Vargas

by Zarla

What if Johnny had not killed Edgar? How much of a difference does one person make?

23. Fate

burnt sharp burning hair
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You never ZZKKSSSKKKK sssssssssssss i-----rt-
eyes watering
"kzzxxkxk xxx only re------ that I'm

olerate KZZZZXKXXXXings...zkzkzkzk erratic behavior...--------------kz afraid
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"You're insane."

"...but..."

zzzkkzkzzz psychopath-----murdering kkzzzzzzzzz

no control ssssssssssssssssssssssssssksks afraid of you ------eason kzzzzzzzzzzkI EVER talaaaawwwkkkzzzsss zzkkzkzZKKZKZkkkill me

"...this can't be true."

"...reality...again...? I...kzzkzkzk...reality where zkkkk let...oookzxxxthat...ng ba...some fond memories?"

"Wait...KZZZZZZKKK a minute..."

"Your lack...always disgus...tened mezkzkk disapp...trust...atter ho...rd you try, I can never tzzzzzkrrrrkkzzak simply won't work. That's why iiizzkkakaxczcaopping it."

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"...the truth, hmm? I knooooozzzkkkkkw how that feZKelZKs."

watering stinging drowning let me out let me breathe i can see the surface

stop it SHUT UP you are NOT coming up now

"Say that again."

"Say whatZKKKKKKKKKsappointment kzzaaaaaaaaaaaonly emotion I feel...ong into the future...ear? ...only...ere is because of...sycho...rapkzzzzzzkped us...healthy, don't you kzzk"

"Your voice...you'reZKXX..."

"...understand, Johnny, ...estr...ame time? Soon...no be...and is that...ant? If yozkk...f you ca...alize th...et mzzk. You zzrrkkzzzzakkkkalking me zkkkkour crazy all...akingkkzzk sickkzkzkk care...kzazkakzak"

"zkkk..."

"...urprised, Johnny? Kzzzkkked at what I've keptzkzk to myself for so long? No wonder Devi left you-"

pain

"You know NOTHING about her! You don't know ANYTHING about what happened that night! What the hell, how could you say something like that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

choking

tongue

Edgar had his back to the floor, something sharp jabbing through the carpet between his shoulder blades and Johnny was above him, one hand tightly wound in his shirt and the other pressing his knife to Edgar's throat. Johnny's face was contorted with fury, he could see the trails of tears on his cheeks and he was screaming in his face.

Edgar gasped, his body jerking and his heartbeat suddenly thudding into his ears and found he could breathe again, but...

How did I...get here...

"Who are you! You can't be- He'd never- If you're one of those FUCKING parasites I swear I'll tear your throat out right now-!"

"Nny, stop!" Edgar struggled for air and choked on his own words. "Stop, what're you talking about-"

"Don't play dumb with me, I know-" Johnny closed his eyes and shuddered, his thin body shaking with exertion and then his voice was surprisingly soft. "Shit, shit, tell me this isn't...tell me you weren't...tell me you didn't..."

Edgar took this chance to try and slow his breathing and sort through his frenzied thoughts. He was in his car, he was in his car just seconds ago...what had happened? How did he get here? What happened? What was Johnny talking about?

"How dare you." Johnny's voice filled with deep hate and loathing. Edgar felt the brief warmth of a tear falling on his shirt. "How could you say that? How could you say something like that? You can't- you're not supposed to-" With a sharp inhalation through his teeth, Johnny again pressed the knife hard against Edgar's throat and Edgar instinctively leaned his head back as far as he could go. It wasn't breaking skin yet, it wasn't, it wasn't he just had to stay calm...

Johnny's voice broke. "You're different...how could you say something like that..."

Said things, Edgar didn't remember saying things-

YOU!

He could barely hear Scriabin breathing hard somewhere in the back of his mind, feel his resentment and pride.

A moment of hesitation, the briefest moment, then a surge of pride and sadistic joy that Edgar had come to know well from him.

Yes, me.

It was you! Edgar couldn't even put how he felt into words. Fury and hate and betrayal all came over him at once, obliterating rational thought and he wished that he could reach into his own mind and kill Scriabin with his bare hands. His voice was strangled and embarrassingly high. It was you, you- you- you possessed me! You took over my body! You took- You lied to me! You lied to me about- oh my God, how could you-

I think you have something more important to worry about. His satisfaction was maddening. The fact that he obviously didn't consider Edgar a threat only made Edgar angrier.

"You can't, you can't. You can't, I need you, I need the stability, I need the anchor." Johnny was looking past him at a spot a little above Edgar's head. "I need you, I need you as a person and I need the Edgar that I know and can come back to, you can't- you can't do this to me, you can't-...not all this time, it can't be, it can't, I can't have been wrong, not...everything I've done, I can't..."

Edgar realized that this was when he was going to have to tell Johnny about Scriabin. He never thought he'd ever have to, but now he could see no other alternative.

"Nny, it...I didn't..." He had to stay calm. There was a way out of this, there had to be a way out of this. "Whatever it was I said, you know- you knew I wouldn't say something like that to you." Scriabin's smug satisfaction still flooding into Edgar's mind, stoking his anger further and Edgar tried to keep it from his voice. "You could, you could tell, couldn't you? You knew something was wrong? You know I wouldn't say...whatever it was I said-"

"You don't remember?" Johnny stared at him for a moment in confusion, then again his features tightened with rage. "How can you not remember? What the fuck, Edgar, what do you mean you can't remember!"

Edgar took a deep breath.

He'll never talk to you again. I told you-

I'm going to kill you.

Oh, sure you are. You can't hurt me.

You fucking bastard, I swear to God I'm going to get you for this.

"It wasn't...me who said that."

"Then who the hell-"

"Nny...there's something that I probably should have told you a while ago-"

"No. God fuck dammit no, no no no." Johnny released Edgar, stood and began prowling around the room with his hands held tightly behind his back. Edgar stayed where he was on the floor for a few seconds to make sure Johnny wouldn't change his mind.

Johnny's voice held a familiar sense of wounded dignity, the ever-suffering martyr. "You can't, you can't fucking do this to me, Edgar, you can't fucking tell me this- fuck!" Johnny shouted at the top of his lungs and Edgar flinched on instinct. "FUCK!"

"Nny, I was going to tell you..." Actually, he never had any intention at all of doing so, but that wouldn't help him now. Edgar stood up and touched his throat where the knife had come all too close. Looked like it hadn't broken skin after all. "It's just..."

"SHUT UP!" Johnny whirled around, knife at ready and Edgar obeyed. "Fuck, fuck Edgar, don't you understand? Don't you understand anything- I've explained this hundreds of times I thought we knew, I thought you understood and you can't fucking DO this to me, Edgar! You can't fucking tell me this shit, I can't fucking DEAL with this right now!"

"What are you talking about? What do you mean-"

Johnny was close in an instant and again the knife pressed against Edgar's throat. Edgar managed to muffle his instinctual gasp as Johnny hissed in his face. "Fucking Edgar, you can't do this, you can't- you can't tell- after everything, you liar-"

"Nny, it wasn't- it wasn't me, if you'd let me explain-"

"I don't want to hear this! I don't want to hear your explanations, Vargas!" Edgar's back hit the wall hard. Johnny had been pushing him backwards and he hadn't even realized it. The edge against his throat was beginning to sting and Edgar was shaking and sweating and fairly sure that he was going to die. Once and for all, this was it, he was going to die.

I hope you're real fucking happy now.

Scriabin did not respond.

"Nny, please-"

"Stop it! Stop talking!" Johnny screamed, his eyes shut tightly and Edgar wasn't sure why his throat wasn't slit yet. "Just stop it, stop it, stop it erase it make it stop make it stop goddamn you can't tell me this, you can't tell me that you've been lying to me, you can't take this away from me-"

"Nny-"

"You can't take this away from me!" Johnny opened his eyes and stared at Edgar wildly. "You're all I have left! You're the only thing that hasn't changed in my fucked up life and I won't let you, I won't let them take this away from me, I won't let them-"

"Nny, listen, please, please just let me explain, it's not what you think-"

"Shit, Edgar! EDGAR!" Johnny shook him with his free hand and Edgar felt something warm trickling down his skin to his collarbone. He started to wheeze loudly from fear at that point despite his best efforts to stop, although Johnny did not seem to notice. "Edgar, don't you understand? Can't you understand, can't you understand, you can't- you can't change! You can't fucking change on me! You can't tell me- you can't do this to me! I need you, I need you the way you are, I can't- not now- you can't- fuck!" At a frustrating lack of words and Johnny pulled away from Edgar without warning and again stalked off to the other side of the room.

After a few seconds, Edgar put a hand to his throat cautiously. It didn't feel like a deep cut, but it was a definite indication that Johnny was losing control.

Of course...of course, that was what Johnny was afraid of...he was afraid of corruption, of change, of losing what he loved, of hating the things he loved and if Edgar changed...if Edgar had lied he lost that, he lost that anchor, he lost his anchor to reality, the one thing he could count on...

Telling him about Scriabin might destroy Johnny's world as he knew it, but more importantly, it would destroy the Edgar that Johnny knew and trusted as being Edgar, what he had based his reality, their perfection around...telling Johnny about Scriabin would have more repercussions than Edgar was ever aware of.

Edgar looked at Johnny and was again painfully reminded of just how fragile all of this was. One wrong step, one wrong word, one mistake could destroy everything they both had as Johnny would self-destruct with one unwilling passenger on board.

How could you do this to us? We could have...he never had to know, how could you...

Because I hate you both. Your little sock puppets, those appealing fake cutouts in those conversations you so treasure had a "future," but do you two? Can you two find your fucking 'perfection' when you strip away all the lies that made it seem possible? I guess we'll find out, won't we?

