If only I Could Dream
~
~
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jhonen Vasquez.
A/N: Where's my morphine?!!!
~
~
~
Chapter 7: Something To Believe in
~~@
~~@
"So this is what you do all day, is it?" Shmee sneered. "You sit on your ass. I knew it. You're only out at night, huh? Does the word Vampire RPGer mean anything to you? You seem to take the role seriously."
Johnny didn't even bother moving his head towards him. He just sat there in the couch, staring at the blank TV, wondering if this was one of those rare moments he could actually get away with killing himself without being sidetracked. "Shut up. You're even more annoying and absurd than Meat." He paused momentarily before speaking again. "Speaking of which, where is the little bastard?"
Shmee giggled. "I sent him down into the basement. He was getting a little ignorant." He made an odd gesture with his stuffed arm, lowering it with every sound he made, "thump, thump, thump, all the way down....then crash. I don't think you'll be having anymore problems with him. I think a thank you is in order." Another giggle.
"Yes, replacing one viciously disgusting figment with another. I hate you." Johnny answered, leaning forward. He rested his jaw on his hand, elbow resting on his knee. A soft sigh escaped his lips. "When does Squee get home? I would like to get rid of you as soon as possible. Ech, just looking at you makes me want to vomit air."
"Likewise," the bear answered. "And for your rude information, he should be home by now, though he could be doddling around school to avoid the bullies." He snorted, and sat on the couch beside the thin man. "What makes you care about him anyway? For Christ's sake, you know he's afraid of you and then you parade around his house acting as if you can help him with all his woes and such. You sicko....
Johnny merely blinked at the TV.
"You're a pedophile, aren't you?!" Shmee squealed, jumping from the couch cushion in an instant. "HA! You deranged psychotic fool! I was onto you all along! That's what makes you so gross!"
Johnny blinked again. What was that ratty toy ranting about? He shrugged absently. Who cared? The damned thing was just a fucking nuisance, one that Johnny would be rid of soon enough. He wouldn't be able to destroy the little freak the way he had always intended, but at least it would be out of his house, and that was all that really mattered.
For the moment, he only thought of....he blinked again, but only out of confusion. What the hell had he been thinking about? *Fuck* he thought, slumping in his seat. *Fucking bear. Now all I can think about is killing a pedophile.* He sighed. Now it was going to drive him insane. What was that thought that tore at his mind, muffling all others, before Shmee had interrupted?
Squee. He was thinking of Squee.
He had come so close to actually killing him, again. How many times was that? Too many. He didn't want to hurt Squee, and just when he thought he wouldn't, the boy had summoned up the courage to actually venture to his maniac neighbor's house and offer his life. That did not settle well with Johnny; no, it did not. He felt his stomach twist and turn at the thought.
Was this to be his coldness? Killing the only innocent child in the neighborhood? Possibly the world? His cheeks went a sickly green color, and he thought he would throw up for a minute. Suddenly, a thought grazed his mind, taking away from the sickness of his stomach. A realization. He was beginning to have a lot of those since he returned, but this.....this just seemed much more important. It was as if a brick had hit him brutally in the head and he was seeing the blood of his idea in his own hand, falling from his fingers, soaked up in the ground.
"Suddenly, I'm not sure I want to be cold anymore." He said aloud. "God, just looking at Mr. Samsa, and seeing him truly live as I wished to live; it gave me a goal, something to hold on to, leading me to the perfection so many seek but none ever find. How close I was to gaining that inhuman perfection."
Shmee stared at him. "What the fuck-"
"But Samsa never had to take away innocence to achieve that strive to survive. He never had to kill some neglected child with humongous, bright, humongous, future-holding...humongous....eh, eyes. Who held in his possession a fucking demon bear." He growled the last few words, the object of his hatred grinning back up at him.
Shmee stared, still grinning. "Who the hell is Samsa? Another voice? You really are sick, you know that, Nny?"
Johnny glared. "You have no right to call me that, you slimy decayed portion of flea-bitten road trash. I am Johnny to you." He suddenly turned his head towards the window facing Squee's house. "I think its time to visit Squee."
~~~
~~~
~~~
Squee couldn't manage a scream. He couldn't run, couldn't even cry. He could barely manage a blink. The sight had trampled its way into his mind, freezing him from the inside out.
