12-23-04
Disclaimer thingy of DOOM: I do not own anyone in this fic except the peoples who are me own creation thingies, like that sweet little French girl and her mom. And Raven. And Squee's classmates-most of them, anyway. And maybe some other people as I go along. I dunno. Everybody else is owned by the Almighty Thinnest, Jhonen Vasquez. ANYBODY WANNA CHALLENGE THAT? HUH? HUH? Okay, well, then. Erm, the inspiration for this fic came from a beautifully written story titled "Broken Memories," and I can't remember who it's by right now, so please don't yell at me, superior fic-writer-person, cuz I really liked your story. Please read that fic, it's great! Uh, anyway, on with the fun!
Nny woke up. He had actually slept. That was not good. It had been ages since he had done it last, but he could never fend it off for good. The familiar sense of uncertainty upon waking was enough to drive him, terrified, into a corner. He wasn't sure of much now, but sleep stripped him of those last shreds of certainty.
Needless to say, he was not happy.
And someone was banging on his door like their life was on the line. Well, it was, but they didn't know that. Not yet, anyway. Nny shakily stood, stretching to work out his cramped muscles-it had been forever since he's stayed still for more than an hour-and crept up to the door. Whatever it was hadn't heard him and was still hammering incessantly on the heavy wood.
"Who are you and what do you want?" he growled, wrenching open the door so fast it nearly tore off of its hinges.
A small woman stood in the doorway, her fist raised to knock again. The fearful look in her eyes didn't match the situation, so Nny could only guess at what was scaring her. Something shivered behind her, holding tight to the woman's skirt with a tiny gloved hand. Nny stared distastefully at them and started to close the door.
"No! Wait!" The woman suddenly gripped the edge of the door with both hands. She had a surprisingly strong grip for someone so small and frail-looking.
"What is it? I'm busy." Nny let go of the door and leaned against the frame, tapping a foot on the floor in irritation.
"Y-you live here?"
"Yes..." He started to go on, but the woman gave a small scream and suddenly threw herself at him, nearly crushing the man in a tight hug.
"Oh, I knew I'd find you!" she squealed in a thick European accent that Nny couldn't quite place. "All I had to do was keep looking, I knew it! But now I've found you!"
"What the hell is your problem?" Nny hissed, shoving her off of him. "Get away from me, you crazy-"
"But don't you remember me? We were...you were..." Her eyes filled with tears. "You don't remember!"
"I'm going to shut the door now. You will leave quietly and we will all get back to our lives. Is that clear?" Nny started to close the door again, but the crazy woman ran inside before he could get it shut all the way.
"Please listen to me!" she wailed, grasping Nny's hand. "I don't know what else to do! You have to help me!"
"What the-"
"Please listen!"
"Who are you and what are you babbling about? I would like you to leave now."
"But I can't leave!"
"I could arrange for that to be true, but I'm not in the mood. Please leave now, before I get angry."
"Please listen! You have to help me raise our daughter! I don't have anywhere else to go!"
"Daughter?" Nny laughed harshly. "Go to hell."
And with that, he pulled out a knife and made her a foot shorter. The body slowly crumpled to the ground, and Nny kicked it and the head out of his way.
It was then that he noticed a small girl cowering in the corner, eyes huge and mouth open in a silent scream. Not good.
"Go away. I didn't want you to see that." Nny turned away, slightly ashamed of himself. A little girl should not have to witness a murder. It was very sloppy of him.
The kid just stood there, silent. Nny sighed and turned back to yell at her, but stopped when he saw her flinch back. That wasn't right. He did not like scaring children. She shouldn't be there, but still.
"Please leave? Look, juvenile, I really do not wish to harm you, but I would like you to go away."
"Mon Dieu."
"What did you say?" It was Nny's turn to gape.
"Pardon, monsieur. Je ne comprehends pas."
"Oh, for God's sake..." Nny glared heavenward. "WHY?"
"Eh, Squee?" Nny tapped on his neighbor's window, one arm clinging to the frame to keep from falling.
Squee stumbled to the window, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What? Oh, N-Nny... What do y-you want?"
"Er, well, you see...there's a little French girl in my house, and I can't understand her. You take French at the hi skool, right?"
"Yes..."
"Great! Then let's go and get this sorted out, shall we?"
Nny grasped Squee's hand and dragged him out the window and onto the grass outside the house. They ran to Nny's place, Squee struggling to get away all the while.
