Another chapter. Yay. ;D

Chapter 25 - John 13: Part 1 - See You Now

A baby stuck in his cot.

His eyes were closed. They've never opened.

John's face was pale, tiny and helpless. Not knowing how to speak out. He was breathing and nothing was there but flesh and blood. He kept on breathing in and out, before he found himself trying to stay alive. John's body was so tiny that nothing was inside of him and nothing will ever be. His eyes were too shut tight, nothing coming out of his mouth and as his pale flesh hardened, he felt stiffened in place. Unable to move.

Unable to breathe.

John was cowering.

"No," Johnny's face was locked on his little son's as he twitched and broke and shattered. He touched John's face and John didn't stop twitching. He brought the little piece close to him. He could smell the blood and ectoplasm both stirring inside of him. Kitty's face had nothing inside of it. She was staring at little John, who was so helpless and hopeless in his state. He couldn't see. Little John couldn't see anything. "No!"

Kitty's arms outstretched and she scooped John from his hands. John's voice was cracked and subsided; he was crying, laughing, breaking, nothing was left at all from the little boy's mouth that didn't come out. She could see herself in John. She could see her human life; the little baby that was inside of her so long ago. "Kitty Cat..." Kitty's head whooped upwards and she looked at Johnny.

Kitty Cat. She hadn't heard that since Katie was transforming. Katie was a high school girl who cut herself. Katie was a suicidal maniac because she didn't have her father accepting her little heart's wishes. Katie was this little girl that was just a mass inside of Kitty's body. Katie was gone. Katie was now John.

John was sick.

Jonathon was Katie's other half.

Jonathon and Katie,

Sitting on a tree,

Twirling, dancing, kissing--

GONE.

Johnny and Kitty,

Phasing through the tree,

Looking, breaking, laughing--

THEY'RE STILL HERE.

And they were both materilazed inside of John's body.

John was still twitching when Kitty put him down onto his cot again. Her eyes filling up with tears and nothing could stop her from shaking. "He's so..."

"Like me, baby." Johnny realized. Not able to hide it. Not wanting to reveal it. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he brushed his hand on John's face who didn't stop shivering. "He's not a ghost. He's both ghost and human."

"My father--there was these few genes that I had in me. Human genes. I was a carrier to Huntington's. It's not supposed to show until you're 30 but I'm not human. This gene was passed down to John. That's why he's like this." Katie can remember how her father used to get drunk, threaten to kill her, rape her, do whatever he wanted with her because she was just a posession but two days later, he'd forget everything and blame her. His little daughter. His wife's ugly face. "I'm sorry."

"I'm going to kill him."

Johnny was shaking from the anger inside of him. He tried not to cry. He tried to contain himself. It was hard.

His son was going to forget every touch, every hug, every loving word in moments after he said it. His son was going to go psychotic. His son was going to be disabeled and scared and alone. And there was nothing he can do about it.

I'm sorry, heart.

I've broken you too much.

But I can't fix you, now.

The damage has been done.

It's marked now.

And it'll always stay.

Danny knew that the jolting pain in his body was better than the pain of the blade.

The scalpel was just so tiny in his hands and he wanted it to burn inisde of his body. He should be able to burn. He can't be a frozen statue. He can't be frozen and he didn't want to be an observer of life as his sister beat herself down and was now gone. Possibly gone forever.

The scalpel hit the scar from his surgery and he wrote a 'K' at the used to be blurry 'I'.

At the right side of his chest, he wrote 'JAC'.

JACK.

Because he'd scarred him so very much.

And now, it was written.

He ended up, collapsing onto the floor. And the blackness overtook him. He knew that he didn't faint. He could still feel himself breathing. His heart didn't want to fail. It should've crashed. What was left of his heart? What was left of him?

Tears ran down his cheek, running towards the pool of blood on his chest.

My tears were making bloody ink.

And I will always be bleeding ink, because I was a broken link.

Bleed ink.

I LOVE YOU.

Bleed ink.

I HATE YOU.

Bleed ink.

