturally black as opposed to dyed, was soft and cut short and choppy around his head. This in combination with his wispy body made him particularly attractive to other men. The clubs were a good place to find these men, and the best place find ones that resembled the man in his dreams.
He often found himself being flirted with in dark corners of a goth club, and being taken into bathrooms, sometimes even apartments to mess around with men in their late twenties, who found his youth and submissive nature irresistible. He played them well, always leaning back against the wall when they talked to him, gazing like a docile kitten while he let them think they were in control.
But it never filled him. The interactions were always dissatisfactory, never what he was looking for. Sex with beautiful strangers was still nothing compared to his dreams. Although convinced that this man was a figment of his mind, Todd didn't really give up looking.
A year later, Todd went to collage. He wanted to be a writer. His poems and stories made his professors cry because they always reflected the immense sense of loss that he could not explain and his relentless search for something that felt so real, but was not.
A month before he turned twenty, a man in his literature class asked him out on a date. His name was Dave. And he was tall and thin, with dyed black hair. He was also very nice and beautiful, except for his eyes, which disturbed Todd greatly. But he wasn't about to let the first person to ever ask him out on more than one date get away. Dave really liked him, and didn't even ask about sex. He seemed only interested in Todd's happiness. On his twentieth birthday, Dave took him out to dinner. Afterward, they went to a club Todd had not been to before. It was dark, like he was used to, but there was something wrong about it. It reminded him of a basement because of the dampness. The floor seemed wet and the lighting was uneven. There seemed to be more younger, underage looking boys and girls there than he remembered seeing at other places. He felt all around pretty disgusted.
"Why did we come here, Dave?" He asked, but Dave was no longer beside him. "Dave?"
Dave had gone to the bar to buy Todd a drink. He smiled wickedly as he took the drink form the bartender and over to where Todd stood looking confused. This was, after all, the only place in town you could buy such a drink premixed.
"There you are.", He said, relieved.
"I bought you a drink, birthday boy." Dave said, his smile widening.
Todd shuddered slightly. Tonight, Dave's smile matched his evil blue eyes. He knew something was wrong, but before it could register, he was already sipping the offered beverage.
He swayed. "I can't possibly be drunk off of that..." "Shit" He looked at Dave, whose smile was inhuman, and whimpered, as he couldn't formulate the word "Why".
He felt himself being caught from behind, and saw a tall man come up behind Dave. He recognized the blue hair and figured that he had begun to dream, except that the man drew a long blunt object. It looked like a bat with spikes attached to it. He absently remembered that this weapon was called a mace.
Suddenly, half of Dave's head was a bloody mass and he was falling. The man looked at Todd, his mace raised again. The terror of impending death took a back seat to his slipping out of consciousness. Before he went out, one word escaped his lips.
"Squeee"