"Here she is. I can't get her to speak English. Talk to her."
Squee stared at the tiny girl that huddled in the corner, whimpering. Her huge violet eyes were glowing with tears, and she shivered violently when Nny came close to her. She looked oddly like Nny, but a tiny, seven-year-old, female Nny.
"Eh...C'est d'accord, petite. C'est d'accord. Comment t'appelles-tu?"
The girl started at the sound of the boy speaking her language. She stared at him, eyes widening even more.
"J-je m'appelle Antoinette...et toi?"
"Je m'appelle Squee. Ca va?"
"J'ai peur!" Antoinette started crying and curled up into a tighter ball.
"Er, her name's Antoinette and she'd very scared. What did you do?" Squee carefully stepped forward until he was right in front of the girl, then knelt and tried to console her.
Nny pointed to the body.
"Oh. Wait, she's talking again..."
"Il tue Maman!"
"Uh, yeah. Stating the obvious..." He started speaking very quietly and slowly in French, saying as many soothing things as he could think of. Four years of French, and he still wasn't prepared to comfort an orphan. Pathetic.
"Nny, you are really something. Look what you did to this kid!" Squee glared at Nny before turning back to Antoinette. "I should really get her somewhere where she doesn't have to look at dead bodies..."
"There's a lot of empty rooms down that hall. Find one and make the kid stop sniveling already."
Squee shot Nny another dark look before explaining to Antoinette that they were going to go off so she could calm down and tell him what happened. Then he took her by the hand and led her off down the hall.
Nny watched them go, an annoyed look on his face. He cursed under his breath, glanced at the body, and decided that he should really bury the woman somewhere. It wouldn't be very nice to have her decomposing in his living room. An hour later, he returned, dusting off his grimy clothes and sat down on the couch.
Squee, meanwhile, had gotten Antoinette to stop screaming and sobbing. The little girl now sat on the floor, shivering, but silent. Squee was now seated across from her, back against the door so that Nny couldn't walk in and terrify the kid again. He smiled warmly and started to talk.
"D'accord, Antoinette. Ou j'habites-tu?"
Antoinette shook her head mutely.
Oh, God, she doesn't know where she lives...
"As-tu famille?"
"N-non...monsieur...Maman est mort." She started crying again.
"Non, Antoinette, c'est d'accord, c'est d'accord..." Squee kept murmuring things to her, hoping it would work a second time. "Tout est bien..."
"Non! Non! C'est mal! Tres mal!" She was screaming now.
Squee let her cries run their course. God, this was getting difficult. A sixteen-year-old's patience only lasted so long. He dug around in his pockets for something, anything to give to the girl to calm her down. He ended up with a cinnamon candy cane, a piece of candy left over from the holiday party they'd had at the hi skool. He unwrapped it and handed it to the girl.
She stopped crying immediately. A cautious sniff, and her eyes narrowed. Apparently she'd never seen a cinnamon candy before. She gave it a test lick, then crammed the whole thing into her mouth. Her eyes watered, but she crunched away, savoring the unfamiliar taste. She smiled at Squee and giggled upon swallowing the last morsel.
"Bien, non?"
"Tres bien!"
Squee breathed a sigh of relief. He told her to hold on a moment while he left to do something. She nodded, but looked vaguely fearful. Squee handed her his stuffed bear, Shmee, which had somehow survived the trip to Nny's and the subsequent ordeal with Antoinette. She smiled again and held onto the bear for dear life.
"Nny?" called Squee, reentering the living room. "Nny, she's stopped screaming. I think she won't start getting hysterical again if you come in with me. Nny?"
Nny was sitting on the couch, absent-mindedly sketching. Squee glanced at the paper and saw the face of a little girl looking up at him from the sketchbook's pale surface. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she was looking at something just beyond the paper. Nny didn't seem to notice his presence.
"Nny? Are you listening to me?"
Nny jumped, and suddenly there was a blade against Squee's throat. "Oh, hi, Squee. Sorry about that. Don't sneak up on me, though, okay? I'm a little jumpy. What is the situation with Miss Antoinette?"
"Like I just said, she's calmed down. I think if I'm there, she won't start screaming if you go and see her. Bring some cinnamon candies with you. She seems to like them."
"Really? And why exactly would I want to go and talk to her? I can't speak French or understand it."