I'M SORRY.

Bleed ink.

I WANT TO DIE.

Bleed ink.

I CAN'T...

At some point, you always ran out of bleeding ink.

And every word you written always turned black.

Because life was a broken link.

And you're throwing your pain in a flashback.

He never left the house anymore.

They stared like he was a freak.

They stared like he was dead.

They stared like he was a cutter.

They stared like he wasn't human.

They stared.

At the hole that was deep into his heart.

They can see everything.

Stop looking.

Onto the hole that was me.

Stop looking.

At the scar that shaped me.

Stop looking.

At my bruised soul.

Stop looking.

At the black haired boy that hid his eyes.

Stop breathing.

Because everything's suddenly surreal.

And nothing's real.

Am I even breathing anymore?

Am I even alive anymore?

When did I die?

Another bulimic symptom.

To shock every electrode in your heart.

A high pitched scream.

When you're falling into a black hole.

You're nothing but a red rose inside of the black hole.

Tucked inside of a hole, drowning inside of the black ocean.

It seemed like forever.

You'd scream and scream and scream.

And cry.

Because you don't know what to do anymore.

Your throat is dry. Your heart is racing. Every electrical shock inside of your heart shocks you into a deeper, deeper sleep. You'll never wake up and you don't know if you're dead or if you're alive. You're just confused and spiraled into a deep void of nothingness. They're staring. You can feel those eyes staring at your body because you're not normal. You're screaming because they're staring.

They're staring at an imperfection.

"Danny, wake up!"

You can't.

"Danny!"

You can't. You don't know how to wake up. You're in a deep sleep. You're weak and you're dying and living all at once and you don't know what to do but scream. Scream because you think that blood is going to bubble out of your mouth.

"Danny!"

Your heart's infected.

By his viruses.

It's all his fault.

And he doesn't even acknowledge it.

Your heart's infected.

With blood and scars and pacemakers that you don't want.

Or need.

You're supposed to be heart/dead.

Jazz woke up to the sound of screaming.

She was home. Those nice police officers had taken her home.

Light blinding lights stroding through her brain, shocking her into deep unconsciousness. And as she looked back, there he was. He was real and alive and everything else was surreal. Her hand on his chest and she felt like her breath was breaking and her mind couldn't take all these colors in a bang. "Jazzy!" her father managed to slur and she didn't care. All the colors were suddenly hitting her.

But she finally noticed how black his hair was.

She touched his hair, stroked it, felt the greasiness behind it.

"Bulimia. It's a symptom of bulimia. He's still frequently making himself vomit."

She felt like throwing up.

Her pool of blackness that collected inside of her.

Someday, somehow, you're going to see.

The blackness you've been hiding in for so long.

John's tiny body was twitching.

Uncontrollable pain pulsing through every part of his vein and artery and he can't stop the pain from overtaking his body. One part of John's heart was Katie's; blocking the arteries from coming to her heart; she can't take everyone else's acidic blood inside of her and John suddenly can't either. One part of John's heart was Jonathon's; blocking the veins from taking blood away from the heart; he needs every part of his blood right now.

John wanted to open his eyes. He really did.

But he didn't know how to.

They didn't know that he could understand. He could understand them all. He could understand every cord of their voices as they mashed together. He could understand everything.

He could understand that he can't see anything.

He can understand that he was unable to see.

But he can feel.

Her pain. His pain.

And hear every damn loud heartbeat that racked in his body.

He just wanted to see those two people that created him.

He wanted colors to play with.

To paint everything pretty.

And to make everyone see the pretty pictures he's painting.

With two tiny hands.

One was Jonathon's.

One was Katie's.

So just look at the messy painting he did.

Of Johnathon's car and his favorite colors; blue and black; of his football.

Of Katie's heart and her eyes and her hair...

And Katie's father.

I'm sorry for letting that acid blood in me.

It's starting to burn every part of me.

I don't know how to stop it.

Will you hold my heart, mommy?

You'll keep it safe from granddaddy's acid blood.

Long. Long chapter.

;) Gab