Johnny "Wheels of Steel" Velazquest was a bruiser. When he was younger, a group of boys used to pick on him as he made his way home from school. They looked a lot like the bullies from that movie with the sewer clown (you know the one) and they were just as mean. One time, they stripped Johnny down to his underwear and called the cops. That was bad enough, but they told the five-oh that Johnny was high on PCP and had a gun, so instead of one cop showing up, the friggin SWAT team turned out. There was a helicopter, assault rifles, more cop cars than you could shake a stick at, and the din of shouted orders and blaring sirens. It was like having five stars in GTA only much, much scarier because if he got clapped, he wouldn't spawn at the nearest hospital ready for round two.

Another time, they hung him upside down from the flagpole. One of them said they were "Lynching" him. Johnny would call racism on that if the one who said it wasn't blacker than he was. The kid's name was Twan and he was the worst of the lot. Sometimes he'd run up on Johnny, slap him in the back of the head or pull his hair, and then run off laughing. Johnny didn't understand people and why or how they could be so needlessly cruel. Look, if you're in a war and you massacre an entire village because you're paranoid, scared, and running on two minutes of sleep, he could kind of understand that. He could kind of understand a lot of terrible things. I mean, you can call something "inexcusable" and be right, but there's usually a rational - though often twisted - logic behind it. Then there are the guys like Twan who do things seemingly just to do them. Was he a psycho? A sociopath? What explanation was there?

None, it would seem, save for sadism. Johnny had long heard it said that "kids are cruel" and he wondered often about that. Was it true? Did most kids not yet have a solidly formed sense of right and wrong, good and evil…a whole frigging conscious? He thought he did, and Lincoln did too, but a lot of kids were downright sadists. Their consciousness was like an ill-fitting garment that they would have to grow into. Until then, watch out.

Anyway, these kids dogged Johnny every step of the way for a while. Naturally, Johnny was kinda weak and timid so he took it, his only protest being a whiny "Stoooooop." Like a future school shooter, however, his rage grew with every taunt, every kick, every sick joke. Anger filled his chest like fire and his dreams turned violent and blood soaked. He fantasized about getting back at them, about blowing them out so totally that they ran crying to their mommies. "Mommy, mommy, Johnny just punked me in front of everyone, I need boob milk for my burned widdle butt." When he played video games, he pictured his bullies' faces on the bodies of his enemies, and he killed them with great gusto and glee.

Things finally came to a head one afternoon when he was walking home from school. He had his books hugged to his chest and a fresh paper bag pulled low on his head. He was looking fly and really feeling himself that day.

Enter the bullies.

They surrounded him like a school of sharks, all older and bigger than him. Twan was munching on a hotdog filled with mustard, relish, chili, ketchup, and cole slaw. It looked disgusting. Even more disgusting was the baby vomit like mixture of white, green, and yellow painting his lips and chin. Johnny's nose wrinkled and in that moment, he decided that he would never, ever, eat another hotdog again, no matter how long he lived. "Sup, bag boi?" Twan asked.

"N-Nothing," Johnny said, all shy and scary.

"You look hungry," Twan said.

"No, actually, I just ate, but -"

Without warning, Twan slammed the messy hotdog into Johnny's face as hard as he could. Johnny stumbled backwards and tangled over his own feet, landing hard on his butt with a teeth-clattering jolt. Twan's cronies threw back their heads and laughed, and Twan put his hands on his hips with a proud little grin. Clow slaw, mustard, and ketchup dripped down Johnny's face and an onion had lodged itself in his nose, burning his eyes and the soft, sensitive insides of his nostrils. He wiped goo out of his eyes and stared up at his tormenters with seething hatred. They laughed and laughed, and Johnny got madder and madder until he suffered a full blown out of body experience, He jumped to his feet and, gritting his teeth, proceeded to beat the ever loving bleep out of his bullies. He tore through them like a man possessed, his hands flying a mile a minute and his blows producing snot and slobber.

Just like in his daydreams, Twan and his little buddies ran off in tears, cries of terror trailing behind them like the sweetest music. A group of Royal Woods mobsters, dressed in tracksuits and looking like extras from the set of The Sopranos, came running over. "Jeez, kid, ya whacked those mooks," one of them said, amazed.

"He was like a frickin' paper shredder," another said.

Johnny basked in their adoration. That was how he got the nickname Johnny Shreds. That sounded like the title of a faux edgy Disney XD show from the late 2000s, but he wore it with pride and honor anyway. He strutted around like the big man on campus and pounded his chest to scare off lesser bullies.

