[A.N. Ok, so I have a plot, but I'm still unsure as to how this story's going to end, so I'm juggling several possibilities (I may end up doing one of those ones with several possible endings, but that just sounds sooo Goosebumps!). Um, I was also unsure of the genre really, but it's sounding kinda like an angst story now, but please warn me if it starts to sound too "Linkin Park", cause then I'd have to shoot myself. Thankees for reviewing everyone! (Is it really kinky?! I'd never thought of that!)]
Johnny carefully opened the door leading out of the basement. He cautiously guided her through the door, preventing her from making any false moves. He had to push the weight of his body against the door to open it, as his hands were occupied: currently, one was wrapped delicately around Devi's waist to steady her as she was unable to do this for herself, while the other pressed the knife blade threateningly against her throat. He pulled the door shut behind them.
"You really think this is going to win me back?"
"Honestly? No."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"Because I'm past considering all other options."
His grip on her loosened as he lowered the knife from her neck. Just then he seized her arm and jerked it towards his other hand which wielded the knife. For a split second the thought passed through Devi's mind that he was going to slice her arm. However, he merely severed the bonds tying her wrists.
"Thanks," she mumbled apologetically – she wasn't sure why she should feel guilty for thinking such a thing, considering her current situation, but the feeling remained nonetheless.
"You're things are in the front room"
[A.N. Sorry! I have absolutely no idea what they say in America, so I'm alternating between every term I can think of for lounge!]
Devi, fully appreciative of her new found arm movement, slumped into the sitting room to collect her possessions that Johnny had salvaged. Upon entering, she was amazed to find her eyes fixating upon not solely clothes (and a wide variety at that), but everything she could imagine herself desiring within a short period of time – including art materials and an unfinished painting she'd been working on.
"Looks like you emptied my apartment," she joked, lightening up a great deal.
Johnny blushed slightly, though she couldn't see, "Well I didn't want you to run out of stuff to live comfortably with… I don't possess a lot of… feminine stuff… and I figured you'd be needing some art supplies – you said you'd go insane if you couldn't paint."
Devi was taken back by this, "Jesus, you actually listen to what I say?"
"Every word."
"Most don't…"
It was evident to Johnny that Devi was relieved to a great extent when he showed her to her room. He'd taken it upon himself earlier to renovate a single room in the house for Devi – that was, scrub any blood splatters of the walls, remove any small animals (living or dead) from it and buy some clean sheets for a bed. It had taken them two trips to carry all of Devi's possessions into the bedroom. When Johnny had carefully propped the unfinished painting against the wall, he slumped down on the bed, Devi stood beside him, uncertainly.
"Are you hungry?"
"Not especially."
"Ok. If you get hungry, tell me. I don't usually cook meals, I just eat when I feel like it."
"Sure. Thanks."
"Do you want me to go? You could carry on with your painting if you want to."
"Yeah, that'd be good."
Johnny rose to his feet and traipsed out of the room without protest.
Devi sighed and walked over to her painting. She was unsure now whether she could continue: her mood had altered so drastically since she's started this painting, she just couldn't express what she'd been trying to express beforehand. She hesitated, then resolved to at least make an attempt – after all, she'd sent Johnny away to do this, and he might be irritated should he find out that she hadn't made any progress (would he check?). She laid it down on the grimy floor. Grabbing a couple of tubes of paint, she squeezed blobs of acrylic paint onto her mixing palette. Taking hold of a medium-sized brush, she began systematically stroking layers of red paint on the canvas [A.N. she can use acrylic on canvas if she wants!], pausing to wash out the paintbrush and blend in some black.
She worked instinctively, choosing without delay where lines of different colours should blend into one another and where they should meet each other at sharp contrasts. Without realizing, she became absorbed in her work, altering the mood of the painting to reflect her own current emotions. She was completely oblivious to Johnny's presence as he gazed down at her, enthralled, standing in the door frame.
Johnny was at a loss of what to do; he desperately wanted to express to her how amazing he thought it was – how amazing she was, yet he felt compelled to hold his tongue – he didn't want to bring her out of her content state of mind and back to the horrifying reality she was trapped in. He stared a little longer, transfixed, then turned and walked off wordlessly.
He automatically found his way to his own (equivalent of a) bedroom. He sat cross-legged in the corner pondering to himself.
The harsh voice of Mr. Eff sounded out, "Penny for your thoughts?"
[A.N. I know he'd never say that, but don't you just love that phrase!]
"I know you can hear them anyway."
"It won't work. She'll never have you. Might as well kill her and save yourself the rejection."
"Shut up, Eff."
"It's the most foolish plan you've concocted yet. You think locking her away and isolating her is going to drive her insane to the point of falling for someone like you?"
"Fuck you. What do you know?"
"I know that's your plan. It was working well at first. With you completely ignoring her resistance and confusing her. Yet now I see your weakness. You make me sick."
"So what? Maybe I can feel that way towards someone! It's not necessarily such a bad thing."
"Johnny, Johnny. Caught up in such emotions. I wouldn't be surprised now if you were to give in to your own lust, just the thing you've been condemning all these years."
"FUCK YOU! I AM NOT LIKE THEM! I'm different."
"The only difference between you and them is your blood thirst. That fucking wall of yours. You'll never win."
Devi was brought out of her trance by the distant earth-shattering screams from several doors down the hall. All she could make out were cries of anguish merged together with the clattering of objects being smashed against walls and floorboards being torn up. Unsure what to do, she remained still for a time, until the racket subsided. She was uncertain of whether or not it would be wise for her to pursue the noise a seek out the cause of the commotion, or to lay low in the event that Johnny's temper should fixate itself upon any living creature that should venture within his reach. Sighing wearily at her own unavoidable foolishness and curiosity, she got to her feet and strode off decisively down the hall.