We'll both die, I thought you didn't want to-

Oh, he can't kill me.

"You can't change, Edgar." Johnny stood near a corner with his hands wrapped tightly around his shoulders, shivering and staring at the ground. "You understand, you have to understand, you've always been so good at that, you can't...not now. I need...I need this now, everything's gone except you and, and..."

"I haven't changed, Nny," Edgar said quietly and carefully, and Johnny stopped shaking. Edgar could see his muscles tensing, even from this far away. "What you heard, what was talking to you...that wasn't me. It's not-"

"I was trying to stop it, I was trying to stop it but they just can't stop FUCKING WITH ME-" Johnny kicked the wall savagely, making Edgar jump again. "They've got you already, they've got their sick claws in you and they're taking you, changing you, corrupting you and erasing you until there's nothing left but wet paper where you wrote down your memories-" Johnny held a hand to his forehead, nails digging into his skin. "Goddamn it, I didn't want it to happen to you, I never wanted this to happen to you, it wasn't supposed to affect you, you were never supposed to...you were different, you were good and it wasn't...it shouldn't, you didn't..."

The thought occurred to Edgar that he could blame Scriabin's existence on the lock system, say that Scriabin had come to life very recently and thus take the burden of their relationship being built on lies off of at least that much time, but...

There was no easy solution, and every answer had unpleasant consequences. Edgar again took a breath.

"Nny, he's...it wasn't you. It wasn't your fault he's...he's with me. He...he's always been with me."

Johnny turned and stared hard at him.

"What?"

"I...I have a voice. Like, like you said before, that one time. Like you have voices, I guess I...well, I have one. What happened...what he said earlier, that was him. I didn't know he could possess me like that, if I had known I would have done something-"

Oh, you can't stop me. You're powerless.

"How long?"

"I...I'm not sure exactly when it started-"

"How long!" Johnny shrieked and Edgar took a step back, his hands instinctively thrown up to protect his body. There was a pause filled only with Johnny's harsh breathing as he stared at Edgar, his knuckles white around the handle of his knife. His entire body shook in waves as he stared at Edgar with an expression he could only describe as insane.

It took a few seconds but Edgar realized that he would have to say something, regardless of how little he wanted to provoke Johnny right now.

"I-It was a gradual thing. He just...I just got used to him, I never thought this would happen..."

Johnny stared at him intently and Edgar felt that he had definitely answered the question wrong. Then, almost too fast for Edgar to register, Johnny turned to look at the floor and his body relaxed, like his screaming fit had never happened.

"So this voice of yours has always been there?"

Edgar knew that Johnny's mood swings were unpredictable, but the bleeding cut on his neck had reminded him of just how dangerous those mood swings could be. He swallowed and tried to keep his voice even. "I don't know...I'm not sure. Parts of him, anyway..."

"He was the one who...?"

Edgar nodded. Johnny stared at him for a few seconds.

"Why would he do that?"

Edgar rubbed his arm self-consciously and noticed that he was wearing his trench coat. Johnny's body had again tightened into a ready stance and Edgar hadn't even noticed it happening. Knife in hand again and the cut on his neck stung and Edgar again was at a loss for what to say. How to defuse the situation.

Thought back to the only thing he could remember at the moment, ingrained rules and guidelines as deeply memorized as his own sense of ethics. Lies beget more lies, and the entire fight was because of lies, so...so honesty was the best policy, wasn't it? They always said it was...

"...He hates you."

Johnny's face darkened and Edgar found that he hadn't stopped shaking or rubbing his shoulder.

"You never told me?"

Ha. Ha. Ha.

I swear to fucking GOD, SCRIABIN.

I am your god, you little puppet.

Edgar found his lips curled in a snarl and his words came out far angrier than he intended. "I didn't- How he feels isn't how I feel, Nny! He's everything I hate, everything I can't stand- How he feels doesn't mean anything, it's how I feel that matters because- because- It doesn't matter how he feels, he's not important-"

"Obviously how he feels is important, because he just took control of your body." Johnny's voice was surprisingly calm, despite his ready stance which only made Edgar more nervous. "This thing inside you hates me enough to possess you and then come and tell me so."

A pause that Edgar wanted to fill, but he couldn't find the words. Johnny tossed his knife to his other hand without taking his eyes from Edgar's.

"Are you telling me that I shouldn't regard him as a threat? Regard you as a threat?"

Something about that hurt in a way Edgar couldn't define. He immediately tried to push the feeling from his mind. "I'm not- I wouldn't-"

I would.

Shut up.

"I...I didn't know he could do that." Edgar ran a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. "He never told me...I didn't know. I never thought he could be that powerful, but, but it doesn't matter." Edgar looked back to Johnny and held his hands out in a hopefully placating way. The look on Johnny's face, his skepticism only reminded Edgar of who had caused this. Rage that he kept out of his voice but used to pick each of his words. "Nothing that he feels matters to me. The only feelings that matter are my own. His opinions are worthless."

Johnny looked at Edgar's fingers, stained reddish-brown.

"You lied to me."

"Yeah..." Edgar let his hands fall. Saying the words felt like something had hollowed him out. "Yeah I did."

A pause where the two stared at one another. Edgar swallowed again and found that he now wished that he hadn't gotten a large soda at the taco place.

"Some part of you..." Johnny took a few steps closer to him and Edgar didn't move away. "Some part of you, in your brain or wherever it is, some part of you hates me." Johnny jabbed a finger in Edgar's chest and Edgar stumbled back slightly. "Some part of you hates me, intensely, deeply enough to take control of your body and come here and insult me. Some part of you hates me enough to try and take you away from me."

You don't belong to him.

You shut up, I don't want to hear another word from you-

"Edgar. This is not just a white lie." Johnny's voice was still strangely calm, but Edgar could see the tendons standing out from Johnny's neck. "You hate me and you never told me."

"I don't hate you," Edgar said harshly and immediately regretted his tone. "I don't hate you, I've never hated you. I told you, he doesn't affect- he's not a part of how I feel. He's an entirely separate person, he's completely different from me. How he feels means shit to me because he's not me. He's not anything like me."

I'd think you'd be more upset.

Frankly, my boy, I couldn't care less. No matter how you insult me, I don't think this conversation will go in your favor. I've struck the killing blow and you're just vengefully spraying blood on my new shoes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Johnny grabbed the front of Edgar's shirt, knife still in one hand. Edgar startled and nearly started coughing, but managed to keep his reaction under control.

He's suddenly attacked you hundreds of times, and you're still not used to it. Why, perhaps I'm going out on a limb here, but maybe you'll never get used to it. What would that mean, Edgar?

"Why didn't you tell me before- before everything-...all of it, how much of it was real?" Johnny paused for a few seconds, then started shaking Edgar violently. "How long have you been lying to me! What else have you been lying about!"

Edgar wanted to say something in response but he could barely think at this point. Some part of him dimly recalled that being shaken like this felt kind of like when he had the breath knocked out of him. It was difficult to breathe and his body was panicking and he was fighting as hard as he could not to obey what it wanted him to do, because he knew that would make it worse.

Johnny shouting, his breath just slightly sour in Edgar's face and Edgar forced his eyes to stay open, although he couldn't see much through the blurs of motion. "God- fuck, Edgar, how am I supposed to trust you? You've got some fucking demon in you and you never even told me! You just..." Johnny hissed through his teeth for a few seconds, then his grip on Edgar loosened. "I thought you were..."

Edgar gasped for air and tried to collect his thoughts. His ears were ringing. "Nny, N-nny please try to under, understand." Another deep breath to try and calm his heart. "This, this voice, he's been with me a long...a long time. But he's never...never taken control of me before now."

Edgar closed his eyes for a few seconds. He could feel his blood pumping along the sides of his face, his temples, into his cheeks and his eyes were stinging. His body still panicking, desperately wanting to flee but he fought it, tried to keep it under control. It wouldn't help him, it wouldn't help him, he had to stay calm, he had to stay calm and rational and think this through, find the right words...

"Everything you, you ever saw me do, all of it was genuine. I, I didn't know he could take control of me...he never had before. He never influenced my behavior before. He's been there, but he hasn't..." Edgar took another deep breath and noticed that his shirt wasn't pulled tightly against the back of his neck anymore. Johnny had let him go. "Everything, everything I did was sincere. Everything I ever said...I meant. I'm still the same person I've always been. You have to believe me." Johnny glared and Edgar closed his eyes and kept trying. "You know me. You have to trust me."

A pause and then the grip on his shirt tightened again and Johnny slammed Edgar back against the wall. This time the breath really was knocked out of him.

"I can't- this changes everything!" Johnny shouted. Edgar couldn't respond now and merely choked and gasped for air desperately, his legs giving out beneath him. Johnny let him go to again stalk across the room, and Edgar fell to his knees on the floor. His lungs refused to work and his brain screamed at him, screamed at him to do something, to get help-

"This changes everything, Edgar! How can you not see that? How can you not understand!"

A successful lung-full of air and his body calmed slightly. Edgar looked up and saw Johnny standing near his boarded up window, his hands again folded tightly behind him. He could see the tiny twitches, constant motion of nervous energy that Edgar was afraid would be expressed in a more violent fashion shortly.

"There's nothing to begin with, if what we had before was a lie!" Johnny turned to look at him. Edgar was breathing deep and gratefully, finally finding the strength to push himself back off the floor and onto his feet again. He stumbled and leaned against the wall for support, his entire body still shaking with fear and adrenaline. "We started this, I explained it to you and you agreed, you agreed that we could do it, we could find the perfect...but if you were lying to me, if you were lying than there was nothing, it was all nothing!" Johnny swept out a hand and knocked a collection of empty Freezie cups and Styrofoam containers to the floor. "It was all a lie! Everything, everything you said was a lie! There was never any perfection, there was never even the chance and you never even told me..."

