Author's Note: Thanks for the support! Oh, and sorry that this section is
so short. ( Damn! That rhymed, didn't it?! Oh well. Enjoy, for it is
done…
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Epilogue: Devi (Two weeks later)
Devi woke up after very little sleep. She was still thinking about Johnny C, the stranger who always left. He didn't seem quite as sick anymore, but she got the feeling that there were still many barricades blocking her from him. He was different. He had given her everything he knew about his disease. Every so often, he would call, and they would talk about nothing at all. It seemed that she was needing him less and less. In a strange way, that frightened her. A week later, she called him just to talk, but found that he wasn't home. After secluding herself for a day and feeling like the world was crashing, she realized that nothing was wrong. The last evening she had gone out to a movie with Tenna. She was actually having fun again.
Stranger still, Sickness's voice had left her. No longer did she hear the voices in her mind, and no longer could she find the screws that were left of Sickness. The damage was wearing, but there was still room for self- improvement and the hope of finding a fate more valuable than just work alone. She wondered to herself how much more she wanted from him. She wondered why being with him always felt so right, but at the same time, so risky. Finally she decided to visit him, to confront him face to face and see if he still runs away. It was quite early and foggy as she got in her car, and retraced the route. After hours of getting lost, she parked in front of his pitiful house, looking more abandoned and imprisoning than before. She knocked on the door, resisting the urge to ring that creepy doorbell, and noticed that once again the door was unlocked. She let herself in and closed it behind her. "Nny!" She shouted. "Nny, are you here?" There was no response. She was about to leave when a pile of crumpled up papers caught her eye. They reminded her of their old conversations about how Johnny used to love to love art and drawing. He explained how his work had debased into those stick figures, or something like that. She wondered if those were new attempts. She picked up the first ball of paper and unraveled it.
Dear Die-ary,
I really do feel nothing now. I must be beyond redemption at this point. Death and resurrection meant nothing. I would die a hundred times and each would be more meaningless than the last. I can't change my feelings, no matter how I try. The gradual process is always interrupted by an outside force stronger than I am. I can't change what I want, but I can still never have what I want. But I can't die either. Can't live. Can't die. So no matter what, I'll always be here, writing these words thinking these thoughts and hoping for more of what will never be… I still wonder if she will come again, or try to call. But that's over. Time has elapsed, leaving me at where I stood before. I never even asked if she had forgiven me. Johnny C. (Author's note: LOOKIE!!! REDUNDANCE!!!)
Devi bit her lip after reading it. That "she" must have been her... She looked at it speechlessly, not quite sure what to think of the death and resurrection bit. She folded the letter and laid it down next to her.
Dear Die-ary,
A few nights ago, I had found her again, and left. It didn't feel like something I wanted to, or needed to talk about. She told me all about her problems, and I shared mine as well. But that was all, just the past. I assume that was why her feelings towards me were so intimidating. How could I tell her that I would help, if that would only lead me back into the cycle that has caused me so much pain? It doesn't matter. I agreed of course. That's why I think I should leave now. I don't need to feel sorry for anyone right now. I have issues of my own to work out. First I think I'll get me some nachos. That need to consume is back again… can't… resist… cheese dip… Johnny C.
She raised an eyebrow. I certainly find the weird ones all right… She picked up the second to last one.
Dear Die-ary,
Those chills did turn out to be a virus of some sort. It's rather nasty to have one of those when you have very little heat in your house. I hate coughing and sneezing, but who doesn't, I guess… Every so often, I think about friends I could have had, people I could have spared, and even want to cry. There's nothing wrong in letting those feelings out if the reason can be justified by a need that deep. I've lost my ability to make judgments. Maybe it's good that I'm realizing that I had taken an imaginary position of power in the past, but that means now I can no longer find the reasons to kill. I've been staying in for too long. The cold still gets to me, and leaves me shaking at night. It's cold now. Wishing for warmth only makes me feel sick. Can't stop shaking. Don't want to cry. Can't sleep. Don't feel like writing now… Johnny C.
