Sympathy From The Devil
By Tinque Abelle
Author's Note: I just wanted to say thank you to those who have reviewed. Each comment have encouraged me to continue writing this. Thanks!
Disclaimer: All characters are copyrighted by Almgihty Thinnest Jhonen Vasquez. This was not written for profit.
Chapter Three
Midnight. By now, practically everyone was asleep in their beds, preparing themselves for another chapter in their mundane, repetitive lives. However, Pepito was fully awake downstairs in the basement of his seemingly humble and quaint little house, prodding a river of souls with the new pitchfork that his father had given to him just last week. Fire crackled in the boundless lair of hell, casting a crimson, menacing glow onto his apathetic face.
"Oh no, no, no, son. You are doing it all wrong," an eerie voice stated from behind. Pepito turned and faced his father, whom was towering over him wearing a long black cloak, his horns glistening with the firelight. Louder, more anguished screams ensued as his father took a hold of the pitchfork and stabbed the river of souls with it. "This is how you do it, son. You must jab the souls, you don't merely poke them. Like this, see?" He repeated the process over and over again, much to the intense inconvenience to the souls.
"Okay, okay, okay," hissed Pepito with adolescent impatience. "Father, I get it." He retrieved the pitchfork, glared at his father, and looked into the fiery pits again.
Satan, or rather Senor Diablo, as he preferred to be called, tilted his head in unease. "Dear boy, is there anything bothering you?"
"No, nothing at all …"
"Awful good attempt at a lie, but you really mustn't make it so easy to see through."
"Really, it's nothing. I would just like to be left alone now, if you don't mind --"
"Oh, you can tell your--" A sharp, piercing screech echoed throughout the cavernous lair, interrupting the conversation. To a mortal, the shriek would have rendered them deaf and left their blood cold for eternity. Pepito and his father exchanged puzzled faces. "Someone around here must have been was close to suicide tonight …"
Although the agonized screams of the suicidals were always music to his ears, Pepito felt a churning pain in his gut about this …
…
"Mom?!" Squee was standing in the bright light of the refrigerator trying to hunt for a carton of milk when suddenly he heard a loud crash that sounded as if came from his parents' bathroom. A loud scream soon followed and Squee dashed up the staircase to his mother's aid. Frantically, he wrung the doorknob, trying to get her to open it. "Mom? Mom! Mom, open the door, please!"
"YOU'D BETTER OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW," erupted a deep voice from behind. "What the fuck are you doing?!" Squee flinched as his father rapped on the door violently, and then was pushed aside, slamming into the wall. "Get out here, NOW!"
Rubbing his shoulder in pain, Squee backed away from him and watched him struggling madly, bellowing his heartless words. He knew he shouldn't, but he could not help but begin to cry.
The door flung open and Squee gasped at the sight of his mother emerging with her arms drenched in blood and her hair an awful mess. Silvery shards of the bathroom mirror glimmered in her hair, painting her face red. Behind her, the bathroom looked as if it was shredded by a tornado. "M-Mom?"
"SHUT UP, SQUEE!" His father slapped his mother across the face, forcing her down to the cold bathroom floor onto the sea of shattered mirror pieces.
"Dad, don't do that!" cried Squee. He attempted to pounce onto him to prevent any more damage but was knocked onto the floor.
"Both of you think I have it all easy, don't you? I have to go to the same, fucking job every single day and for what? To support a family I never even asked for! And what are you doing, trying to kill yourself?!" He slapped his wife again in a fit of rage and turned to Squee. "And YOU! You were an accident! We've tried getting rid of you but the mental institution just spat you back at us! No matter what, you just keep coming back! Will you just go outside and get kidnapped already?! GOD!"
Tears flooded his eyes as he withdrew into his room and buried himself into his bed, quietly drowning out the distant bickering with his sobs until he finally fell asleep.
…
The following morning felt so surreal. The warm glow of the sunrise penetrated the bathroom window, shimmering on the shards. Squee was settled in the kitchen, munching on soggy cereal in solitude, staring at the sunrise with a twinge of contempt. The beautiful sun seemed to mock him. Here he was, in pain over the events of last night and the morning was just gorgeous. How could the world still carry on with its usual business while he felt so lost and morose? He looked down as his cereal and then glanced at the various newspapers and magazines spread out in disarray on the table. He remembered when his father would just read his newspapers and his mother would be completely drawn into her fashion magazines, ignoring him as he consumed his breakfast. His mother was always envious of the models in the magazines …
Squee stood up and placed his empty bowl into the sink, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his plain white t-shirt and scanned the house. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound; he wondered if he was the only one left in the house. For a while, he just froze, trying to catch a trace of his parents' voice.
Nothing. Slowly, the silence was beginning to send shivers down his spine. True, it was better than hearing screams and fighting again but still, there was something discomforting about this peace …
Looking at the clock, Squee dashed out the door and nearly fainted when he ran into Pepito. "Squeee! What are you doing here?!"