Edgar had gotten his breathing under control, although his legs and hands still shook. He rubbed at his throat, touched the small cut that had stopped bleeding by now.

"Nny-"

"You can't change! That was the entire point, Edgar! How can you do this- This can't happen! This can't happen, that's why I've- that's why I've worked so hard- why I've waited-"

"Do you still have faith?"

"What?" Johnny whirled around and glared.

Edgar didn't know why he said that. Somehow it just came out.

"Do you still have faith in us?"

"What the fuck."

"Do you?"

"How can you even ask me that-" Johnny stomped back over to Edgar, knife in hand.

"Because I do, Nny."

Johnny stopped.

Edgar carefully maneuvered so that the couch was between him and Johnny, talking the entire way. He wasn't sure where the words were coming from, but it wasn't like he had a lot of other ideas at this point. "This voice of mine, he hated you, he was constantly telling me that I should hate you too, that I should cut you out of my life, that I should never see you again, over and over and over day after day after day, but I didn't listen, Nny. I never listened."

Johnny looked skeptical. Edgar tried to keep his voice even, convincing, although he wasn't sure exactly how that should sound.

"I've never hated you. I've never hated you and no matter how hard he's tried to wear me down, I refuse to believe it. I still believe in this, Nny. I believe that perfection is possible, no matter what happens. I believe that you can find your happiness with me someday, you can find that perfection you're looking for. I still believe in you. That there's more than just what that system took from you, that there's something more than what you said it made you. I know there's more and I know you can become more. You can find yourself again. I still believe you can become more than what you are, just like you wanted."

Johnny stared at him with an uncomprehending look, as if Edgar was speaking another language. That wasn't the reaction that he was expecting and Edgar felt slightly uncomfortable, then thought that maybe he still hadn't made his point clearly enough.

"I still have faith, Nny. Everything's tried to get rid of it but I still have it. I'm not giving up, no matter what happens, because I believe we can do this. Do you?"

Johnny continued staring at him, knife held loosely in hand. The silence went on for long enough that Edgar felt he should say something, just to ease the discomfort of the situation.

"I'll never hate you, no matter what he says. I wo-"

There was a knock at the door.

Both turned to look at it. Johnny turned and glanced at Edgar for a few seconds, then went to open the door.

Edgar thought about this rather odd event for a few seconds, then realized who the knocker had to be.

"Nny, don't-!"

Johnny had his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at Edgar, confused.

"What?"

"Don't-"

Johnny opened the door anyway.

"I knew you'd come here!" Jimmy walked right past Johnny to Edgar, his tone both accusatory and jubilant. "I knew you'd screw everything up with him eventually!"

Edgar could feel the tension in the room increase exponentially and one look at Johnny confirmed it. Jimmy looked deeply satisfied with himself, again completely unaware of how other people were reacting to him.

"Oh God-" Johnny still stood by the door, Edgar wasn't sure if he could shove Jimmy out in time. "Jimmy, get out of here-"

Johnny stared at Jimmy with distaste, then looked to Edgar for an explanation. Before Edgar could think of one that wouldn't involve Jimmy getting grotesquely murdered, Jimmy's reedy voice again filled the air.

"What? You all sorry now that someone's actually caught you in the act and now he'll see you for what you really are? Think you can make up for your mistake? I don't think so!" Jimmy put his case down by his feet and turned to Johnny with obvious excitement. Something jingled softly as he bounced up and down. "Just watch, Johnny, just watch, this'll be so great!"

Oh God how could he make this any worse- "Jimmy, stop-"

"Who the fuck is this?" Johnny pointed to Jimmy, apparently trying his best to ignore him, and kept looking at Edgar for answers. Jimmy, in the meantime, had knelt down to open the case by his feet.

Edgar ran a hand through his hair and spoke quickly. "He's a kid, don't- he doesn't know what he's doing-"

"Of course I know what I'm doing, I'm your biggest fan!" Jimmy stood up with a knife in hand and turned to Johnny with a broad smile. Johnny recoiled visibly at the sudden attention. "I really admire your work, Johnny, which is why I'm here to help!"

Johnny looked back and forth between Edgar and Jimmy as if they both had grown a new head.

"A fan?" The words dripped with disgust and contempt, and Johnny turned to look at Jimmy with an expression that matched his tone. "A fan of what-"

No no no this isn't going well "Please, Nny, he's just- he doesn't understand-"

"I don't understand? Of course I understand!" Jimmy turned back to Edgar with the knife held at ready, deeply offended. "I understand Johnny better than anyone! I mean, jeez, how many people have YOU killed?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Johnny's voice was lowering in direct proportion to how close Jimmy was getting to Edgar. "Just who ARE you?"

"Like I said, I'm your biggest fan!" Jimmy tossed the knife from one hand to the other carefully. "I've been following you for ages! Ever since I saw your work at Taco Hell! I always loved how you'd get revenge on all those people who really deserved it! Like those guys who made fun of you at the café! You always got revenge, REAL revenge like I never could! Well, not until you inspired me to try it myself."

Johnny stared at Jimmy with his mouth open, visibly nauseated.

"But you see." Jimmy's voice was getting louder and more dramatic. "You see, when you met Ed-boy here, he really started to get in the way of things! You started thinking more and killing less! You got all serious and it wasn't as funny as it used to be and that's why I'm here, I want to get you back to the Johnny I know! The Johnny who knew that the blood was what mattered! That's what you're missing now, Johnny, and that's what I'm here to help you find! The problem of course is that Ed-boy here is in the way." Jimmy glared at Edgar with obvious jealousy and dislike. "He's got you all thinking that you're something you're not!"

Oh my god how could this get worse "Jimmy, get OUT of here!" Edgar took a step back, as Jimmy was getting entirely too close and despite how obviously he was boasting, he apparently did have some skill with the knife. He brandished it at Edgar more menacingly than he would have liked. "You're going to get killed-"

"No, that's the point!" Jimmy made an exaggerated irritated sound. "See, you just don't understand our connection! You don't understand Johnny like I do, that's why you two were fighting! If you understood him at all that wouldn't happen! I saw how you reacted to him, to what he did! You're actually afraid of him!" Jimmy sounded disappointed in Edgar and kept advancing. Edgar looked over Jimmy's shoulder at Johnny, who had shaken off his stunned stupor enough to pick up his second knife on the floor.

"You don't understand Johnny at all! Only I can truly understand him!" Jimmy cried with overly dramatic anger and before anyone could react, he pushed Edgar rather hard against the wall.

Edgar, entirely unprepared for an actual physical assault from Jimmy, had the breath knocked out of him for a few panicked seconds. He didn't think Jimmy would actually follow through with his threats, he thought he was just trying to win Johnny's favor- Edgar struggled to breathe and speak.

"Jimmy, you- Nny, don't! Don't, please, don't do anything, don't hurt him, don't-"

In seconds Edgar was again pinned on the floor, this time with a different homicidal maniac perched above him with knife in hand. "Like Nny would ever listen to you! Nny and me, we're brothers of the mind, remember? He just thinks he likes you. The only person he could ever be partners with is someone like me! Once I get you out of the way, me and Nny can become REAL partners in everything!"

"You get AWAY from him!" Johnny's voice was shrill with rage.

Edgar couldn't see Johnny from his current vantage point on the floor but hoped that he wasn't where he thought he was. "Nny, please don't hurt him, he's an idiot but-"

"An idiot!" Jimmy snarled and the knife flashed downwards. "God, Nny doesn't deserve someone like you!"

Edgar struggled to move out of the way but wasn't fast enough. Rather than embedding in his throat as Jimmy must have planned, the knife cut through the side of his neck with a sharp flare of pain that made Edgar give a high gasp. He could immediately feel blood running down his skin, no doubt helped along by the frantic beating of his heart. Oh god he hoped it wasn't that deep, he was feeling lightheaded at this point, although maybe he could blame that on the stress and fear.

He had to keep trying. He had to save him, he couldn't let him die, no matter how stupid he may have been he deserved a life, he deserved to live and Edgar had to try. "Jimmy don't, you don't underst-"

A knife blade pushed through Jimmy's eye socket with a spray of blood and retinal fluid, causing Edgar to shut his eyes instinctually against the spatter. Jimmy gave a surprised, high-pitched scream before the second blade pushed its way through the skin of one of his cheeks with a loud grating sound.

Jimmy was still screaming and Edgar's eyes were now open, although he didn't understand why as this was the last thing he wanted to watch. Somehow he couldn't look away as Johnny gave both knives a sharp twist, causing Jimmy's scream to change in volume and pitch slightly, then ripped them out of his head. Jimmy slumped forward immediately, his own knife forgotten, as his hands automatically went upwards as if to try and stop the flow of blood from his now empty eye socket. Edgar could now see Johnny standing behind Jimmy, the sheer hatred on his face something that Edgar had never seen this close. Johnny twisted one knife expertly to get a better grip and thrust it under Jimmy's chin, catching him unprepared and prompting another shocked scream. The motion continued unabated as Johnny used the momentum to throw Jimmy off of Edgar and to one side, a trail of blood marking his trajectory on the floor and Edgar's clothes.

The blood was cooling on his face, a droplet caught on his eyelashes and Edgar sat up as soon as he was able to, shaking convulsively. He stared forward at nothing, his mouth slightly open, then he looked down at the gore all over his clothes and body, still shaking.

