johnny's undoing
by ryn
*okay, i'm taking another stab at this whole fan fic thing. this one's actually a story. yay. oh, and the chapter is named for whose p.o.v. it is. i love experimenting with p.o.v.*
1: mr. eff
there was a time when he was not ours. in fact, he had found our encasements almost a year before we made our move. i got so far with him.we could have been real. in him i found exactly what i needed. we used to watch him, before we got to him-in him. he was so young when i started on him. impressionable. 16, maybe 17, the introverted sort who made a perfect target for the fury of others. back then, the focus of his life was his art. there was almost a delicateness about him, a trusting frailty that almost made me regret what we did to him. almost. we knew he hated his life. his only friend at that time was a little black book he called his DIE-ary. how i loved its name. watching him paint was my favorite part. it was beautiful to see-the brushes were an extension of his hands. when he painted he had the perfect amount of that buried, latent anger for me to act on. i was ready. i spoke to him in his own voice, the one he'd assigned to the doughboy called mr. fuck. "hello." i knew i'd frightened him. he didn't turn right away, but straightened, and his breath quickened. i continued. "i really like this one.it's so.expressive." he cleared his throat. "thank you." i pushed ahead. "but what about that red there? the shading's perfect, almost as though you were painting in blood. " he shuddered. "i can't stand the sight 0f blood." he looked the floor. i felt the perfect mixture of anger and fear rising in his throat. but without another word he returned to the canvas. contrary to my expectations, he held on to his sanity longer than i'd have preferred. the manic depression from which he suffered wasn't the asset i'd been hoping for, and he was far too introverted for the longest time. but he was worth the challenge. i was quick to work on distractions for him-headaches, nosebleeds, dizzy spells, and random dissociation; everything i could think of to get his mind off of what i was really doing with his brain. by this time, however, that wretched psychodoughboy showed up and started muddling with all the hard work i had done. i was so close-SO CLOSE- --!
*okay, i'm taking another stab at this whole fan fic thing. this one's actually a story. yay. oh, and the chapter is named for whose p.o.v. it is. i love experimenting with p.o.v.*
1: mr. eff
there was a time when he was not ours. in fact, he had found our encasements almost a year before we made our move. i got so far with him.we could have been real. in him i found exactly what i needed. we used to watch him, before we got to him-in him. he was so young when i started on him. impressionable. 16, maybe 17, the introverted sort who made a perfect target for the fury of others. back then, the focus of his life was his art. there was almost a delicateness about him, a trusting frailty that almost made me regret what we did to him. almost. we knew he hated his life. his only friend at that time was a little black book he called his DIE-ary. how i loved its name. watching him paint was my favorite part. it was beautiful to see-the brushes were an extension of his hands. when he painted he had the perfect amount of that buried, latent anger for me to act on. i was ready. i spoke to him in his own voice, the one he'd assigned to the doughboy called mr. fuck. "hello." i knew i'd frightened him. he didn't turn right away, but straightened, and his breath quickened. i continued. "i really like this one.it's so.expressive." he cleared his throat. "thank you." i pushed ahead. "but what about that red there? the shading's perfect, almost as though you were painting in blood. " he shuddered. "i can't stand the sight 0f blood." he looked the floor. i felt the perfect mixture of anger and fear rising in his throat. but without another word he returned to the canvas. contrary to my expectations, he held on to his sanity longer than i'd have preferred. the manic depression from which he suffered wasn't the asset i'd been hoping for, and he was far too introverted for the longest time. but he was worth the challenge. i was quick to work on distractions for him-headaches, nosebleeds, dizzy spells, and random dissociation; everything i could think of to get his mind off of what i was really doing with his brain. by this time, however, that wretched psychodoughboy showed up and started muddling with all the hard work i had done. i was so close-SO CLOSE- --!