Blood. Oh God, there was so much blood. Okay, maybe not as much as there had been in Johnny's basement., but there was still a hell of a lot, staining his kitchen floor. The bodies lying around limply, beckoning him to move closer so that he could give positive identification that they were in fact the limbs and torsos of his parents.
But he already knew. He knew that they were his own parental units. Murdered...or rather slaughtered. Yes, that was a much better description of what had taken place in his home. But who....
His gaze shot over, through the wall, above the fence, though the wood. Johnny. Johnny had done this...? He blinked, actually turning to face the wall. But, he wouldn't. He would never hurt Squee's parents, would he? His memories traveled back to the moment when Johnny had smacked his dad in the head with a toy, just before he had left sometime ago.
Squee had gotten blamed for that one, but his father had had such a migraine that his punishment was forgotten.
He had never told anyone, not even Shmee, how delighted he was that Johnny had committed such an act on his dad. He didn't have to hear about how much of a mistake and a burden he was to his parents. He didn't have to feel bad that night. The child had almost thanked the maniac before he wandered away for his holiday.
Too late now.
He almost turned back to the disgusting mass of flesh lying in his kitchen, but stopped his body. He didn't want o see it anymore. He didn't want to accept that they were gone; he didn't want to believe that Johnny had gone so far as to kill them.
Dead dead dead dead. The words repeated in his mind, over and over again. The images flashed, repeating what he had just seen; unleashing feelings he didn't need to feel for a second time. A lump lodged itself in his throat, slowing his breath, making him dizzy. The tears swelled in his large eyes, and he finally managed to move.
With lightening speed, Squee skidded across the carpet, sweating fear. He had to get away. He didn't want to see it again. He didn't want to feel the hands of death upon his body; the breath of murder against his face; he didn't want to have to plague his child eyes with such a sight.
With a sob and teary eyes, he flung open the door with all his might - it slowly creaked open to the point where he could barely manage to squeeze through - and plopped onto the mat in front of his house. Sobs and screams of sadness beat down on him; his body shook and trembled violently. They were dead. Dear God, they were dead; Goddamn it, they were dead! More cries escaped his body. He was alone.
Where would he go now? There was no place for him. And worst of all, Shmee was gone. They were all gone: his parents, his best friend, his life. Destroyed in the moments it took for them to die; to suffer in the worst torment then die.
He cast his gaze to the neighboring house. It was him. It had to have been. That skinny maniac.....he'd killed his family; he took all that the boy had had left. It was his fault, it was all his fault.
No. This wasn't happening. Whatever happened wasn't Johnny's fault. He would never do that to Squee. Hell, he'd saved the kid's life more times than he could count. Something wasn't right with Johnny; anyone could see it, from a mile away. If it was in fact Johnny, then it couldn't be his fault.
No, Squee wouldn't believe it.
"Excuse me. Are you okay?"
An angelic voice; too beautiful to be real, Squee decide. Part of him didn't dare to look, afraid that the radiance of this angel's voice would be even more apparent in her beauty. However....he bit his lip. It would be rude not to acknowledge her wonderful presence.
Carefully, tears still rushing from his eyes, he turned his head to face her.
The woman bent down to his eye level. *She's not an angel,* Squee noted, observing her appearance. The dark clothing, that hair, eyes outlined by a two large combined rings of red and black. Sleep. She needed lots of sleep. *But she's pretty.*
Squee stared, still gasping out in sobs. Words pushed up his throat, but he was unable to release them from his lips. Instead, they sat on the edge of tongue, waiting for him to open his mouth wide enough for an escape.
The woman tried to smile; Squee could see it was forced. "Why...why are you crying? Are you okay? Do you need help?"
Squee dumbly nodded, before he was finally able to answer, "They-they're dead....they got killed. They got killed." That said, he burst into tears once again, never letting his cheeks dry with old ones.
~~~
~~~
~~~
Devi's smile faded. Her lips became thin and tight, her eyes narrowed in frustration. Killed? Killed by whom? And who was it that had been killed. She stood up and at the front door, part way open. The stench of death flowed triumphantly between the world of this home and her own reality. Whatever had been killed was actually in there.
She didn't know why, but this death beckoned her inside, to come across the mess that lay within. Hesitant, she bent back down to the boy and tried to sound as sweet and gently as she could. "Muh-My name's Devi, okay? I'm gonna go inside real quick, just to see. Wait here."
