Chapter Two:

Johnny found his refrigerator already stocked with food. To his dismay, though, there weren't any Frooty Pops in the freezer, and he wasn't in the mood for a fudgesicle.

He was halfway out the door when he remembered, "I don't have a fucking car." But there it was, parked near the side of the house, probably dropped off by someone from the hospital while he had been sleeping.

His car. The one thing left from his old life.

Johnny climbed into it, loving the sense of familiarity. He turned the keys, which had been left in the ignition, and started the car.

It was an agonizing twenty minutes to the nearest supermarket, but it was well worth the trip. In the back corner of the store was a whole freezer full of Frooty Pops and frozen things of the like. Johnny stocked up on Cherry Freeze and wheeled his cart to the front of the store.

After he had paid for the Frooty Pops, he planned to return to his home. But on the way back to his car, he happened to glance across the street.

He froze.

A pet shop.

He could use a companion. Maybe a gerbil, or a hamster, or a guinea pig…

Or a rabbit.

And it was a rabbit he chose. And on the way home, as he was trying to think of a name for the creature, the name Nailbunny came to his mind. Johnny quickly discarded the idea, and finally settled on the name Feebly.

The rabbit was a runt, it seemed, and a brown-gray color…like Nailbunny had been. Now that Johnny thought about it, the two did look eerily alike. They even looked at him the same way – as if they could see right through him.

This rabbit, however, would not be nailed to a wall upon its arrival home. It wouldn't even be kept in a cage, rather allowed to run around the house freely. This time, things would be done right.

When he arrived back at his house, Johnny immediately took the rabbit up to his bedroom with him. After Johnny had settled in himself, he opened one eye to watch Feebly, who pressed against his side.

Johnny sighed, content.

"Maybe a normal life isn't so bad."

He woke up to the feel of a soft, warm body resting on the top of his head. He looked outside – darkness.

An odd feeling passed over him, which he brushed off as paranoia. Still, though, something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

Johnny clutched Feebly to his chest and walked down to the first floor. The quietness of the house gripped him, making him actually afraid.

On an impulse, he opened the front door – and almost screamed.

Two bodies lay dead on his front steps. Two teenagers. One, the teen mother from the airplane; the other, the boy who had tried to beat him out for the taxi. Somehow Johnny knew they were a couple, the girlfriend having flown in to meet with her boyfriend. It just seemed obvious.

They were a sickening sight. Johnny noticed the boy's hands gone and missing, and the girl's body almost split in half, with some random parts removed.

Johnny rushed back inside and called the police immediately.

The bodies were cleared off his porch by three in the morning. After the police were through with questioning Johnny, they advised him it would be best to step out for a little while, take a drive, while the remaining mess of blood was cleaned up. Johnny left Feebly up in his room and set off.

He drove on until he was far down in southern Rhode Island. There were hardly any cars on the street, but a few women were scattered around on the sidewalks. Johnny tried not to look them in thee eye, as they made him extremely uncomfortable, but it was impossible to avoid their gaze entirely.

"I've got to get out of here…"

Johnny pressed his foot down hard on the gas pedal. The car, in response, sputtered and stopped moving altogether.

"Fuck."

There wasn't a gas station in sight, and no one who seemed would be able to help him. He was alone in southern Rhode Island with a broken down car and a bunch of hookers.

"Well, well, well, darling, what might you be doing here at this time of night?"

"N-no, you don't understand, I – my car – "

"Hush now, why don't you tell me all about it back here, in my office?"

"No, really, I – "

"Come on, you're not too bad looking. $40 an hour, what do you say?"

Johnny got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. "Like fuck! My car broke down and I just want to go home! Now get the hell out of my day, you dirty fucking WHORE!"

The hooker, used to this sort of thing by now, was not fazed. With a shrug, she returned to her street corner.

Johnny didn't have anywhere to go. He had no way of getting home and was being eyed by hookers. If he walked on to look for help, in this part of town, he wouldn't be surprised if his car got hotwired and stolen. But if he stayed, he could be there all night.

Johnny took a deep breath. "It's just self-defense…"

In a moment his car was rigged. Upon entering the car, an intruder would be treated to a knife in the ass when he sat down. And if he leaned into the seat, he would find another one in his back. Pressing his foot down on the gas pedal would treat him to a strong electric shock.

Johnny walked on through the streets. It was almost amusing, how there seemed to be not even a bar in the area, just a bunch of hookers and rundown houses.

"You seem lost, pal."

The voice came from an alley nearby. Johnny, careful not to get too close, scanned the area over. It seemed there was a man in the alley, leaning against the wall. The man flicked a cigarette into the street and stepped out into the light.

He was young, around Johnny's age, perhaps younger. He had messy black hair, thin lips twisted into a sort of smirk, and a seemingly yellow glow emitting from his eyes. He wore a trench coat, and an inverted cross around his neck. He walked over to Johnny and held out his hand. The nails on his fingers were long, tough, and sharp.

"I'm Angus."

"I'm…"

"New around here?"

"Well, yes."

"But you didn't expect to find many hookers around Rhode Island, did you?"

Johnny shrugged. "Well, no, not really. It just doesn't seem like the kind of place that would be like…this."

"Oh, don't worry." Angus waved a hand. "It's only like this around the south. And Oniville."

"That's great, but you see, my car broke down."

"And?" Angus lit up another cigarette.

"Well, honestly, I'm not sure what to do. It's my first day here, you know…out in the world. For the first time in a long time."

Angus grinned, the glow from his eyes piercing into the dark night. "I knew it! A psychoward guy, eh? And three years? What were you in for?"

"It's a bit embarrassing, really…"

"Come on, buddy." Angus slapped his arm around Johnny's shoulders. He smelled strongly of cigarettes. "No shame here."

"I was there for schizophrenia," Johnny said reluctantly. "Surely I would have been sent to jail, had I not been 'insane'. I was responsible for the deaths of probably thousands of people. I think I started the killing when I was around 20…it went on maybe five years, I guess…I thought I had to. I thought the situation was out of my control. And I can't believe I'm telling you all this."

"So you were sort of like the Son of Sam?"

"I guess, but the voices only came from inanimate or dead things."

"But, like the Son of Sam, you thought the voices were coming from something maybe…divine."

Johnny arched one eyebrow. "You seem a lot more intelligent than you look."

"I could say the same for you, my friend. I'll take that as a compliment. Now go on."

"Sure…well, I suppose that is what I thought. Once, I…I had this dream that I went to heaven and hell. I thought it was real."

"Maybe it was. Haven't you ever had thought that maybe…all these people who heard voices telling them to kill…maybe they were meant to hear it. Maybe it serves a purpose."

Johnny knit his eyebrows together. "That all sounds oddly familiar."

"Just a guess, my friend. Just a guess."

Authors Note: Anyone who can guess why I named the rabbit Feebly gets a cookie. An imaginary one. And yes, the Son of Sam is a real person – his real name is David Berkowitz, and he's currently in jail. He's also my cousin. Bleh. Anyway…yeah, hope you enjoyed this chapter. I don't usually do too many author's notes…