"Just say 'bonjour' and smile a lot. Or maybe don't smile." Squee remembered his past experiences with Nny's grin. "But you owe it to her to try to talk to her. I mean, the girl's been traumatized.
Nny sighed and nodded. He vanished for a few minutes, returning with a box of cinnamon candy canes. There wasn't much blood on him, either, so it could only be surmised that he didn't kill the cashier this time. Squee and Nny slowly made their way to the room where Antoinette still sat, arms wrapped around a badly-stitched teddy bear.
"Antoinette, je te presente Nny."
Antoinette gave a squeak and huddled farther into the corner. Squee sighed and cautiously approached the girl, and she started crying.
"Oh, great. Now what?" Nny leaned against the doorframe, still holding the candy canes in one bony hand.
"Um...just give her some candy or something. Maybe she'll calm down."
Nny sighed and pulled out a candy cane. He unwrapped it and slowly came toward Antoinette. She looked up, wide-eyed, but didn't start screaming again. Nny held out the candy, which Antoinette greedily accepted. She glared at him and stuffed the treat in her mouth.
"Aimes-tu?" queried Squee, smiling at the girl.
"Oui, monsieur." Antoinette nodded and smiled.
"C'est Squee, petite."
"Ouais, Squee."
"Nny, she likes it. I think she's okay now."
"Well, yeah. She hasn't started screaming yet."
"Give her another one."
Nny handed the girl another candy cane, which was quickly shoved into the pocket of the black jacket she wore over her red and black shirt and pants. Antoinette smiled and started squealing happily in French.
"Okay, I guess she forgives you now."
"Wonderful." So much sarcasm.
Antoinette stared at Nny, eyes big. "Wunnerful," she chirped, her tongue sticking out between the top and bottom rows of her teeth.
"Okay, then." Squee smiled. "Keep talking to her. Maybe she'll pick up some words. Little kids learn languages a lot faster than adults."
"Okay!" giggled Antoinette.
"Hey, I wonder if she can understand us...Probably not, though." Squee stood up and turned to leave. "If she says 'j'ai faim,' she's hungry. 'J'ai soif' means she's thirsty, and I think you'll be able to get the rest of her demands. I have to go now; I've got skool tomorrow. Think you two will be alright?"
"Maybe."
Squee laughed and told Antoinette that he had to leave, but Nny would take care of her. He also told her to come to him if anything ever happened. She smiled and nodded, but looked worried when he took back the teddy bear and left the room.
"Well, then. What's your name, again? Antoinette? God, that's a long name. How about something shorter, eh?" Nny looked thoughtfully at the girl for a moment before smiling. "How about Annette?"
Antoinette giggled and repeated the name. "Annette, Annette, Annette. J'aime Annette!"
"Okay, then. You are Annette." He pointed at her. "Annette. Got it?"
Surprisingly, she nodded. "J'ai faim!"
What was that again? Hungry? Okay, she's hungry.
"Come on, let's go get something to eat."
He roughly grabbed the girl's hand and led her out of the room and into the kitchen. There was a lot of blood covering random things, but no bodies, so it didn't seem to bother Annette much.
"How about skettios? Sorry, but there's not much to eat around here." Nny held up a container of the spaghetti-esque sustenance and smiled. "Want some skettios?"
Annette didn't respond. He took that as a yes and put the container in the microwave. It sparked when he turned it on, but nothing blew up, so it was all good.
"You know, you're going to have to get used to doing things yourself around here. I won't be around all the time to help you."
Annette nodded like she understood, but the blank look on her face told a different story. She smiled at the ding of the microwave that alerted her to the end of meal preparation and waited for Nny to get a spoon for her to eat it with.
"Here. Eat. I'll be downstairs. Scream if you accidentally injure yourself. Otherwise, don't bother me."
Nny left Annette standing in the kitchen with her meal, confused and alone.
Author's Note: It was probably four in the morning on Christmas, or rather the day after, and I was just sorta sitting there, half asleep and in a stupor. Suddenly, I got this really evil poem idea. I love screwing up nursery rhymes, ya see, and this just popped into me head.
"A little bitty French kid
Crept into Nny's house
He killed her mom and
The little girl passed out.
When she came to
There were bodies everywhere
And the little bitty French girl
Refused to leave Nny's lair."