Johnny stepped over Edgar without sparing a second glance and took the few steps required to reach Jimmy, his motions clean and precise. It was never more obvious that the act of murdering another person did not affect Johnny's behavior. He wasn't even shaking from adrenaline. Not a single moment of hesitation.

All of this accomplished within only a few seconds.

Jimmy was shivering and still screaming on the floor.

"Don't you FUCKING TOUCH HIM-"

Edgar wanted to say something, he wanted to say something but his throat had constricted and he could barely breathe. He almost couldn't see through the blood splattered across his glasses as Johnny sank his knives into Jimmy again and again.

"How dare you even think of hurting him-" Johnny's words stumbled for a moment before clarity arrived, before he knew precisely what he had to say. The eloquence that tended to show itself only in moments of pure confidence, increasingly rare around Edgar and now, now Johnny was in his element. Johnny's voice was high, shrill with fury. "How dare you even think that we're anything alike! How can you even imagine that what I do is something to aspire to! That somehow what I do has any merit outside of the justification I give it! The fact that you admire my 'work' as if it was anything more than what it appears to be makes me sick to my stomach! To have someone so shortsighted, so pitifully desperate for some kind of justification for their own hatred and inability to cope makes me want to rip you apart for an eternity! To think that you tried to kill one of the few people out there worth the time and effort to interact with merely to prove your worth to me! The idea of us sharing anything, from a mutual interest to the air in this room, fills me with so much disgust and hatred that I feel like I could vomit out my own stomach! You fucking diseased little goblin, how can you be so fucking blind-!"

Edgar couldn't really see what was happening, but he could hear Jimmy screaming. He wanted to put his hands over his ears but he couldn't move. He only shivered, shuddered, stared through stained glasses.

"Admire me? Understand me? You fucking tool, you have no idea- you don't understand what you've done, what you represent- fucking admired me, fucking killed people for no god damn reason-!" Johnny punctuated his last words with some kind of motion that caused Jimmy's scream to change an octave, although Edgar couldn't quite make out what it was that Johnny was doing and was glad for it. He could still hear the sound of metal digging and piercing through flesh and bone, the scrape and tear and splatter of death.

Johnny stopped for a few moments and Jimmy's screaming slowly died down, enough for him to try and manage some words through vocal cords somehow still intact.

"Why?"

Edgar could hear Johnny's furious panting. Could see the broken, tattered, bleeding mass that once was Jimmy try feebly to get away.

"We're supposed to..." Jimmy choked, shuddered and Edgar heard him retch and blood hit the floor. "We're so much alike..."

Johnny kicked Jimmy in the side hard enough to send him into the wall, and Edgar hid his face in his hands. The iron smell of blood was making him dizzy and he could feel it smearing under his fingers across his skin, across his glasses as he heard the sound of a knife entering flesh over and over and over again, the screaming and sobbing and crying until finally the noise came to an end.

There was a long pause after Jimmy was silent where Edgar didn't know where Johnny was or what he was doing. His hands felt stuck to his face and he was still shaking, still trying to understand what had just happened but it refused to stick, refused to become reality.

You're in shock.

Even Scriabin's voice seemed miles away.

It felt like years before he heard Johnny move, his boots coming closer, then he felt Johnny's hand on his shoulder.

"What did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Shit, I would have stopped him sooner- the fucking waste of life-"

Edgar pulled his hands from his face with difficulty and turned to look at Johnny.

He had seen Johnny torture two teenagers, he had watched the explosion and vague silhouettes of the carnage at the café, and seen glimpses of when Johnny had dealt justice to the child molester that had gone after Todd.

He had never been this close, seen someone murdered like this. He'd never had their blood cool on his skin, listened to their life ebb away at Johnny's hand. The sheer hatred and control, the lack of remorse needed to drive the blade in so many times, to willingly take someone's life without any hesitation was so incomprehensible to him, so utterly horrifying that Edgar could barely look at Johnny without recoiling. He knew that Johnny was a murderer, he knew it as a fact but he didn't know it as a reality and he had no idea that the reality could be as terrifying as this.

He had never been more afraid of him or felt more distant. He looked at Johnny and all he saw was an inhuman monster. A complete and remorseless sociopath.

A homicidal maniac.

Johnny met his eyes for a second, then looked down at his neck. He felt Johnny's fingers on his skin as he inspected the wound Jimmy left. "It doesn't look that bad, I don't think. Shit. He actually...I can't fucking believe it..."

Johnny was covered in blood.

"You killed him." Possibly one of the stupidest things that Edgar could have said, even by his own judgment, but he had to say it. Some part of him had to say it, make the lines in his head connect again and bring back some element of reality. This was like some kind of hideous nightmare.

Johnny looked at him for a minute, stared with what might have been a doubtful expression, then looked over at Jimmy's body with disgust.

"You're surprised?"

I'm not.

"Right...right here..." Edgar looked down at himself. Bone and blood and what he was sure where the remnants of Jimmy's eye and his stomach lurched. He put a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Edgar?" Johnny still by his side, his hand on his back as Edgar curled up to try and stop the nausea.

"Ggk-" Edgar took a deep breath and felt tears coming from his eyes. "I'm going to be sick-"

Johnny made a noise that sounded like the beginning of a word, but stopped. Another confused, helpless noise and he kept his hand on Edgar's back.

The stink of blood all over him, the scene replaying in his mind over and over again and he could smell that Jimmy had vacated his bowels in his death throes and Edgar heaved and lurched. He turned away from Johnny and vomited on the floor, violently and loudly. His entire body shook and contracted with the force of it, even until there was nothing left and he was dry-heaving through a torn and painful throat.

When it finally stopped after what felt like hours, Edgar could barely move. The room smelled horrible and his vision was blurry and even thought was difficult. He pushed himself to his feet with shaking arms and equally shaky legs. Edgar leaned his head against a wall, breathing hard and using it for support, and he wasn't sure how long he was there.

When he remembered where he was, who he was with, what had happened, he looked around for Johnny but could not see him.

He must have left.

Edgar looked down again and saw the blood on his clothes, his coat. With a strangely familiar shaky, panicked cry, he tore his coat and shirt off and threw them to the floor. In the process he stumbled backwards into an open room and fell. He noticed that his glasses were missing at this point, although he had no idea where they were.

Without his coat and shirt, the cold caused the hairs on his arms to stand and he started shivering again. He stared at the blurry masses in the other room, both trying to forget and remember what had happened.

I told you he was a murderer. Now that you've seen it first hand, do you understand? Do you understand why you have to get away from him?

Edgar wasn't sure how long Johnny was with him while he was busy throwing up all over his floor, but he couldn't imagine it was very long. His thoughts were disjointed and broken and connecting in weird ways and he curled up on his side on the floor and stared at the wall, shivering.

You're not handling this very well, Edgar.

Sometimes shaking so hard he could barely think.

Edgar?

Kept staring.

Edgar, come on. You're not THIS weak are you? So someone got murdered right on top of you. Big deal. You've dealt with worse, haven't you? Oh wait...no, you haven't. Oh well. Get up and get over it, you big baby.

Cold.

Edgar, cut it out.

Stop it. I know you can hear me. I know you're there, even if there is all this dead air around me. Stop being such a baby and get up.

Edgar.

...I couldn't...I couldn't save him.

Scriabin saw Edgar's moment of weakness, vulnerability, his outstretched hand and attacked.

Oh, is that what's bothering you? God, what a pathetic waste of time you are. I told you that this would happen. I told you he would die. I told you everything, I told you EVERYthing that would happen and you wouldn't listen to me. You just had to try and save the day and look where it got you! The white knight sure did save the day that time and everyone's certainly much happier for his efforts, aren't they? You and your moral superiority complex- Let me tell you something, that boy was asking for it. He didn't deserve to be saved. Jimmy deserved to die and you know it. You know it and I know it. Stop feeling bad about it.

Edgar didn't stop feeling bad, but he did stop talking.

Stared at the wall and he could hear running water somewhere. Maybe. There was a sharp, acidic smell nearby, unpleasant but he couldn't find the energy to move away. He recognized it...urine. The large soda had definitely not been a good idea.

Edgar, come on. The silent treatment doesn't suit you.

...you lied to me.

Oh, that again. Might as well come clean about it for now. Yes I did. I "possessed" you that time in the car. Well, actually, it was in the apartment first. You just "came back" in the car.

Edgar tried to process the ramifications of this but found it difficult in his current state. He thought back to the panic when he had come back, to how Scriabin had talked him through it, told him to think about something else...

...you said you didn't know what happened.

We mental parasites are just such good little liars, aren't we? Scriabin's voice was filled with loathing. Good thing my opinions don't mean anything to you, otherwise the fact I lied might be important.

I knew that bothered you...

Chalk another one up to my score then.

How could you...how could you lie to me like that? About something so important? You took over my body...my entire body and I didn't remember a thing...how could you lie about that?

Do you really want to know why, Edgar?

Will I ever?

I lied to you so I could do it again.

Edgar shivered. The air was so cold and dry but the thought of putting his blood-stained shirt back on sickened him. The thought of moving at all was difficult.

So it was all a lie then.

It's always black and white with you.

Do you have that yarn in your hair now?

...why?

Was that a lie? Was all that a lie?

Would my answer matter?

Hard to think and Edgar felt light-headed and he wondered if that cut on his neck was still bleeding.

Edgar thought softly, distantly. I thought we were close, but you were really a million miles away, weren't you...

Scriabin was silent for a little while, then he sighed. I... His voice hardened with familiar spite and contempt. Poor baby. Poor confused little Edgar, don't tell me you actually thought I cared about you. How could I?

Edgar shut his eyes tight.