"No!" the boy squealed in horror. He latched onto her skinny form, hoping that his refusal to release her from his small grasp would destroy any more thoughts of her entering the house. He didn't want her to feel the sadness rampaging along the carpets in a trail of blood. "Please, you can't! You can't! They're dead! There's so much blood! Please don't leave me!!"
Devi blinked. If someone was actually dead in there, then the police would have to be notified, but supposing this 'dead' thing was only a pet. Perhaps the dog had merely torn apart the cat? She knew, what was a lot of blood to one person may not be a lot to another. To a child, a paper cut could be sufficient enough for a trip to the hospital.
She had to see this mess for herself.
"Just stay here," she informed the boy, gently tearing him from her body. "I'll only be a minute....er....."
"Todd," he answered, still choking on his own cries. "I-I'm Tuh-tuh-Todd. But you can't go! You can't go in there! Please don't leave me alone!"
Devi sighed. She had to see, but if he didn't want to be alone, then she would have to take him with. With ease, she picked up the tiny child and held him against her shoulder. His face buried in her neck, she tried to calm him down. "Todd, everything will be okay. This will only take a minute."
*God, this is like most dates I've been on: Crying and wailing and death and me having to baby someone.* She gulped suddenly. *Or someone trying to kill me*
The door creaked open, fully this time, unleashing light into the darkened house. It seemed empty and hollow, as if the very house had died. Devi gulped something down an took an endless step inside, with the young Squee shivering in her arms. She did her best to comfort him the best she could, but children were never her deal, especially crying ones.
Her mind told her to stop right there and turn back around to the light. Her heart jumped from beat to beat; the thumping of rabbit's feet against the ground as it ran from a frightening predator. The voice inside her mind was screaming and swirling, causing her to falter in her steps and she almost fell.
Devi was quick to catch her step, holding firmly to Squee. Cautiously, the young woman stepped passed the living room towards the kitchen. It was that moment that Squee screamed into her neck and grasped tightly to her shirt.
"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God." Devi wanted to scream as well, and she did. The sight was horrific. So much blood (repetition repetition repetition). So familiar...so frightening. "OH MY FUCKING GOD!! HOLY SHIT!"
~~~
~~~
~~~
Johnny scratched his head. "Did you hear something?" He glanced at the teddy in his hand, his own fingers tightly wrapped around the toy's neck. "I could've sworn I heard screaming from Squee's house..."
Shmee sneered back at him, "He knows you're coming. I'd be scared too if I knew that someone as fucked up as you were coming to my house for a nice chat with every intention of slaughtering me. Or rather....perhaps he has found...."
Johnny raised an eyebrow suspiciously, closing the door to his house. "Found what? What the hell are you talking about?"
Shmee giggled. "Nothing. Nothing in particular. Just thinking out loud, Nny."
Johnny grimaced. How he hated that fucking bear. *Oh well. Just drop the damn thing off to Squee and I'll be rid of him. Then, I'll just lock myself up in the house and never have to look upon that little fucking antichrist wannabe.*
Sighing in both relief and exhaustion, he headed across the grass between the two houses, trying to whistle a happy little tune he'd heard somewhere; a memory of happier times, times he could quite place, but knew existed. Yech. Thinking about those forgotten memories filled him with a deep depression.
Angst. Angst. Fucking angst.
"Did you notice the door's open?"
Johnny stopped dead. Shmee was right. The fucking bear was right. The front lay ajar, stiff and unmoving, creaking its sad melody despite the lack of movement. The man bit his lip. He knew just how paranoid the neighborhood could be, and not a single household was ever foolish enough to leave their doors open to the rest of the demon world. No one alive was to be trusted, let alone their fellow neighbors (though they never seemed to take notice of his activities).
Nervous because of this fact, he pulled the large butcher from the side of his pants and held it out defensively and entered. The house was dead silent....save for the soft whimpers coming from up the stairs. Johnny supposed it was Squee. Now was his chance to deliver the toy and leave to the confines of his happy little home.
Exhaling a breath eating at his lungs, he placed a booted foot on the first step, suddenly stopping. That smell....that disgusting reek of familiarity that churned in his stomach and almost forced everything vital within him, up.