Devi touched her cheek, feeling the pangs of pity and guilt in her heart. 'Nny, why can't you find someone who could help YOU?!' She put that entry into her pocket, to remind her of just how fragile sanity could be. Just how fragile a life was. She didn't want that for herself, or for him. Tears welled in her eyes, she took the last on into her trembling hands. As she looked upon it, she hoped it would give her the answers.
Dear Die-ary,
I've talked to Devi twice this week. Every time I wait for her to say something, and think of how nice it would be to get closer to her. Then I hear it… That scathing voice of my desires. I want to do something about it, and I think should, at this point. I don't know anymore what I want to find, or what I want to make of this so-called "life" of mine. Before I had narrowed my search to coldness, but perhaps if I left that more open, I could find what is out there for me. It's hard to believe in fate, after encountering such a flawed system in this universe that is now hard at work, but there's no reason not to believe that there's something waiting for me somewhere. I don't know if I'll find it this time, but I can always write about it being there. So once again I intend to escape from this place. I no longer need the wall, the doughboys, or that freaky burger thing. This will be my own revolution, and my own doing. I only hope that I can keep this train of thought when I speak with her again. I should tell her. It won't be permanent. Just another little search, then maybe something can go right. Johnny C.
"But you forgot to tell me that little detail, didn't you?!" she hissed through gritted teeth. With a slight sigh of relief, Devi laid the letters flat on the shelves near by. She would take one of them as a memento of his. She looked out side and looked out a nearby window. It was cloudier that morning, but the fog seemed to part, and now a pastel blue sky above her, the sun gently shining on her face. She was looking out the same window Johnny had looked out of, that night he slept in that room thinking of her. 'Good luck on your search. Don't take too long.'
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Epilogue: Johnny (Two weeks later)
Nny sat alone on the hilltop, nothing with him but two screws he had taken from Devi's apartment and a small amount of cash. Thinking about being with her, he wondered if his ideas of desensitization were any good. Before the taunting voice of Meat had interrupted his mind, it didn't seem that having those warm feelings with Devi were all that bad. He didn't want it too be love though. Love just wasn't something he wasn't ready for. He could wait though, until he had better means of managing his life. It didn't feel as damaging now, because he knew that he didn't have to be alone. Devi had wanted him with her. Or at least she now tolerated his presence. Somehow, he didn't feel as guilty for leaving her that night anyhow. The more she had talked with him on the phone, the better she had sounded. He wondered if Devi wouldn't forget him when her mind would finally be free. Lonely, he slid down from the top of his car and onto the grass. He thought of what he could do instead of wasting the night and falling into another state of depression. 'I think I'll go kill some time with an old friend…'
Fed sat in his comfy chair watching TV and stuffing pork-rinds down his throat. It was late, his house was dark and smelly. (( strange choice of adjectives, no?) There was a knock on his door. "Yeah, whaddya you want?!" He growled loudly, without even getting up. The knocking grew increasingly louder. "Son of a bitch, leave me alone!"
Suddenly the door burst open. "You were right about something, Fed. Forgive and forget never was my motto."
Fed's eyes widened in dumbstruck horror. He leapt to his feet. "Shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" He didn't get it. That insane son of a bitch was supposed to be dead, but he wasn't. Fed ran deeper into his house, clambering, falling over objects and rambling in terror. "Oh shit! Oh shit! Get away from me you fuck!"