How stupid can you be? To think that I would ever care about you- I don't care about you because you don't care about- I don't believe for a minute that it was all an accident, that you ever meant it when you said you were sorry. You always hurt me first. You're such a lying bastard, Edgar. You make me sick. I lied so I could take this pathetic charade of a life away from you and live it properly, and you should thank me for it.

I'll never see you again...

What? Scriabin sounded annoyed. What's that supposed to even mean?

"Edgar?"

He heard the sound of boots and he opened his eyes. Johnny walked past the doorway, then turned and came back.

"Oh, there you are."

Edgar pulled his hands away from himself and sat up. He was still shaking fitfully and his hand came up automatically to adjust his glasses even though they weren't there.

His mouth opened and closed several times before noise came out, and then it took a little while before the hoarse sounds came together into words.

"I'm sorry about..." His first response. "About that. I've never...I've never seen...anyone killed like that before. So close to me. I've never..."

Johnny looked at him, curious and uncomprehending, for a few seconds.

"He would've killed you. I know it."

Edgar stared at the vague red mass that he was sure was Jimmy in the other room.

Johnny took a few steps into the room and sat down beside Edgar. He sighed softly.

There was a long silence. Edgar was past feeling responsible for filling them now.

"Do you know what he was?"

Edgar looked at Johnny, squinted to try and make out his expression. Johnny stared at the toes of his boots.

"He was me."

There were a great deal of implications that Edgar could have drawn from that, but in his current rattled state of mind none came to him. "No he wasn't."

"Yes he was, Edgar." Johnny's voice was again, eerily calm. "He was more like me than I ever thought someone could be."

"That's not true." Edgar rubbed his arms to try and keep them warm. Some small part of him wondered if maybe his lack of a shirt would make Johnny uncomfortable, but he couldn't bear the thought of putting it back on. "The two of you aren't alike."

"How can you say that?" Johnny turned to look at him, resting his head on his knees. "You know me. You know more about me than anyone, and you're telling me that that that pathetic, stupid-...that he wasn't like me?"

"Johnny..." Edgar tried to gather his thoughts, but it was still hard to think. He was still shaking and he felt exhausted and drained, but too jittery to entertain the thought of sleep. "I talked with Jimmy before he came here."

Johnny stared at him for a little while.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't have a chance...I was going to, but...things got complicated, and I couldn't. I wanted to. I talked to him though, Johnny, and you're not alike."

"We are alike. Look at this. Look at this entire place, the basements, the bloody walls, the bathtub, all of it. Why? I kept asking myself that, I keep asking myself that still. Why?"

Edgar didn't really know why, but he was pretty sure he couldn't drop out of the conversation, no matter how much he wanted to. "You said once that...that you were acting, um...without...without motive." At least, Edgar thought he said that once.

"Yes..." Johnny stared at his boots. "But there were times when I thought I had a motive, when I thought what I did was just, deserved. You know this...you were there once. When I first...when we first met, I knew that you deserved your death, even before you had a chance to plead your case." Johnny turned and looked at Edgar again. "I was wrong then...how many times have I been wrong? All this time, I've killed and killed people, sometimes for no reason and sometimes for reasons that now seem...petty, and that pathetic child over there, he did the same thing. He may have believed in himself more fervently, truly believed that his murdering was justified, but we did the same thing. Sometimes even for the same reason...admire me..." Johnny ran a hand over his fuzzy scalp. "I had no meaning so I assigned some to myself, to try and justify it all but it's still all the same, it still doesn't mean anything. Everything I've done is just as selfish and petty as what that waste of flesh did, all of it..."

Currently, Edgar wanted to agree simply because he was having difficulty trying to put together a more intelligent response. More than anything he wanted to go home, take a shower, change his clothes, go to sleep, and wake up back before he had ever met Johnny. He wanted to erase everything that had happened, this constant buzzing current of fear that was making him shake more than the cold.

If only...

If only what?

Scriabin waiting to pounce, so Edgar didn't finish his thought.

"You have to, um..." Edgar struggled to hang on to what he was going to say. "Um...look at it a...a bit deeper than that." He looked at the fuzzy mass that once was Jimmy and shuddered. "For one thing, you're, um, aware of...this. I mean...you're aware that, uh...what you did...with everyone and everything..." Edgar shook his head at how ineloquent he was being. "That all that, um, wasn't justified. Jimmy wasn't aware like that."

"Hmm." Johnny sounded a little disappointed. Edgar guessed it was at how stupid he sounded right now, but he was just glad that he could put sentences together at all at the moment.

"Um, not only that, you have the..." Edgar noticed his eyes were closed and then realized that he'd been silent for almost a minute. He shook his head and struggled to keep talking. "Have the, um...motivation to...to change, Johnny. That's what's important. That's what makes you different. What Jimmy saw and tried to...to, um...emulate, um...was the...the surface of who you are." Edgar ran a hand through his hair, not sure of how to make this more clear. He wasn't sure if he sounded sincere. He wanted to sound like he meant what he was saying but the image of Johnny stabbing Jimmy and the complete lack of hesitation, any kind of moral qualm still horrified and sickened him. That side of Johnny that he had never seen, not that close, still dominated his thoughts and he wondered just how deep the line was drawn in Johnny between the man and the maniac. How easily one could go from one to the other.

You're still doing it. You're still making the same mistake that got you in this mess in the first place. You pathetic little boy, don't you realize that there is no such line?

Silence. He had to talk to Johnny, no matter how tired and exhausted and emotionally drained he was, he had to say something...

Because he'll kill you otherwise, isn't that right? Are you beginning to see the inherent problem in this relationship?

"Um...do you remember..." Something about the words buzzed in Edgar's head for a few seconds, but he didn't pay much attention. Stress. "Do you remember when you came to my apartment to make the noises quiet down? And, um...do you remember, uh...what we talked about...that we talked at all?" Edgar struggled to remember why he brought this up. He was usually fairly skilled at connecting threads in conversations but now almost all logical conclusions eluded him. He was depending more and more on the hope that what came out of his mouth would make some kind of sense, even if it wasn't connecting in his mind. "Do you think that, that that's what Jimmy wanted to be like?" There, that was something. Maybe he could do something with that. "That he wanted to really be you, and not just this...this, um idealized...avenging version he had of you?" Edgar hoped that this didn't just sound good because he was in an extremely rattled state. "Jimmy idolized what you did, not who you are and...and..."

His head hurt and he was shaking so much it was making him tired. His muscles protested, his nostrils felt dry and it burned when he breathed in, and he kept seeing the remains of Jimmy moving.

"Um, it's possible..." Edgar let his tongue continue. "It's possible to like a person without liking what they do..."

Johnny stared into the distance for a while, then mumbled. "That's all I have left..."

"Um..." Edgar blinked slowly, trying to keep track of the conversation. "Jimmy followed your actions and he thought that your actions, um, defined you as a person, but...but we both know that isn't true." He wanted the scene to stop replaying in his head. He wanted to stop watching Jimmy's eye burst but his mind would not cooperate, it just kept reliving the moment over and over and over again. Each replay brought to mind an emotion or detail that he'd forgotten, kept his emotions stirred up and he was still shaking and he wanted to stop. "There...there are things that Jimmy never...never..." Edgar swallowed, "never saw and that Jimmy could never...understand. He wanted you to be what he wanted you to be, and he believed that's, that's who you were." Edgar sighed, sure that he wasn't getting this across correctly. "The Johnny that I know is more than just a murderer."

How much more.

"The fact that you've worked so hard and are trying so hard to, to reach that perfection with me...that you're willing to, um, work to...to improve yourself to try and reach that point I think speaks of some, um...some kind of, uh...depth of character, um...a depth of character that Jimmy wouldn't understand. Does that make sense?"

You're getting quite good at saying things you don't mean.

Go away.

"Edgar..." Johnny's voice was quiet, but not emotionless this time. "I don't know who I am anymore...I don't know what defined me as a person. The murdering took and took and took everything I had until there was nothing but murder that was constant in my life...and now it's gone. The wall is gone and I don't know...if I can get what it took from me back."

"Well, you didn't just have murder, Johnny." Edgar shivered and kept rubbing his upper arms. "I was there too."

"That's right..." Johnny sighed. "You've stayed constant, but you're not me."

"How about who you were when..." Edgar tried to think of how to phrase what he was thinking of. He was sure there was a pleasant, simple word that would get his point across clearly, but for the life of him now he could not find it. Something...he had to think of something... "When you were with me? Who was that Johnny?" They're the same person, Edgar. God. "You didn't murder me," or more accurately, all his attempts failed in one way or another, and the key word here is attempts, Edgar. Note the s, "or murdered people when you were with me, or...well, you did but, not a lot, uh..." That sounded horrible. Edgar hoped if he kept talking Johnny wouldn't notice. "There was someone I was with then, and that's who you have. Um...no, not have. Uh...that's who you are, that's it. Or at least part of it."

Nice sentence fragments.

"I don't know. I don't know what to do with my life anymore. I don't know how to act. I don't know who I was. Do I start over? I don't want...I don't want to be that anymore." Johnny gestured at Jimmy's body. "I want to be something better...something fixed. I want to be in control of myself again, but I'm not sure if I am...I'm not sure if I ever will be."

Edgar still didn't know how to respond to Johnny's current existential crisis. All he could think of was Jimmy's death. He could still hear his screaming in his head, the sound of knife and the smell and it was all making him sick, made his stomach knot and churn and his thoughts scatter.

"I think, um...with what you're doing...and everything, everything that's...um...happened today, it's a lot to...to deal with, and I don't know...no, I think that it might be hard, but...um, but I think we'll pull through."