Tossing Shmee aside with a soft thud, he removed himself from the staircase and headed towards the kitchen, where the smell was born.
Where others had screamed and sobbed and cried, Johnny C. only growled, his insides on fire with rage and disgust. It wasn't as if he had never seen such a thing before in his life or what he could remember of it, God knows; it was the fact that someone had gotten to the kid's family before he could. And the 'he' or 'she' killer had the audacity to strike before Squee could even think of fending for himself. Johnny himself had vowed to kill off the sick fucks once Squee had turned a good sixteen years old and not a second earlier.
"Fuck...," he whipped around. There was no doubt in his mind that Squee had seen it, and had run up to his room in absolute fear. He couldn't blame the little tyke. Anger flooding his mind, he growled again and grabbed Shmee from off the floor.
First he would give Squee back his friend, then he would gut the sick bastard who had done this.
Shmee laughed shrilly. "Surprised, Johnny C.? Yesss....you are, aren't you?" the stuffed bear hissed softly like a cobra. Johnny rolled his eyes.
"This is the surprise you were talking about, wasn't it?" Johnny snapped, climbing the stairs. "You knew it all along. I'm willing to bet you were the one who did such a thing. I mean, you were always filling his head with shit. Thank God he's got better sense to listen to something as worm-filled as you. You killed his parents, for what? As punishment? For disobeying you and visiting me with only the intention to die at the hands of the insane?! Is that it!?!"
"I think not." Shmee responded. He and Johnny had reached the top of the stairs, but the psycho stood there, staring daggers at him. "I am here to rid him of shit such as this. I soak up all of his fears, and this is one of them. Why would I stuff him with the very fears I seek to take from him? I want him to be afraid as much as I want you to adopt him and tell him more of those stories you used to scare him with, you delusional fool!"
Johnny rubbed his forehead with the back of his knife-wielding hand. "Squee loves my stories. I teach him. You only shelter him. What will he be like in ten years when you're nothing more than a memory and he can't lose the fears and hate, hm? He'll be just like me, I bet. Just like me. Almost an exact replica of murder, hate, and ridicule. And it'll be all your fault because he won't know what to do with those emotions, so he'll unleash them upon others, and hurt them in ways you could never imagine."
Shmee said nothing more and Johnny smile in victory. "Fucking bear."
*Fucking human.*
Johnny shrugged the whole conversation and obliged himself to enter the boy's room. The whimpering had grown louder, yet the room itself was vacant. The curtains had been drawn shut and the light had been broken.
"Squee?" Johnny had gone through enough murders and such to know exactly where to look and how to listen. He also knew that most victims always hid in the closet. He thought this to be funny. For Christ's sake, they might as well hang a sign outside the closet doors or over the bed stating, "I'm hiding here. Please find me and kill me."
With exaggerated gentleness (meaning, he meant to be gentle, but used more strength than actually intended), he flung open the closet door, knife still in hand, staring down upon the figures sitting in the closet, clutching each other for dear life.
Johnny's only focus was Squee, and he paid no mind to the other. "Squee, I came to give this back...to...you...."His jaw fell as did the bear. He couldn't let go of the knife. Force of habit.
The other creature in the closet was in the same state. Her mouth was wide open, her body shaking, the whimpers replaced by attempts at screaming. All she could do was sit there in the dark depths of the closet, her eyes so wide they had begun t hurt and itch painfully; that didn't help her to blink.
Johnny, however, did. It was only from disbelief that he had managed. This angel, his angel....twice in two days. The two days that were an eternity. She had come back to him. They were meant to be together in a beautiful unity that would destroy the cosmos, forever. They were meant for one another. She came back.
Breathless, he whispered, "Devi....
Devi blinked. A hush fell over the house, and the three remained unmoving. There was a beauty in the silence, indescribable and glowing. At least for one. For another...
"OH FUCK!!" Devi D. wailed in absolute dread, and by complete instinct, planted her foot straight into Johnny C.'s crotch.
~~~
~~~
~~~
A/N: The end of that chapter. Yay! Or whatever....anyhow, I felt kind of rushed doing this chapter; I just really wanted to get it out, and it was so much fun to write regardless of how shitty it turned out to be. Plus, I want to get started on the next chapter, which contains a scene I planned from, well, pretty much the very start of the whole idea of the story. I've been waiting forever to get to the right part to write it. So, here goes nothing....