"Aw, c'mon. What's to be so scared of? I won't creep up on you like you did to me. I'd rather we just work things out… face to face…" Johnny stroked the edge of the axe's blade with his forefinger, upon entering the house, and locking Fed in.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It's me again! Well, it's done. sigh It's not perfect, but I'll work on more… practice makes perfect! (But nobody's perfect… HEY!!! Stop messing with me!) I hope you liked and all. Don't forget to R/R! Buh bye! -Mystress Nnie
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Epilogue: Devi (Two weeks later)
Devi woke up after very little sleep. She was still thinking about Johnny C, the stranger who always left. He didn't seem quite as sick anymore, but she got the feeling that there were still many barricades blocking her from him. He was different. He had given her everything he knew about his disease. Every so often, he would call, and they would talk about nothing at all. It seemed that she was needing him less and less. In a strange way, that frightened her. A week later, she called him just to talk, but found that he wasn't home. After secluding herself for a day and feeling like the world was crashing, she realized that nothing was wrong. The last evening she had gone out to a movie with Tenna. She was actually having fun again.
Stranger still, Sickness's voice had left her. No longer did she hear the voices in her mind, and no longer could she find the screws that were left of Sickness. The damage was wearing, but there was still room for self- improvement and the hope of finding a fate more valuable than just work alone. She wondered to herself how much more she wanted from him. She wondered why being with him always felt so right, but at the same time, so risky. Finally she decided to visit him, to confront him face to face and see if he still runs away. It was quite early and foggy as she got in her car, and retraced the route. After hours of getting lost, she parked in front of his pitiful house, looking more abandoned and imprisoning than before. She knocked on the door, resisting the urge to ring that creepy doorbell, and noticed that once again the door was unlocked. She let herself in and closed it behind her. "Nny!" She shouted. "Nny, are you here?" There was no response. She was about to leave when a pile of crumpled up papers caught her eye. They reminded her of their old conversations about how Johnny used to love to love art and drawing. He explained how his work had debased into those stick figures, or something like that. She wondered if those were new attempts. She picked up the first ball of paper and unraveled it.
Dear Die-ary,
I really do feel nothing now. I must be beyond redemption at this point. Death and resurrection meant nothing. I would die a hundred times and each would be more meaningless than the last. I can't change my feelings, no matter how I try. The gradual process is always interrupted by an outside force stronger than I am. I can't change what I want, but I can still never have what I want. But I can't die either. Can't live. Can't die. So no matter what, I'll always be here, writing these words thinking these thoughts and hoping for more of what will never be… I still wonder if she will come again, or try to call. But that's over. Time has elapsed, leaving me at where I stood before. I never even asked if she had forgiven me. Johnny C. (Author's note: LOOKIE!!! REDUNDANCE!!!)
Devi bit her lip after reading it. That "she" must have been her... She looked at it speechlessly, not quite sure what to think of the death and resurrection bit. She folded the letter and laid it down next to her.
Dear Die-ary,
A few nights ago, I had found her again, and left. It didn't feel like something I wanted to, or needed to talk about. She told me all about her problems, and I shared mine as well. But that was all, just the past. I assume that was why her feelings towards me were so intimidating. How could I tell her that I would help, if that would only lead me back into the cycle that has caused me so much pain? It doesn't matter. I agreed of course. That's why I think I should leave now. I don't need to feel sorry for anyone right now. I have issues of my own to work out. First I think I'll get me some nachos. That need to consume is back again… can't… resist… cheese dip… Johnny C.
She raised an eyebrow. I certainly find the weird ones all right… She picked up the second to last one.
Dear Die-ary,
Those chills did turn out to be a virus of some sort. It's rather nasty to have one of those when you have very little heat in your house. I hate coughing and sneezing, but who doesn't, I guess… Every so often, I think about friends I could have had, people I could have spared, and even want to cry. There's nothing wrong in letting those feelings out if the reason can be justified by a need that deep. I've lost my ability to make judgments. Maybe it's good that I'm realizing that I had taken an imaginary position of power in the past, but that means now I can no longer find the reasons to kill. I've been staying in for too long. The cold still gets to me, and leaves me shaking at night. It's cold now. Wishing for warmth only makes me feel sick. Can't stop shaking. Don't want to cry. Can't sleep. Don't feel like writing now… Johnny C.