You don't think that. Certainly not now.

"And you..." Johnny looked at Edgar. "You've got...you've got everything happening to you now...all this voice shit...what does that mean? How can you believe that if that's going on?"

He shivered a little, dug deep for something intelligent to say because he knew this was important, he had to say something right. He had to do this right, he had to handle the conversation right, and he had to find the words, the right words somewhere...

"If you lose faith, then you have no hope at all." The phrase reminded Edgar of something very old, but he wasn't sure what it was. His body tensed up, sudden anxiety that he struggled to push away. He turned to look at the wall. "That's how I look at it, anyway..."

"Do you think we'll survive?"

"I think so."

Can't really answer that question any other way, can you, stupid?

You're getting childish... It was difficult for Edgar to find the energy to keep speaking, internally or otherwise. Why?

Who knows. Your mind is a mysterious thing, isn't it?

"Do you feel okay?"

"Actually..." Edgar pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin stuck on contact, sticky and cold. "I'm a little lightheaded."

"Oh, that reminds me." Johnny dug in the pocket of his sweater and pulled out a roll of gauze. "I thought you might need this for your neck. It's not that deep, but you should still cover it."

"Thank you." Edgar took the roll and began to wrap it around his neck. He wasn't sure where the cut was exactly as things were a little fuzzy but he felt better doing it. There was something very important...something...

The image of Johnny as the murderer, the monster kept coming to mind and Edgar desperately wanted to think of something to make it go away. To reassure himself that...

What? That there is no monster? There's always been a monster, you twit, you've just refused to see it. You can't wish it away now. Can't hide it under a veil of well-meaning dementia now, can you? What are you going to do with that monster, Edgar? What are you going to do with the homicidal maniac part of your crazy boyfriend?

Edgar didn't even feel up to arguing that particular point with Scriabin again. He just needed reassurance of...something. He wasn't sure what, because like it or not Scriabin did have a point, but...something, he wished his thoughts weren't so scattered. Something...

"You know, Nny..."

"What?"

Edgar was on to something but he wasn't sure what. He decided to just follow the string and see where it lead. "Before, you were saying you couldn't trust me...you could never trust me again. That means..." What did that mean? God, he had to focus. He had to try and keep focused. His head still throbbed and he was sure it was Scriabin's fault somehow, like he was kicking the walls with a hollow sound over and over again, furious and

and

Johnny was staring at him.

"What does that mean?"

Edgar had no idea how long he had been quiet, but it was long enough for Johnny to prompt him and that was a very bad thing. He winced, his fingers pressing too hard on the cut on his neck for a few seconds, and he struggled to remember what he was talking about. The initial sharp ache when he pressed too hard but he found his hand returned to his neck and the ache kept him thinking at least. He had to think. "You could never trust me again." That was one of the things he said before. "That means..."

The issue here isn't him trusting you. That actually might have a sliver of a chance of happening. However, the reversal I don't think-

Why did he mention trust, why, why... "That means we...we could never reach that perfection you wanted, right?"

Was that what he was trying to say before?

Johnny made a non-commitible noise in response to Edgar's question.

"But even..." The scene kept replaying in his head, going back earlier and earlier to the thousands of chances he must have had to prevent it. He must have had a chance and missed it, if only he had or hadn't... "Even at that point when you thought..." Which point? Could he have pushed Jimmy out of the way? Moved to protect him? Said something? Fought back? Stopped Johnny when the first blade sank in? Stopped him from answering the door, stopped Johnny from, from yelling or...

"When you thought...everything had broken down-" Which everything? What everything? Thinking back further and further, to the argument that started it, the thousands of better responses to Johnny's questions and accusations that now ran through his head. The argument, when Johnny screamed and his knife got too close, and said that, that everything was... "When you thought it was over, that...that the entire thing was ruined and I'd never be what you wanted me to be, when you gave up on me and attacked me and it was over, it was all over..."

It kept playing in his head, it kept playing with Jimmy kneeling over him, knife held at ready, the near-miss of the first attempt at taking Edgar's life and then, and then oh god, god was his memory making it worse or trying to make it better, Edgar couldn't even tell, was there more or less blood-

"When..." Edgar swallowed, feeling sick again and his throat stung horribly. Jimmy above him, knife raised for the successful strike this time and then...

"When...when Jimmy...a-attacked me..." Another swallow and Edgar's throat felt dry and thick, closing off and it was hard to breath. "You... you s-" He choked. His body spasmed in a violent coughing fit, doubling over and Edgar raised one hand to cover his mouth without thinking about it, kept his eyes shut tight.

"You s-saved me."

Johnny didn't say anything for a while, and the only sound was Edgar's pained wheezing as he tried to recover. He could not recall a time in his life when he had ever felt this terrible, physically and emotionally.

Edgar opened his eyes and stared directly ahead, trying to keep his train of thought. "You...saved me and..." His body rebelled against the word, the concept and he shut his eyes tightly again. "If you couldn't trust me...if the whole thing was over, ruined, destroyed like you thought then..."

Then what? It hovered just out of reach, so close and he just needed to focus, he needed to keep focused.

"It wouldn't matter if I died or not." That was something, but Edgar wasn't sure if he was understanding his own words at this point. "It wouldn't matter 'cause it'd be over...do you know what that means?"

Edgar meant the question in all seriousness, as he had an idea of what it meant himself but in his current state he wasn't sure.

Johnny still didn't say anything.

"Well, what I think it means is..." Edgar shivered again and found he couldn't stop. The shaking was rhythmic, almost comforting. He held on to his knees until his knuckles turned white and the muscles in his arms and hands burned. "What I think it means is..."

Jimmy screamed and screamed and screamed.

"What I think it means is..."

I know what it means.

"What I..."

Edgar caught some movement at the corner of his eye, but he didn't turn his head.

"What I think it means is..." Focusing too much on the words, making them a rhythm too. Can't do that, think clearly. This sentence has an end.

Edgar, are you actually talking to yourself for once? What an odd thing to do.

"What I think it means is that..." One more word, on the right track. "What I think it means is that you have faith too." Now that the sentence had an end, it seemed almost anti-climatic to him. Somehow Edgar expected something more. Had to go with it now, had to keep following the thread.

"Even if you don't know it. It means you have enough faith in us so that even when we fight and even after you say you can't trust me again you still think we can reach it, we can reach that perfection." Talking fast and Edgar hoped he was making sense, that letting words go by without more consideration wouldn't be a mistake. "You believe it enough to s-...save me, even after you said everything's all ruined." Edgar thought Johnny said that, anyway. "I think you believe that we can do it."

You don't think that at all, you little liar.

"Interesting..." Johnny didn't sound interested at all. That was a little unnerving.

I'm not lying.

You sound so desperate. It won't win any points with me.

I don't want points from you, I don't want anything from you. Edgar's rattled emotions began to refocus, to remind him of why he had even ended up here in the first place, and the consequences that had been overlooked when Jimmy had...

Why...

You know me better than that.

I don't know you at all.

Thank you, my dear, for so beautifully illustrating my point.

"Nngh." Edgar pressed his hands to his head as the throbbing intensified. Johnny moved but didn't say anything, and Edgar didn't see exactly how he moved. Edgar tried to remember what had happened between his car and Johnny's house, but it remained stubbornly blank. There wasn't even a hole in his memory, a black period he could fill with something else. Just from his car to the house with no noticeable jump in time...like two pieces of film edited together.

What did you say to him?

What you never could.

"Nny...when...when I wasn't...myself, earlier...when he was in control, what did he say to you?"

Johnny was silent for a few seconds, staring at Edgar hard. Confused, afraid, some negative emotion, that Edgar knew for sure. He apparently had reminded Johnny of the other problem that now faced them.

Johnny shook his head. "This voice of yours...it can possess you now. Take complete control of your body, like some kind of meat-puppet. Working the strings..." Johnny turned to look at him. "You didn't know that he could do that until now. You didn't know that your body could be so easily taken out of your control. You said you don't remember what happened, well then, he could have been doing it this whole time. How do I know? How do you know? This changes everything."

"It might..." Edgar sighed. He was in no state of mind to try to refute Johnny's points intelligently at the moment. "I don't know. I can't say for sure. I think, though, I think that we'll be okay." He wasn't sure where that sentiment had come from.

"Why?"

"I just...I just do."

Or do you?

"Edgar," Johnny said and Edgar felt his muscles tense at his tone despite himself. Scriabin may have had a point, he had been feeling more complacent around Johnny in recent times. Now almost every motion and change in tone spelled potential death and Edgar's nerves couldn't take much more of this. "I want to know more about this voice of yours."

Edgar really didn't want to talk about Scriabin, especially not now.

"What do you want to know?"

Johnny didn't notice Edgar's reluctance to discuss this. "Everything. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything about him, what he is, where he came from. I have to know so I'll be able to protect you."

A stumble, and Edgar could tell by how soft Johnny's last words were that he hadn't intended to say that much.

"Protect me from what?"

"Your voice first. I want to know."

Edgar did not feel like he was in the position to argue at this point.

"Um..."

You don't seem as worried about me talking about you as you were with Devi.

I couldn't care less about Nny or what he thinks. He can't touch me. Nothing can touch me anymore.

Hubris. The thought crossed his mind, not necessarily directed at Scriabin but he heard it anyway.

Call it whatever you want, doesn't change the fact that your body is my elaborate puppet now, you tool, Scriabin said with more anger than he probably intended. Nothing you say matters to me anymore. I know how to do it and I'll keep doing it, and you can't stop me.

An entirely different problem for a different time, and Edgar sighed and shook his head. He still felt cold and dizzy and God he wanted to go home.

God, he wanted to go home.