~
~
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jhonen Vasquez.
A/N: Where's my morphine?!!!
~
~
~
Chapter 7: Something To Believe in
~~@
~~@
"So this is what you do all day, is it?" Shmee sneered. "You sit on your ass. I knew it. You're only out at night, huh? Does the word Vampire RPGer mean anything to you? You seem to take the role seriously."
Johnny didn't even bother moving his head towards him. He just sat there in the couch, staring at the blank TV, wondering if this was one of those rare moments he could actually get away with killing himself without being sidetracked. "Shut up. You're even more annoying and absurd than Meat." He paused momentarily before speaking again. "Speaking of which, where is the little bastard?"
Shmee giggled. "I sent him down into the basement. He was getting a little ignorant." He made an odd gesture with his stuffed arm, lowering it with every sound he made, "thump, thump, thump, all the way down....then crash. I don't think you'll be having anymore problems with him. I think a thank you is in order." Another giggle.
"Yes, replacing one viciously disgusting figment with another. I hate you." Johnny answered, leaning forward. He rested his jaw on his hand, elbow resting on his knee. A soft sigh escaped his lips. "When does Squee get home? I would like to get rid of you as soon as possible. Ech, just looking at you makes me want to vomit air."
"Likewise," the bear answered. "And for your rude information, he should be home by now, though he could be doddling around school to avoid the bullies." He snorted, and sat on the couch beside the thin man. "What makes you care about him anyway? For Christ's sake, you know he's afraid of you and then you parade around his house acting as if you can help him with all his woes and such. You sicko....
Johnny merely blinked at the TV.
"You're a pedophile, aren't you?!" Shmee squealed, jumping from the couch cushion in an instant. "HA! You deranged psychotic fool! I was onto you all along! That's what makes you so gross!"
Johnny blinked again. What was that ratty toy ranting about? He shrugged absently. Who cared? The damned thing was just a fucking nuisance, one that Johnny would be rid of soon enough. He wouldn't be able to destroy the little freak the way he had always intended, but at least it would be out of his house, and that was all that really mattered.
For the moment, he only thought of....he blinked again, but only out of confusion. What the hell had he been thinking about? *Fuck* he thought, slumping in his seat. *Fucking bear. Now all I can think about is killing a pedophile.* He sighed. Now it was going to drive him insane. What was that thought that tore at his mind, muffling all others, before Shmee had interrupted?
Squee. He was thinking of Squee.
He had come so close to actually killing him, again. How many times was that? Too many. He didn't want to hurt Squee, and just when he thought he wouldn't, the boy had summoned up the courage to actually venture to his maniac neighbor's house and offer his life. That did not settle well with Johnny; no, it did not. He felt his stomach twist and turn at the thought.
Was this to be his coldness? Killing the only innocent child in the neighborhood? Possibly the world? His cheeks went a sickly green color, and he thought he would throw up for a minute. Suddenly, a thought grazed his mind, taking away from the sickness of his stomach. A realization. He was beginning to have a lot of those since he returned, but this.....this just seemed much more important. It was as if a brick had hit him brutally in the head and he was seeing the blood of his idea in his own hand, falling from his fingers, soaked up in the ground.
"Suddenly, I'm not sure I want to be cold anymore." He said aloud. "God, just looking at Mr. Samsa, and seeing him truly live as I wished to live; it gave me a goal, something to hold on to, leading me to the perfection so many seek but none ever find. How close I was to gaining that inhuman perfection."
Shmee stared at him. "What the fuck-"
"But Samsa never had to take away innocence to achieve that strive to survive. He never had to kill some neglected child with humongous, bright, humongous, future-holding...humongous....eh, eyes. Who held in his possession a fucking demon bear." He growled the last few words, the object of his hatred grinning back up at him.
Shmee stared, still grinning. "Who the hell is Samsa? Another voice? You really are sick, you know that, Nny?"
Johnny glared. "You have no right to call me that, you slimy decayed portion of flea-bitten road trash. I am Johnny to you." He suddenly turned his head towards the window facing Squee's house. "I think its time to visit Squee."
~~~
~~~
~~~
Squee couldn't manage a scream. He couldn't run, couldn't even cry. He could barely manage a blink. The sight had trampled its way into his mind, freezing him from the inside out.