"Picking you up from school, amigo," he replied, smirking. He was wearing a spiked collar today, along with a black shirt with a logo of a band that Squee's never heard of printed on it, tight black pants, and knee-high boots.
Squee managed a crooked smile, his cheeks reddening lightly. "I'm er … sorry about yesterday …"
"Oh, it's perfectly alright," he lied as they started walking down the sidewalk. "Hey, is anything wrong? You seem … distressed."
Turning his gaze away, Squee's tainted smile faded. He observed the houses they passed; some people were out, tending to their little gardens, getting in their cars, or saying goodbye to their kids as they left for school … God, how he longed for a loving family.
"Squee? Want to talk about it?" he inquired in a tone very much unlike his.
Squee frowned and hold back the faintest drops of tears, promising himself not to let Pepito see him cry.
"Squee? If this is about last night, I--"
"No, it's not anything you did …" He avoided making eye contact with him. "It's nothing."
Unconvinced, Pepito remained silent until they finally arrived at school.
…
During classes, Pepito constantly glanced over at Squee and his depressed façade aroused his concern. While he usually enjoyed seeing people in pain, seeing Squee in pain was unbearable. He had never felt like this towards another being, mortal or immortal. He had never felt the intense desire to protect someone, being so adapted to bringing damage onto others. This warm feeling overwhelmed him; all he could do was focus on Squee and no one else. Squee was unlike any of the other, dull, ordinary mortal; he sensed it even from childhood. The unfamiliar pang of guilt struck him as he recollected yesterday. He wondered if he should have slowed down instead of pouncing onto him like that …
The teacher tapped on his desk to remind him to stay on task but Pepito drove him off with a threatening glare and a low hiss.
When the bell signaled the end of class, Pepito approached Squee and dragged him into the nearest boys' restroom while everyone else hurried to their next class. Shoving him into one of the large stalls at the end of the restroom, Pepito locked the door and pinned him against the wall lightly. "Squee, I know something's wrong. I know you're upset about last night, and I just want to …" He bit his lip and twitched a bit. "Say I'm sorry." He drew up to him, looking into his big, innocent, glassy eyes. "I am. I should've known you/re not into that stuff …"
Shaking his head, he said, "No, no, it's not that, Pepito, it's just …" He swallowed the lump in his throat and a tiny trickle of warmth crawling down his cheek. "My Mom tried to kill herself last night …"
His eyes widened and quietly said, "Oh, so that's what it was …"
"W-what?" He wiped his eyes bashfully.
"Last night while in the basement, Father and I heard a scream. Father told me someone had come close to suicide. The suicidals are always dumped onto us --"
Lowering down onto the frigid tiled floor, Squee started to break down into tears uncontrollably. Surprised, Pepito crouched down and grasped his quivering shoulders. "Squee …"
Even with his vision blurred with tears, he could see Pepito bringing himself up to his face and felt his warm breath on his cheek. He flinched in surprise as the imp slowly … licked a tear off his face. "Pepito …" He looked into his eyes and felt his heart racing with a strange excitement.
Pepito picked him up and embraced him; for a while, they didn't say anything. Squee felt not the need to resist but the longing to stay in his arms; for a minute, it felt like he had nothing in the world to worry about. "You want to get out of here?" he heard a whisper in his ear. Squee looked at Pepito.
"What?"
"You wanna go someplace, just get away from here for a bit?"
"Pepito, we have school. We're missing class right now, actually!" Squee stated with a tone of panic.
"Come on, Squee, I want to make you feel better." Before Squee could protest, the bathroom spun and dissolved into fire. When the flames vanished, they were standing in the middle of an empty little ice cream parlor with Squee wearing his usual face of astonish. Apparently, they had teleported or something but he found it amusing that the child of darkness chose a place that was so vividly decorated in pastel hues.
Pepito cringed. "I know it's disgustingly colorful but they make one hell of a hot fudge sundae." He grinned and Squee's responding smile sent a tingle down his spine. Summoning an employee with the little bell on the counter, they soon sat themselves into a blue-and-white colored booth, ravenously devouring their hot fudge sundaes, unaware of the mess they were making. "Thanks," Squee said as he finished, feeling revitalized.
Smiling, Pepito licked the last remnants of ice cream off of his spoon. "This isn't all I wanted to show you." He gestured towards a shabby, large building with a brightly red-and-orange colored sign that read "Six Sixty-Six" that was located a short distance form where they were.
"What is it?"
"A little dance club I go to sometimes."
Squee blinked. "You go to dance clubs?"
"Well, yeah, it's pretty fun to send some of the people there ablaze but it does get old after a while. I was hoping you'd come with me."
"But don't you have to be eighteen or something to get into those things?" he asked nervously.
"Yeah, but I can get us in." He smirked slyly and licked the vanilla off of his lips.