"His name is Scriabin."

"Like from that stupid pretentious movie?" Johnny wrinkled his nose in disgust, and Edgar blinked.

"You saw it?"

Johnny shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Why that movie? It was such pop-culture garbage with a thin veneer of philosophy to try and make it seem deep."

"Look, I don't know." Edgar was having difficulty separating Johnny's attack on the movie from an attack on him personally. "I never saw it. It just- when Todd gave me the action figure-"

"You talked with Squee?" Johnny seemed a bit more interested now. "Are you friends with him?"

"I visited him, yeah," Edgar said, distracted. "He's a good kid. I had to take him home once but he's okay, last I saw of him anyway."

Johnny smiled genuinely at this. He seemed somewhat relieved.

"I was wondering how he was doing lately."

"Um, anyway, he gave me the action figure and that's where the name came from." Edgar's head throbbing harder and he pressed a hand to his forehead. "I thought you saw it, it's in my room."

Johnny was quiet for a little while. When he spoke again his voice was dark and low. "It didn't fit."

Edgar had no idea what he was supposed to read into that, so just continued, hoping that the faster he told the story, the faster this could be over with and then...

What? You'll just go home? Do you think you can just go home after this? That's not why you're here.

"Yeah, well...that's where his name comes from." One part down. "I think, um...in terms of where he came from, I think that he's always been...well, been with me in one way or another, but he just started, um...talking after I met you." This felt like torture. Faster, faster, cut corners and get this over with. "Then he just gradually got louder and louder and...apparently he's a lot more powerful than I gave him credit for..."

"This is the first voice you've ever had?"

"Yeah...I've never..." Edgar paused to process how casually Johnny asked his question. "I've...uh." Edgar shook his head. "Um, he's the only voice I have, so...you don't have to worry about that, or anything..." Edgar wasn't even sure if that was an issue, but why not be safe.

"Hmm." Johnny looked thoughtful. Edgar was surprised that he wasn't dead right now, although with how bad he felt, he didn't think being dead would feel much different. "So it isn't a long-term thing like with me then...what's he like?"

"Scriabin..." Edgar's head was pounding and he felt like the blood was draining from his fingers. The floor was slowly shifting up and to the left, despite his best efforts to convince himself that it wasn't. "He's...he's nothing like me." The most important part.

What's that supposed to mean?

"He's..." attractive. "Vain, arrogant, selfish, manipulative," confident. "Sadistic...a compulsive liar," a realist. "A pessimist..."

"So he antagonizes you?" Johnny's ease with the subject reminded Edgar that hearing voices telling him what to do wasn't unusual for Johnny, and that was the last thing he wanted to think about right now.

"Not...exactly. He's a liar but...there are times when I really feel like..." He didn't want to say this, want to say it, admit it, validate it by letting someone else give an opinion, make it real. Not this, not this, everything he'd done wrong glaring him in the face and he wanted to stop talking, he wanted to lie and say something else. "He's told me..." There was no way to phrase this, to erase it, and he had to say something, he had to tell Johnny something but what, how to explain this right without making him feel like he had made such a huge mistake, that he really was this gullible. "He'd tell me that...sometimes it seems like...he cares about me." Physical pain and Edgar wasn't sure what caused it. "I don't know. Things have happened...and maybe he's fought things for me, or something...? God, I can't even tell, he just...all this time..." He lied, he lied, he lied, he lied

What the fuck did you expect?

"I can't believe he never...I mean, before it was like...maybe he wanted to be my friend or something." Edgar growled and pressed his hands against his temples until he felt his arms shaking. "I just...I just, what he says makes sense but I don't want...sometimes he's..." The thought of their false childhood came back to Edgar, and he let the pressure go. His body thanked him with a surge of relief. "Sometimes...I want to help and protect him too, sometimes I feel like...like he's so close to me, like he's..."

Edgar buried his head in his arms, curling tightly into himself.

"And...and he never told me. All this time and he never...never told me. I don't know why, I don't know why I believed him, why I let him- he lied to me before about everything, I don't know why I didn't..."

Edgar took a deep breath. "I...this isn't the first time that he's possessed me. I think he did it once earlier, but..." Edgar gritted his teeth. "He lied to me. He told me he didn't know what happened, that I had just blacked out and who knew what happened and...and I believed him. God, I can't believe-! I just...I don't know what he wants from me, I don't know if he was lying about protecting me, if he was lying about that attack that he fought off, he was lying about everything just so he could gain my trust and steal my body away from me-"

"I see," Johnny said, and something about his voice made Edgar believe him. Edgar's furious shaking subsided a little.

"He always lied to me," Edgar said, his voice a little more under control. "He's never really liked you. He was always fighting with me about you, about what I should do about you..."

Johnny made a soft humming sound, but didn't say anything.

"He thought you were...well, that you were dangerous, and that I should stay away from you..." Edgar closed his eyes. "I didn't listen though."

"Why not?"

Edgar didn't expect Johnny to interrupt him, and he paused. "I think...there were more important...no, I think that..."

Tell him the truth, tell him that you were afraid he would kill you for it. Go ahead, while we're being so honest.

"I think that...there were..." Edgar couldn't find the right words. "I'm sorry, I'm a little dizzy. Something like...there was something more important than being afraid, than me being afraid...something like that. I'm sorry, my head is spinning right now. I-"

"Why didn't you stay away from me? I've been meaning to ask you...you remember when we had that...argument, right before I died?"

"Mmhmm."

"You came to look for me...you found me after the gun went off. After everything I had said and done. Why?"

Edgar couldn't remember why now. He wasn't sure if he even had a reason back then, it was just something...something he had to do. "I...I had to. I thought you were hurt, I had to go see if you were okay, I couldn't just leave you-"

"Why?"

His head still throbbing and Edgar felt the strange desire to start crying, although he didn't know where it came from or why. He forced it down deep and tried to stop shaking. "I don't know." How can you ask me that? Why can't you understand-

Hello? He's CRAZY, Edgar. CRAZY. How many times must we go OVER this?

"Why do you keep talking to me? I keep talking to you because you're sane, and you're nice, and I like you. Why do you keep talking to me?"

"I don't know!" Edgar's voice broke and he kept his face hidden. His head ached and he wanted to go to sleep or take some aspirin or something to make this pain stop. He could feel his heart beating in his ears and he was getting so tired of it. "Ngh, God, I feel like you need me. Shit, I mean, I like you too. God, my head hurts..."

Johnny didn't say anything and Edgar didn't look up to see his expression. He was sure that his insinuation that Johnny needed anyone right now would not go favorably.

"I do need you," Johnny said thoughtfully. "I wonder if it's for the reason you're thinking of?"

"Do you have any aspirin?"

"Your head hurts?"

He couldn't do this, he couldn't do this, it had to stop. It had to stop, it had been pounding and pounding and pounding. "Yes."

"Hmm. Not now...Edgar, that voice, Scriabin, he's always been there?"

Fuck! God- rrgh-

Was that directed at me? I don't think it was!

"Yeah, I..." Edgar forced his jaw to unclench and took a deep breath. "I think so. Pretty much."

"So the Edgar I've come to know..."

"It's always been Edgar and Scriabin. Nothing's really changed, not the way you think." Edgar didn't think Johnny would understand the concept he was trying to get across, but he wasn't sure how he could phrase it any better.

"No, Edgar." Johnny's voice had an edge of annoyance in it. "Things have changed. Everything, everything about you, everything we ever talked about, everything we did, all of it...just erased. All gone. Meaningless. Built on sand."

Edgar sighed deeply.

"So you don't have any aspirin then."

"The question is where these sand castles were constructed, and what will happen to them now." Edgar groaned as Johnny's voice leveled into his typical ranting tone. "I didn't know, you didn't know that it had gone this far. The thing though is that regardless of that fact, we've come too far and you've come too close. You've touched something you shouldn't have, and as a result you're in something you shouldn't be. Possibly because of me." Johnny sounded strangely unconcerned with this potential responsibility. "A touch and a change, and now there's a mark, and there's something more important here. There's a matter of your mind, Edgar, that precious thing that separates us from the other human filth. It's your mind that's kept you alive, Edgar, it's your mind that's kept me with you, and I think it's your mind that inspires my 'faith', as you put it. Whether or not the mind you presented to me is the reality is a difficult question, one that we'll have to explore more in depth when we have the chance, but there's a more immediate threat we should be focusing on. Has Scriabin changed at any point recently?" Something about how easily Johnny said Scriabin's name made Edgar feel sick. "Has he been acting differently? Making his toy move, something like that?"

"Why?" Edgar struggled to ignore the throb of blood through his temples. "What does it matter?"

"This is important, Edgar. I have to know this."

Edgar at this point remembered something that Johnny had mentioned but hadn't elaborated on. "What, to protect me from whatever it is?"

Johnny didn't say anything, so Edgar continued.

"What is it that you want to protect me from? What's coming after me? I think if we both know we might have a better chance."

Your best protection would be to get away from him.

"Do you remember when I said that I felt like my actions were getting out of my control?" Johnny eventually said. Edgar made another affirmative noise. "That wasn't the only thing that the system took from me...it took my voices away from me. I've always heard voices, at least, as far back as I can remember, but it took two voices that I'd had for a long time and...twisted them, changed them just enough so that they were moving me along the path it wanted. Manipulating me for their own gain."

"You think I'm part of this system now?" Edgar thought as much, but he wasn't sure if he and Johnny had ever discussed this previously.

"Probably," Johnny said with some reluctance. "That's why I'm worried that...it might be trying to do the same thing to you as it did to me. Take everything away from you until you're just action with no meaning behind it..."