Blood. Oh God, there was so much blood. Okay, maybe not as much as there had been in Johnny's basement., but there was still a hell of a lot, staining his kitchen floor. The bodies lying around limply, beckoning him to move closer so that he could give positive identification that they were in fact the limbs and torsos of his parents.
But he already knew. He knew that they were his own parental units. Murdered...or rather slaughtered. Yes, that was a much better description of what had taken place in his home. But who....
His gaze shot over, through the wall, above the fence, though the wood. Johnny. Johnny had done this...? He blinked, actually turning to face the wall. But, he wouldn't. He would never hurt Squee's parents, would he? His memories traveled back to the moment when Johnny had smacked his dad in the head with a toy, just before he had left sometime ago.
Squee had gotten blamed for that one, but his father had had such a migraine that his punishment was forgotten.
He had never told anyone, not even Shmee, how delighted he was that Johnny had committed such an act on his dad. He didn't have to hear about how much of a mistake and a burden he was to his parents. He didn't have to feel bad that night. The child had almost thanked the maniac before he wandered away for his holiday.
Too late now.
He almost turned back to the disgusting mass of flesh lying in his kitchen, but stopped his body. He didn't want o see it anymore. He didn't want to accept that they were gone; he didn't want to believe that Johnny had gone so far as to kill them.
Dead dead dead dead. The words repeated in his mind, over and over again. The images flashed, repeating what he had just seen; unleashing feelings he didn't need to feel for a second time. A lump lodged itself in his throat, slowing his breath, making him dizzy. The tears swelled in his large eyes, and he finally managed to move.
With lightening speed, Squee skidded across the carpet, sweating fear. He had to get away. He didn't want to see it again. He didn't want to feel the hands of death upon his body; the breath of murder against his face; he didn't want to have to plague his child eyes with such a sight.
With a sob and teary eyes, he flung open the door with all his might - it slowly creaked open to the point where he could barely manage to squeeze through - and plopped onto the mat in front of his house. Sobs and screams of sadness beat down on him; his body shook and trembled violently. They were dead. Dear God, they were dead; Goddamn it, they were dead! More cries escaped his body. He was alone.
Where would he go now? There was no place for him. And worst of all, Shmee was gone. They were all gone: his parents, his best friend, his life. Destroyed in the moments it took for them to die; to suffer in the worst torment then die.
He cast his gaze to the neighboring house. It was him. It had to have been. That skinny maniac.....he'd killed his family; he took all that the boy had had left. It was his fault, it was all his fault.
No. This wasn't happening. Whatever happened wasn't Johnny's fault. He would never do that to Squee. Hell, he'd saved the kid's life more times than he could count. Something wasn't right with Johnny; anyone could see it, from a mile away. If it was in fact Johnny, then it couldn't be his fault.
No, Squee wouldn't believe it.
"Excuse me. Are you okay?"
An angelic voice; too beautiful to be real, Squee decide. Part of him didn't dare to look, afraid that the radiance of this angel's voice would be even more apparent in her beauty. However....he bit his lip. It would be rude not to acknowledge her wonderful presence.
Carefully, tears still rushing from his eyes, he turned his head to face her.
The woman bent down to his eye level. *She's not an angel,* Squee noted, observing her appearance. The dark clothing, that hair, eyes outlined by a two large combined rings of red and black. Sleep. She needed lots of sleep. *But she's pretty.*
Squee stared, still gasping out in sobs. Words pushed up his throat, but he was unable to release them from his lips. Instead, they sat on the edge of tongue, waiting for him to open his mouth wide enough for an escape.
The woman tried to smile; Squee could see it was forced. "Why...why are you crying? Are you okay? Do you need help?"
Squee dumbly nodded, before he was finally able to answer, "They-they're dead....they got killed. They got killed." That said, he burst into tears once again, never letting his cheeks dry with old ones.
~~~
~~~
~~~
Devi's smile faded. Her lips became thin and tight, her eyes narrowed in frustration. Killed? Killed by whom? And who was it that had been killed. She stood up and at the front door, part way open. The stench of death flowed triumphantly between the world of this home and her own reality. Whatever had been killed was actually in there.
She didn't know why, but this death beckoned her inside, to come across the mess that lay within. Hesitant, she bent back down to the boy and tried to sound as sweet and gently as she could. "Muh-My name's Devi, okay? I'm gonna go inside real quick, just to see. Wait here."