In the years since, Johnny hadn't had to open a can on very many people, but he was totally willing to when need be. He was what he would call "a fighter" in body, mind, and spirit. He didn't let anything keep him down and he always came through, no matter what happened to him or what precarious predicament he found himself in.

It was a given, therefore, that he would bounce back from the epic beatdown that he'd caught from the Loud girls.

And an epic beatdown it was.

It was so bad that he couldn't remember exactly what happened before it. Every time he tried to recall it, an impenetrable fog choked his brain and his head started to ache monstrously. He had forgotten what he'd done to earn such a vicious attack and no one had told him (though he didn't ask), but he had the sneaking suspicion that whatever it was, he didn't deserve the punishment the Loud girls had meted out. Even now, after almost a week in the hospital, his body was a patchwork of welts, bruises, and lacerations, and various muscles and joints screamed with pain if he moved wrong. His hair had gone snowy white, just like Lincoln's, and one of his eyes was red, watery, and bulged slightly from its socket. The doctors didn't know if either of those things were permanent and Johnny hoped to God that they weren't. "I've heard of people's hair going white from trauma," the doctor told him, "but in my forty years, I've never actually seen it happen."

Guess that makes me special, huh, doc?

Most of Johnny's scars were visible. He was not psychologically or emotionally damaged. He didn't wake screaming from night terrors or piddle himself at the mere thought of the Loud girls. He caught a butt whopping and that was that. Yeah, it was overkill on their parts, but apparently, they realized that and they were really broken up about it. He wasn't happy with them but hey, stuff happens, right?

What the doctors didn't know and couldn't see, what he carefully hid from them for fear of being labeled crazy and shoved into a mental asylum, was this.

He was hearing voices.

Two voices, to be exact. One was snide and condescending, making rude comments about Johnny and all the people, places, and things around him. The other was crazy and childlike. He made comments too, some of them crude, some of them downright psychotic. "Pee the bed," he giggled the other day when the nurse came to check on him. "Cock your butt and drop a duce, then ask for them digits hehehehehehe." Johnny ignored him. The presence of the voices deeply troubled him. There was definitely something wrong in his brain if he was having hallucinations like that. Maybe a blot clot getting ready to break off and hit him with a fatal stroke. Maybe he was just going loony. Who knew? Not him. Part of him wanted to fess up and get the proper help, but a much larger part was terrified of what might happen to him. The last place in the world he wanted to be - aside from a South American prison - was a dingy, overcrowded state run mental hospital. He'd seen his One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and he was not impressed.

He doubted he was outright insane. His thinking was just as clear and ordered as it had always been, he felt no compulsions and suffered from no strange and compelling delusions. He just…heard voices, that was all. They talked incessantly, one being a real jerk and the other telling him to do weird and awkward things. He could easily disobey the crazy one but still, hearing him 24/7 was starting to get on Johnny's nerves. Sometimes they woke him from a dead sleep and it took his tired brain a long minute to realize that there wasn't someone in the room with him.

In other news, the Loud girls had all been charged with felonious assault and malicious wounding in the attack. From what Lincoln said, deputies from the Royal County Sheriff's Department cuffed and stuffed them, and they were all ashen with terror. Lola broke down in tears and Lisa kept muttering that her future was ruined. Leni didn't understand what was happening, and Lynn tried to run, so she got tased lol. They were packed off to the kiddie wing of The Royal Woods House of Detention. Johnny had never been in there himself since he wasn't a total screw up, but he heard it was a place of dank chills, dripping concrete walls, and sadness.

There was a small, savage part of him that was glad the Loud girls were getting their just desserts. They had really messed him up, after all. A much larger part of him wasn't happy at all, however. He didn't want to see them stuck in jail over a dumb mistake. They were still his friends and he held no animosity toward them, so he was loath to see them suffer on his account. He contacted the court and made it clear that he didn't want to press charges. The prosecutor, a tough as nails hardcase with a reputation for putting people under the jail, urged him to reconsider his stance, but Johnny was adamant, and after two days in the poke, the Loud girls were free to go.

Owing, Johnny thought, perhaps to their guilt and shame over literally putting him in the hospital, none of them had come to visit him, but they sent him a card, which was nice. It was one of those massive novelty deals, about the size and shape of a freaking door. They all signed it and professed their sorrow. Reading it, Johnny felt…strange. He didn't hate them, but after what had happened, he didn't think that things could ever go back to the way they were between him and them. The beatdown would always hang heavy between them like a cloud of smoke, he would never forget it and he would always be tense and on his guard around them.

After three weeks in the hospital, Johnny was sent home. His hair was still white and his eye still messed up; he still heard the voices and they still told him to poop himself and play in it. At least one of the voices did.