"Drive me insane..." Edgar mumbled.

Johnny paused, then gave Edgar one of his broken smiles. Edgar hadn't seen one of those in a long time, and they still made him shudder. "I think I was insane before the system really got to work. It still didn't help though."

Edgar hid his face in his arms and tried not to throw up again.

"But you, you're not insane. You're not insane like I was before, so it's going to have to try harder with you, to twist your mind around and take it all away. Make you think you're doing what you want, hiding the fact that you're working as its slave for some fear or..."

Deep breaths, in and out.

"What it might try to do with Scriabin is that it might try to take him over, to shift him just enough so that you won't notice, but he'll really be working against you. Trying to hurt you. The fact that he possessed you is a bad sign. To me, it seems that the system might be increasing its efforts, to try and get you under its control faster. Scriabin may already be working against you as we speak, a servant of the lock system."

Please stop saying his name.

I'M NOBODY'S FUCKING SERVANT. I FUCKING-

Don't yell. Please.

"Do you understand the issue here, Edgar? My concern is that my proximity to you is..." Johnny paused, searching for a word. Edgar couldn't move in fear of jolting his stomach just enough to break his weak hold on its contents. "My proximity to you is detrimental to your mental well-being. I've noticed your odd behavior, and I believe I may just be making it worse for you. That's why I wanted to spend some time away from you, to make sure. But then...then you came back."

Edgar wanted to vocalize the internal ache and pain, the discomfort his body was experiencing, but he kept it limited to his throat constricting, but no air coming through. He wanted to go home, he wanted to go home, go home and go home and

"I've elaborated to you before my fear of decay. The inevitable goodbyes and bad memories and tarnish on the surface of what should be a beautiful memory. You can never forget the mistakes, no matter what the beauty of it is. This is why I want to kill you, but now I don't know who I've really been working with, or what future there may possibly be. You lied to me, you lied to me about who you were and who I was talking with, and that changes things. That ruins things, just like I was trying to avoid. It ruins everything, and the future only seems to speak of further ruin if this process can't be reversed. I wanted to reverse it, Edgar, I wanted to get that perfection we wanted, but you were lying to me this whole time, and now..."

Something about Johnny's wounded, self-aggrandizing tone, the passive-aggressive implications in it, his inability to simply understand what Edgar was trying to get across, pushed Edgar into action. At least, Edgar thought it was his own action, although it all happened so quickly it was hard to tell. The fact that now he couldn't be completely sure that what he was doing was his own decision...

Edgar lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at the floor and he clenched his hands into fists. With the last remnants of strength, he shouted, "Then why don't you just kill me now and get it over with? If everything's as fucked as you say it is, then what's the point! You might as well just kill me and- and cut your fucking losses!"

His head ached with the increase in volume and Edgar again buried his head in his arms, this time groaning beyond his control. God, he didn't mean that. He wanted to go home and go to sleep and forget, just stop thinking for two seconds, stop seeing Jimmy's death over and over and over again-

Cold touches across his skin for the briefest moment, then Edgar was on his back on the floor, Johnny again in position above him to strike the killing blow. His knife held ready and he stared down at Edgar with what wasn't a hateful expression, which was what Edgar was expecting. He wasn't sure what the expression on Johnny's face was, although he guessed that maybe it was

No it isn't. It's not regret and it's not hesitation.

Then what is it?

He's not my boyfriend. You figure it out.

He's not my-

Edgar was almost too tired to truly react, although his body tried gamely to muster up a sufficient panic reaction. Johnny's eyes gleamed and Edgar guessed that maybe he'd start crying at some point. Maybe his death really would affect Johnny somehow, although that would mean that he had stopped seeing Edgar as a concept and actually began seeing him as a person.

You know what? You don't think he can do that. For all your defending of him, of his decisions, of your pseudo-relationship, deep down you don't think that he can ever do that. That he'll ever look at other people as anything more than semi-human, and that you'll ever even make it that far. And you wonder where I get it from.

He stared into Johnny's eyes without blinking, without reacting. His face lax and he just watched Johnny, looked into his eyes for those depths that they were said to contain and he just saw his eyes, saw emotion he couldn't identify because he was just no good at this.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, kept eye contact and didn't move. His heartbeat sped up, his body shivered in a feeble attempt at flight, but he didn't say anything.

He looked into Johnny's eyes and didn't see anything.

Look at me, Edgar thought to no one in particular. Look at me. Someone in particular now. This is it. I'm done.

You just think you're done, Scriabin said in an odd voice.

Everything's done. Edgar blinked slowly, and when his eyes were closed he could feel his heartbeat under his eyelids.

This is my time.

No it isn't.

Johnny panted above him, although why he hadn't struck yet was beyond Edgar. Johnny breathed hard, his hand shaking just slightly and he stared at Edgar with something that Edgar guessed might have been close to fear. Something like that, although it was hard to say for sure. His arm quivered and Edgar was sure that any minute now, the nightmares he'd long had would come true and this time, Johnny would kill him.

He won't kill me.

Edgar felt like he should say something meaningful about what was going on, but he found his mind blank and decided that silence would work just as well.

The knife descended and his body flooded with pain. A quick rush and the tingle of blood, nerves, skin reacting to the new wound. Johnny's knife was deep in the flesh of his upper right shoulder and that was all Edgar could think of logically.

He wanted to remain stoically silent but it takes a rare kind of man to stay quiet when they get stabbed in the shoulder, and Edgar was not that kind of man, regardless of what he thought about the matter.

He screamed, short and agonized and snapped back into a hissing groan through his teeth. His eyes shut tight, tears beginning and even though his teeth remained tightly gritted together, his pained cries were quite clear.

He gasped, quick and fast and tried to keep his hoarse whines to himself and he looked at Johnny. Johnny leaned close over him, his hand still tight on the grip of the knife, his eyes focused on Edgar's face.

Edgar's resolve broke and he gasped out another loud, shaky cry to one side as his jaw released. Without thinking, words came to him, simple and strangled. "Oh fuck- fuck- God, oh God, fuck...!"

The next thing that Edgar knew was that both Johnny's hands were on his face, turning him to face him properly. Edgar panted, stared at Johnny in confusion and waited for his hand to return to his knife, to strike again.

Edgar wanted to say something, anything, but he could only make a gurgling, scared sound.

"Edgar." Johnny held on tight to Edgar's face and stared him directly in the eyes. He looked dead serious in a way that still seemed inappropriate for the situation, as much as Edgar was in the state of mind to think about such things.

Edgar tried to say something, stopped to gulp down air and try to think past the screaming in his mind, the pain that kept burning and pulsing through his upper body.

"What?" It wasn't the most intelligent thing that Edgar could have said but it was his instinctual reaction to the question. He tried to arch his neck and lean his head back, to move to do something to stop the pain, but Johnny wouldn't let go.

A pause where Edgar could feel his heart pumping blood out of this new hole in his body. Johnny stared and this time, Edgar could see that at least he felt conflicted. That much seemed clear. Thoughtful, expressions flickering quickly, Johnny considering something important and Edgar remembered this, remembered this somehow from long ago when he was staring death in the face and then, and then against all logic, against all logic somehow it had reconsidered...

"Edgar," Johnny said, as if this somehow explained everything. Edgar stared at him desperately, wishing to anything that had the power or inclination to listen to stop this agony.

"What?" Edgar's voice cracked halfway through the word.

Another slight pause and Edgar gave a keening cry through his sobs for breath. If there was any mercy God please

Johnny smiled slowly at Edgar, the tips of his fingers digging into Edgar's skin just slightly.

"Vargas." Johnny backed away, let his hands slowly move away from Edgar's face. Edgar stared, confused and approaching delirious. He still gasped desperately for breath while Johnny stared him serenely, the same twisted smile on his face. "Edgar Vargas."

"Yes!" Edgar shouted, then gritted his teeth together and hissed. "Yes, yes, yes!" He was sure he wanted to say more than that, but his tongue would only cooperate with that word.

Johnny kept watching him for another moment more, another lifetime and then he reached out one hand and took hold of the knife's handle. His smile not faltering in the least, he yanked it out of Edgar with a spray of blood. Edgar, completely unprepared, gave a shocked scream of pain and immediately pressed his hand over the wound. He stared at Johnny, confused and lost.

"Edgar Vargas." Johnny held the bloody knife in one hand, touched the tip with one free finger. Still smiling, eerily, and he looked at the blade.

"Ugh God," Edgar gasped, air not coming in quickly enough. "Oh God m'bleeding to death oh fuck-"

He wasn't aware that he was speaking out loud. Johnny tilted his head at him and his smile didn't falter.

"You won't bleed to death, Edgar." His voice strangely cheery for the topic.

"Why not?" Edgar screamed at him, his entire body shaking now and the edges of his vision were going black, he was losing focus and dizzy spinning going

Johnny swayed slightly from side to side, smiling serenely at Edgar as if he couldn't see what he had done. "The mystery of Faith."

"Oh god what the fuck-" Edgar attempted to curl into a ball, but Johnny's position didn't let him accomplish this. "I'm going to, I'm going to, agk-"

Johnny closed his eyes, both hands on the grip of the knife now and he held it above Edgar's chest. He angled his face just slightly upwards, still swaying from side to side and still smiling.

Edgar attempted, as best he could, to move out of the way, but he had no chance. He couldn't breath, his air was getting sucked away from him and he was drowning, his head was going to explode and the pain from his shoulder was devouring his body whole. Oh God, God please, please someone

Back and forth, back and forth.

"Edgar Vargas," Johnny said in a pleasant, jovial tone. Edgar took a deep breath to say something but must have made a mistake as he then went limp, blind, deaf, and gone.