Devi touched her cheek, feeling the pangs of pity and guilt in her heart. 'Nny, why can't you find someone who could help YOU?!' She put that entry into her pocket, to remind her of just how fragile sanity could be. Just how fragile a life was. She didn't want that for herself, or for him. Tears welled in her eyes, she took the last on into her trembling hands. As she looked upon it, she hoped it would give her the answers.
Dear Die-ary,
I've talked to Devi twice this week. Every time I wait for her to say something, and think of how nice it would be to get closer to her. Then I hear it… That scathing voice of my desires. I want to do something about it, and I think should, at this point. I don't know anymore what I want to find, or what I want to make of this so-called "life" of mine. Before I had narrowed my search to coldness, but perhaps if I left that more open, I could find what is out there for me. It's hard to believe in fate, after encountering such a flawed system in this universe that is now hard at work, but there's no reason not to believe that there's something waiting for me somewhere. I don't know if I'll find it this time, but I can always write about it being there. So once again I intend to escape from this place. I no longer need the wall, the doughboys, or that freaky burger thing. This will be my own revolution, and my own doing. I only hope that I can keep this train of thought when I speak with her again. I should tell her. It won't be permanent. Just another little search, then maybe something can go right. Johnny C.
"But you forgot to tell me that little detail, didn't you?!" she hissed through gritted teeth. With a slight sigh of relief, Devi laid the letters flat on the shelves near by. She would take one of them as a memento of his. She looked out side and looked out a nearby window. It was cloudier that morning, but the fog seemed to part, and now a pastel blue sky above her, the sun gently shining on her face. She was looking out the same window Johnny had looked out of, that night he slept in that room thinking of her. 'Good luck on your search. Don't take too long.'
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Epilogue: Johnny (Two weeks later)
Nny sat alone on the hilltop, nothing with him but two screws he had taken from Devi's apartment and a small amount of cash. Thinking about being with her, he wondered if his ideas of desensitization were any good. Before the taunting voice of Meat had interrupted his mind, it didn't seem that having those warm feelings with Devi were all that bad. He didn't want it too be love though. Love just wasn't something he wasn't ready for. He could wait though, until he had better means of managing his life. It didn't feel as damaging now, because he knew that he didn't have to be alone. Devi had wanted him with her. Or at least she now tolerated his presence. Somehow, he didn't feel as guilty for leaving her that night anyhow. The more she had talked with him on the phone, the better she had sounded. He wondered if Devi wouldn't forget him when her mind would finally be free. Lonely, he slid down from the top of his car and onto the grass. He thought of what he could do instead of wasting the night and falling into another state of depression. 'I think I'll go kill some time with an old friend…'
Fed sat in his comfy chair watching TV and stuffing pork-rinds down his throat. It was late, his house was dark and smelly. (( strange choice of adjectives, no?) There was a knock on his door. "Yeah, whaddya you want?!" He growled loudly, without even getting up. The knocking grew increasingly louder. "Son of a bitch, leave me alone!"
Suddenly the door burst open. "You were right about something, Fed. Forgive and forget never was my motto."
Fed's eyes widened in dumbstruck horror. He leapt to his feet. "Shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" He didn't get it. That insane son of a bitch was supposed to be dead, but he wasn't. Fed ran deeper into his house, clambering, falling over objects and rambling in terror. "Oh shit! Oh shit! Get away from me you fuck!"
"Aw, c'mon. What's to be so scared of? I won't creep up on you like you did to me. I'd rather we just work things out… face to face…" Johnny stroked the edge of the axe's blade with his forefinger, upon entering the house, and locking Fed in.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It's me again! Well, it's done. sigh It's not perfect, but I'll work on more… practice makes perfect! (But nobody's perfect… HEY!!! Stop messing with me!) I hope you liked and all. Don't forget to R/R! Buh bye! -Mystress Nnie