As Mom, Dad, and Lincoln drove him back to 1216 Franklin Avenue, where they had been living with the Louds since a tornado destroyed their home (seriously, hurry up and fix it so we can go back to having our own lives and stop leeching off the Louds). Johnny's heart began to race and cold fear stole over him. He realized he was afraid of going back to that house, of being around his attackers. He told himself he was being stupid and tried his best to calm down, suck it up, and get over it, but the needling fear remained in the back of his being, cold like sludge. When they got to the house, he seized up at the door and stared at the facade, a slight trembling racing through his body. "You good?" Lincoln asked.

Johnny swallowed around a cold lump in his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, "just..cold."

That wasn't a lie but it wasn't the truth either. He was scared. Scared of his friends, the Loud girls. Can you believe that crap? To be fair, he had reason to be a little leery around them since they did jack him up but this was ridiculous. He was outright scared. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself into the house.

His heart sank.

The Loud girls were all clustered in the living room waiting for him, a giant banner over their heads reading WELCOME HOME, JOHNNY. There were balloons and tables laden with snacks and drinks, all of Johnny's favorite treats: Chips, cookies, crackers, finger sandwiches, and candies. The girls' expressions ranged from trepidation to strained, none of them quite knowing how Johnny would react and all of them walking on the ol' proverbial egg shells. They gave a muted "Surprise" and Johnny's heart fluttered to his chest, making him look for all the world like Fred Sanford faking a heart attack. "Uh…h-hey, guys," he said. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up and his spine tingled. His bowels were loose and watery and his knees felt suddenly weak. He sensed danger all around him and it took everything he had to not run away. He broke out into a cold sweat and jumped in fright when Lincoln accidentally bumped into him.

Noticing his brother's state, Lincoln made an excuse about Johnny being tired and needing to rest. "We'll do the party later," he told the Loud girls as he hustled Johnny up the stairs. In their bedroom, formerly the linen closet, Lincoln shut the door and Johnny sank onto the bed with a weary sigh. "You're whiter than I am," Lincoln said, "are you sure you're okay?"

Johnny hesitated. He didn't want to admit to his little problem.

As well you shouldn't, the snide voice said, he'll lose whatever respect he still has for you…which likely isn't much.

Kick him in the nards! The crazy voice said. Make him respect you!

Will both of you shut the freak up? I really don't need this junk right now. I just got home from the hospital and I'm freaking out, okay? Just leave me alone and stop with the dumb comments.

Lincoln was looking at him funny, head cocked curiously to one side like Nipper the Dog. "I'm just a little on edge," Johnny said, "that's all."

Sitting next to him, Lincoln said, "I don't blame you. I've been on edge too. These girls are stone cold killers."

"They didn't mean it," Johnny said.

"Maybe not, but they still did it," Lincoln pointed out, "being sorry about hurting someone after the fact doesn't change that you hurt them in the first place."

True, but still, he wasn't about to hold a grudge against them or anything. "I just…I don't know, the moment we got close to the house, I started feeling all anxious and weird," Johnny confessed.

"You probably have PTSD," Lincoln said.

At that, Johnny scoffed. "I doubt that."

"You might," Lincoln said, "that was a nasty beating. Dudes have come back from Iraq all messed up over less."

Yeah, Johnny didn't know about that. He refused to believe that he had something as severe as PTSD. You get that from war or terrible natural disasters. Getting it over a simple fight was laughable. Fraudulent. Something only a weak person would do, like that newspaper columnist who said he fired an AR-15 at a gun range and got PTSD. "The recoil bruised my shoulder, which can happen if you don't know what you're doing. The brass shell casings disoriented me as they flew past my face. The smell of sulfur and destruction made me sick. The explosions — loud like a bomb — gave me a temporary form of PTSD. For at least an hour after firing the gun just a few times, I was anxious and irritable."

Dude, are you made of glass?

No, Johnny didn't have PTSD. He was a bruiser, not a Faberge egg.

He was just…

Out of sorts, that was all.

It was only temporary, he told himself, it would pass in due time. He needed to readjust and to get over what had happened. Once he got his bearings about him again, things would get back to normal fairly quickly. He was sure of it.

That first night was rough. He didn't go down to his "party" and left the room only after having Lincoln check the hall for Louds. He felt naked and exposed out of the room and the voices both battered him, one calling him a coward and the other telling him to take revenge on the Loud girls by pooping himself in their rooms. That'll show them. Stink 'em out!

What was this guy's obsession with making Johnny poop on himself? It was sick and strange and he was getting really tired of hearing it.