"No!" the boy squealed in horror. He latched onto her skinny form, hoping that his refusal to release her from his small grasp would destroy any more thoughts of her entering the house. He didn't want her to feel the sadness rampaging along the carpets in a trail of blood. "Please, you can't! You can't! They're dead! There's so much blood! Please don't leave me!!"
Devi blinked. If someone was actually dead in there, then the police would have to be notified, but supposing this 'dead' thing was only a pet. Perhaps the dog had merely torn apart the cat? She knew, what was a lot of blood to one person may not be a lot to another. To a child, a paper cut could be sufficient enough for a trip to the hospital.
She had to see this mess for herself.
"Just stay here," she informed the boy, gently tearing him from her body. "I'll only be a minute....er....."
"Todd," he answered, still choking on his own cries. "I-I'm Tuh-tuh-Todd. But you can't go! You can't go in there! Please don't leave me alone!"
Devi sighed. She had to see, but if he didn't want to be alone, then she would have to take him with. With ease, she picked up the tiny child and held him against her shoulder. His face buried in her neck, she tried to calm him down. "Todd, everything will be okay. This will only take a minute."
*God, this is like most dates I've been on: Crying and wailing and death and me having to baby someone.* She gulped suddenly. *Or someone trying to kill me*
The door creaked open, fully this time, unleashing light into the darkened house. It seemed empty and hollow, as if the very house had died. Devi gulped something down an took an endless step inside, with the young Squee shivering in her arms. She did her best to comfort him the best she could, but children were never her deal, especially crying ones.
Her mind told her to stop right there and turn back around to the light. Her heart jumped from beat to beat; the thumping of rabbit's feet against the ground as it ran from a frightening predator. The voice inside her mind was screaming and swirling, causing her to falter in her steps and she almost fell.
Devi was quick to catch her step, holding firmly to Squee. Cautiously, the young woman stepped passed the living room towards the kitchen. It was that moment that Squee screamed into her neck and grasped tightly to her shirt.
"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God." Devi wanted to scream as well, and she did. The sight was horrific. So much blood (repetition repetition repetition). So familiar...so frightening. "OH MY FUCKING GOD!! HOLY SHIT!"
~~~
~~~
~~~
Johnny scratched his head. "Did you hear something?" He glanced at the teddy in his hand, his own fingers tightly wrapped around the toy's neck. "I could've sworn I heard screaming from Squee's house..."
Shmee sneered back at him, "He knows you're coming. I'd be scared too if I knew that someone as fucked up as you were coming to my house for a nice chat with every intention of slaughtering me. Or rather....perhaps he has found...."
Johnny raised an eyebrow suspiciously, closing the door to his house. "Found what? What the hell are you talking about?"
Shmee giggled. "Nothing. Nothing in particular. Just thinking out loud, Nny."
Johnny grimaced. How he hated that fucking bear. *Oh well. Just drop the damn thing off to Squee and I'll be rid of him. Then, I'll just lock myself up in the house and never have to look upon that little fucking antichrist wannabe.*
Sighing in both relief and exhaustion, he headed across the grass between the two houses, trying to whistle a happy little tune he'd heard somewhere; a memory of happier times, times he could quite place, but knew existed. Yech. Thinking about those forgotten memories filled him with a deep depression.
Angst. Angst. Fucking angst.
"Did you notice the door's open?"
Johnny stopped dead. Shmee was right. The fucking bear was right. The front lay ajar, stiff and unmoving, creaking its sad melody despite the lack of movement. The man bit his lip. He knew just how paranoid the neighborhood could be, and not a single household was ever foolish enough to leave their doors open to the rest of the demon world. No one alive was to be trusted, let alone their fellow neighbors (though they never seemed to take notice of his activities).
Nervous because of this fact, he pulled the large butcher from the side of his pants and held it out defensively and entered. The house was dead silent....save for the soft whimpers coming from up the stairs. Johnny supposed it was Squee. Now was his chance to deliver the toy and leave to the confines of his happy little home.
Exhaling a breath eating at his lungs, he placed a booted foot on the first step, suddenly stopping. That smell....that disgusting reek of familiarity that churned in his stomach and almost forced everything vital within him, up.
Tossing Shmee aside with a soft thud, he removed himself from the staircase and headed towards the kitchen, where the smell was born.