Adorable, non? Anyway, I thought it was kinda funny how it pertained to me fic. Oh, and as a side note, it was REALLY hard to come up with a name for Antoinette-Annette. I eventually ended up asking a friend's mom that had taken a lot of French and had even been there one. When I told her I was using Antoinette for the name of a little skittish girl, she was all like "Well, makes sense-Antoinette got her head chopped off," and laughed. I laughed too, but for a totally different reason. I think we all know why what she said was so ironic.
Anyway, we came up with Annette, which works very nicely, since it's close to Antoinette and easier to say. (Special artist secret: Antoinette was my French name at skool! Go recycling!) Ugh, people, I know I'm screwing up Nny horribly already, but please bear with me. I'm trying, here, but it's so HARD to write these situations without going at least a LITTLE out of character. Oh well. The Flaming Lips blast through my stereo, and the little insomniac called Raven needs to get back to work. (INSOMNIACS OF THE UNIVERSE UNITE!) Now I see why so many artistic people are nocturnal... (Jhonen rocks!) Eh, I better go and work on the story before me rents find out I'm on the computer after midnight...damned parental units trying to kill my creativity...eh, whatever. Back to yer strangely scheduled program. singing oh, Yoshimi...they don't believe me, but you won't let those robots eat me, yoshimi...
Annette looked around the darkened house with a strange degree of calmness. She had seen her mother murdered just hours before, and now the killer was feeding her-sort of. The girl was lucky to be alive, but right about then, she should have been screaming at the top of her lungs and sprinting down the street to someone that could call the police.
Yet here she was, standing in a blood-stained kitchen, eating "skettios," as that scary man had called them. The stuff in the can looked like some sort of pasta, but Annette wasn't too sure that's what it was. After all, escargot didn't really look like snail when you dug it out of the shell, and it didn't taste like it, either.
I wonder if he's going to kill me in my sleep... thought Annette morbidly, swallowing a gooey spoonful of food. Ugh, this stuff is so disgusting...Tastes good, though...
There was a series of screams and thuds from the basement, followed by a strange gurgling sound like a clogged drain. Annette shivered, but decided not to investigate. She had the feeling that her mother was not this madman's only victim.
Annette wondered if anyone missed her yet. Probably not; they'd told the nice hotel woman that they'd be out for at least that night, if not longer. Her mother had said that they were on their way to meet Annette's father. Well, that certainly hadn't been him.
He looks like me, though. Annette shivered again. Stop thinking like that! He's a murderer! There is no way that you could be related to him! But he lived in the house Maman said he'd lived in...No. There was no way-
CRASH! Annette jumped. The can of skettios had fallen out of her hands and fell to the floor. She stooped to clean it up realized there was nothing around to mop the food up with, and stood again. Annette settled for scooping as much of it as she could back into the can and dropping the lot of it into the garbage can in the corner. Not very pretty, but it worked.
Dear God, it's messy in here. Annette tutted. Obviously there's been no women around lately. (Sexist, I know, but one: I'm a girl, so I can say whatever I damned well please, and two: Annette was raised in a very old-fashioned household. So there. No chidings, please. puppy dog eyes You wouldn't yell at me, would you? grins Thought so.) This place really must be cleaned up.
And so, for whatever reasons could be fathomed in her eight-year-old mind, Annette began what was the first actual cleaning the house of heaven had received since Nny had moved in.
A scream. Nny looked up, thought for a moment, and traced the sound. Female, yes, but older. Mid-twenties, alto speaking voice. Most likely the model on the floor above. Those scorpions had probably started to really sting by now.
It wasn't Annette, he was sure of that. Children had different voices, made different sounds. Not that he had ever captured one. No, he would never do that to a child, an innocent. The young hadn't had a chance to become the tormentors or the victims yet. But he had heard them screaming.
Ah, the innocence of children. The child being forced to eat dirt in the skoolyard, for instance. The ones who stood around and laughed. The little girl being pelted with spitballs and gum and playground balls. Their screams were different. Very different from the noises they made as adults.
Nny smiled. He was off on a tangent again. He tightened the straps around a cheerleader's arms and carefully selected a razor-sharp scalpel from a tray of instruments. His victim struggled, but the stitches on her neck made it plain why she made no sound. After all, how much sound could one make without vocal cords?
"Sadly, we'll have to make this fast," Murmured Nny to the girl, sizing her up for the first cut. "Hmm. I suppose we'll start on the organs in your abdomen. Seems such a pity to waste your struggles by going straight for the heart. Take the pain as an indication that you still live, cheerleader. Feel the pain you caused me and countless others!"