Later on, in bed, Johnny lay awake as the voices argued with each other. He finally, at last, drifted off, and in his dreams…

…the Loud girls beat him up again.


The next few weeks were harder on Johnny than he thought they would be. He rarely came out of his room, and when he id, he started having panic attacks. When he had the misfortune of coming across one of the Loud girls, he would freeze up like a deer in the headlights, every nerve and muscle in his body shouting at him to flee before he got turned out again. He started to become a weird shut in with unkempt hair and leering eyes, and the voices rejoiced in his deteriorating sanity.

Lincoln was there for him the whole time, staying right by his side and swearing up and down that he wouldn't let "anything happen" to him. Unbeknownst to Johnny, Lincoln told the Loud girls that Johnny needed time to adjust, so they gave him as much space as they could, but it was hard not to cross paths with them in the halls. He took his meals in his room, telling himself day after day that next time, he would brave going into the kitchen and sitting at the table with everyone else.

That day didn't come.

While he was going through this, the Loud girls were plotting.

Each night, they secretly met in Lori and Leni's room to devise a way to make it up to Johnny. They were deadlocked. See, none of them really believed that they could "make it up" to him. They could do his chores, hug him, and all that other crap characters in lame fan fictions do whenever they wrong someone close to them, but none of those things even began to atone for the brutality they had visited upon the now white haired black boy, After all, they put him in the hospital for three weeks, turned his hair the color of ash, and all but destroyed one of his eyes. How can you make up for something like that? Leni wanted to throw him a party but that didn't work out so well the first time they tried, thus the others nixed that idea. Lisa wanted to perform surgery on his eye, restoring it to its natural state (free of charge, of course), but Lori didn't think Johnny would want any of them coming at him with a sharp object anytime soon, so they jettisoned that plan as well.

They were all guilty and ashamed of themselves for their actions and each one of them was desperate to make things right. "He probably thinks we hate him," Lana said.

That made them all feel even worse. They didn't hate Johnny. In fact, most of them were head over heels in love with him. That increased their remorse and made them all want to atone even more. What could they do? There seemed to be nothing.

Finally, since they couldn't agree, they decided to all do their own thing.

Two days later, Johnny poked his head out of his room and looked around. It was early morning and he had to pee. The Loud girls weren't around so -

Without warning, Luan popped up in front of him and he nearly screamed. "Sorry to scare you," she said and held up a wooden dummy, "but Mr. Coconuts wants you to hear his new act. He wrote it specifically for you."

A door opened up and Lynn came out, she saw Luan and sagged. "You're doing it now too?"

"What do you call -?"

"He doesn't wanna hear that," Lynn snapped. "He wants this."

She whipped something out and Johnny cringed, almost certain it would be a gun or a knife.

It wasn't.

It was a football.

"Signed by all my favorite players," Lynn said, "it's my most prized possession. Have it."

"Oh, great," Lola said, storming out of her room, "you're cutting in on my time." She grabbed Johnny's hand and his heart sputtered. She batted her eyelashes prettily and said, "I'm going to make it up to you, Johnny. By letting you take me on an expensive date."

Johnny's heart was pounding now and his fight or flight response was kicking in.

Lana came into the hall. "No, I'm taking him for a ride in my Barbie Jeep," she said. "And I'm gonna stop at Burpin Burger and get him whatever he wants."

Fire crept into Lola's eyes and she spun on her twin. "Oh no you don't." She shoved Lana, and Johnny's stomach dropped.

Oh no.

It was happening again.

And indeed it was. Within seconds, the hall had become a battlefield as the Loud girls fought one another for the honor of getting to hang out with Johnny. Lynn punched Leni; Lori kicked Lisa; Lana and Lola pulled each other's hair and spun around in a fast circle. Lucy climbed onto the end table and jumped onto Luan's back; Luna hit Lynn. Everyone was screaming and wheeling around, a bunch of mad white women on the warpath. Johnny couldn't help but watch in amazement as they tore each other to ribbons. Dear God, the snide voice said, they really are violent.

Show them you're more violent by pooping on yourself, the crazy voice said.

The Loud girls had turned into a huge dust ball, with only flashes of fists and feet visible, Johnny heard the crunch of breaking bones and wails of pain, and he fluttered his hand to his mouth. Slowly, the dust settled and all the girls were laid out broken and panting, some of them bleeding. Johnny was…

…strangely okay. "Guys, you did it," he said. "Seeing you get beat up, and way worse than me, cured me of my Loudphobia." He scooped Lori's body off the floor and gave it a hug. She moaned and bled on him. He winced and took a step backwards, surveying the damage once more.

"Let's call you guys an ambulance," he said.