Where others had screamed and sobbed and cried, Johnny C. only growled, his insides on fire with rage and disgust. It wasn't as if he had never seen such a thing before in his life or what he could remember of it, God knows; it was the fact that someone had gotten to the kid's family before he could. And the 'he' or 'she' killer had the audacity to strike before Squee could even think of fending for himself. Johnny himself had vowed to kill off the sick fucks once Squee had turned a good sixteen years old and not a second earlier.
"Fuck...," he whipped around. There was no doubt in his mind that Squee had seen it, and had run up to his room in absolute fear. He couldn't blame the little tyke. Anger flooding his mind, he growled again and grabbed Shmee from off the floor.
First he would give Squee back his friend, then he would gut the sick bastard who had done this.
Shmee laughed shrilly. "Surprised, Johnny C.? Yesss....you are, aren't you?" the stuffed bear hissed softly like a cobra. Johnny rolled his eyes.
"This is the surprise you were talking about, wasn't it?" Johnny snapped, climbing the stairs. "You knew it all along. I'm willing to bet you were the one who did such a thing. I mean, you were always filling his head with shit. Thank God he's got better sense to listen to something as worm-filled as you. You killed his parents, for what? As punishment? For disobeying you and visiting me with only the intention to die at the hands of the insane?! Is that it!?!"
"I think not." Shmee responded. He and Johnny had reached the top of the stairs, but the psycho stood there, staring daggers at him. "I am here to rid him of shit such as this. I soak up all of his fears, and this is one of them. Why would I stuff him with the very fears I seek to take from him? I want him to be afraid as much as I want you to adopt him and tell him more of those stories you used to scare him with, you delusional fool!"
Johnny rubbed his forehead with the back of his knife-wielding hand. "Squee loves my stories. I teach him. You only shelter him. What will he be like in ten years when you're nothing more than a memory and he can't lose the fears and hate, hm? He'll be just like me, I bet. Just like me. Almost an exact replica of murder, hate, and ridicule. And it'll be all your fault because he won't know what to do with those emotions, so he'll unleash them upon others, and hurt them in ways you could never imagine."
Shmee said nothing more and Johnny smile in victory. "Fucking bear."
*Fucking human.*
Johnny shrugged the whole conversation and obliged himself to enter the boy's room. The whimpering had grown louder, yet the room itself was vacant. The curtains had been drawn shut and the light had been broken.
"Squee?" Johnny had gone through enough murders and such to know exactly where to look and how to listen. He also knew that most victims always hid in the closet. He thought this to be funny. For Christ's sake, they might as well hang a sign outside the closet doors or over the bed stating, "I'm hiding here. Please find me and kill me."
With exaggerated gentleness (meaning, he meant to be gentle, but used more strength than actually intended), he flung open the closet door, knife still in hand, staring down upon the figures sitting in the closet, clutching each other for dear life.
Johnny's only focus was Squee, and he paid no mind to the other. "Squee, I came to give this back...to...you...."His jaw fell as did the bear. He couldn't let go of the knife. Force of habit.
The other creature in the closet was in the same state. Her mouth was wide open, her body shaking, the whimpers replaced by attempts at screaming. All she could do was sit there in the dark depths of the closet, her eyes so wide they had begun t hurt and itch painfully; that didn't help her to blink.
Johnny, however, did. It was only from disbelief that he had managed. This angel, his angel....twice in two days. The two days that were an eternity. She had come back to him. They were meant to be together in a beautiful unity that would destroy the cosmos, forever. They were meant for one another. She came back.
Breathless, he whispered, "Devi....
Devi blinked. A hush fell over the house, and the three remained unmoving. There was a beauty in the silence, indescribable and glowing. At least for one. For another...
"OH FUCK!!" Devi D. wailed in absolute dread, and by complete instinct, planted her foot straight into Johnny C.'s crotch.
~~~
~~~
~~~
A/N: The end of that chapter. Yay! Or whatever....anyhow, I felt kind of rushed doing this chapter; I just really wanted to get it out, and it was so much fun to write regardless of how shitty it turned out to be. Plus, I want to get started on the next chapter, which contains a scene I planned from, well, pretty much the very start of the whole idea of the story. I've been waiting forever to get to the right part to write it. So, here goes nothing....