He had cut too deep. The girl's blood spilled out, along with her life, before Nny could even remove anything. What a waste of pain. He put the body away in a room reserved for the corpses he hadn't gotten a chance to bury yet. The two legless victims he had chained to the wall in the room screamed for him to let them out, but he ignored them as usual, only pausing to note that they'd survived for three weeks in his little morgue without food or water.
But back to Annette. Nny couldn't help feeling that he shouldn't leave a small child alone for long, especially in...well, yes, he'd better go see to it that the girl at least had a decent place to sleep. He wandered back up the stairs, counting the steps to the "normal" part of the house-if you considered bloody walls and random amputated limbs decomposing next to dolls stuffed with dead rats "normal."
777, 778, 779, 780. Nny opened the door, and a wave of some sort of soapy smell nearly knocked him back down all 780 steps. He swayed slightly, then looked around at a sight he didn't think would ever be seen in his home.
The place was clean. Not spotless, of course, but most of the blood had been washed off of the furniture and walls and floor. The rotting limbs of various victims had been thrown in the trash, four black bags that were heaped by the front door, and the floorboards gleamed dully. Everything had been scrubbed in the kitchen, all the dishes stacked in the cupboard, and there were fresh flowers in a glass on the table. Nny stared around wildly before bolting to the room he had considered his.
That too had been cleaned. Even his mot sacred of sanctuaries had not escaped the wrath of whatever had gone on this mad cleaning spree. The dresser was in order, the shards of glass swept up from underneath the mirror. Nothing remained of the grotesque dolls he used to have scattered about, and the manacles hung empty from the ceiling.
Nny did a double-take. Something was missing from his dresser. Well, not just one thing. Two.
Annette was curled up, fast asleep, on his bed, clutching tightly the Doughboys in her tiny pale hands.
Annette awoke to the sound of the scary man yelling at her in English. She didn't understand most of what he was saying, but it was clear from his tone that he was not happy. The little girl squeaked and cowered on the corner of the bed farthest away from him, still hugging the two little dolls she'd found on the dresser to her chest.
The man yelled at her some more, then ripped the dolls from Annette's arms. She started crying, terrified, and he stopped being so loud. He just stood there, digging his fingernails into the styrofoam figures and breathing heavily. Annette paused just long enough in her sobbing fit to watch him set the dolls back down on the dresser.
Then he turned back to face her, and Annette screamed. She buried her face in her arms and bawled, the curtain of her black hair hiding her eyes from her mother's killer. She felt the bed shift slightly as someone sat down next to her, and her heart pounded in her ears.
Suddenly, something poked through Annette's hair. She jumped, and a candy stick fell into her lap. She stopped crying and picked it up, recognizing the thing as one of the delicious, mouth-scalding treats the nice boy had given her. She unwrapped it and stuck it in her mouth, ignoring the man next to her.
He said something to her that she only barely understood. She'd heard the words enough by then to figure out what they meant. There was the word "crying" in there, that wet thing her eyes did when she was sad or scared, and "done," that meant stop. She could only assume that he was asking if she was finished with her bawling.
"Yes," she answered, another English word she'd heard before that seemed appropriate.
The man seemed surprised. He began to talk very fast and loud, running all his words together so that Annette was unable to understand anything except those words: "yes," "crying," and "done." But she may have been mistaken; there were plenty of words that, when strung together, could sound like them.
Annette just calmly finished her treat and waited for the man to stop talking. He finally did, and Annette spoke.
"Je suis fatigue. Bonne nuit, monsieur."
The man looked confused, so Annette curled up on the bed again and closed her eyes. She felt a barely perceptible shift, and he left the room. Annette smiled and fell asleep.
"Squee, get over here!"
Squee glanced over toward house number 777 and saw his neighbor waving at him. He sighed and put away his car keys, ambling over to where Nny stood.
"What is it?"
"That girl, the French one, she cleaned my house last night!"
"And this is so incredible because...Nny, I've got to get to skool."
"But I was just downstairs, um, well, you know, and then I went back up to make sure she hadn't killed herself, and she'd cleaned the place! I hadn't even told her to."
Squee rolled his eyes. "She probably got bored. Your house isn't exactly the cheeriest of places, you know."
"And I think she's starting to understand me! She started crying because I yelled at her for moving the Doughboys, and when I asked her if she was done bawling, she said 'yes!' English! A few hours and she's already answering questions!"
"Why are you telling me this now? Can't it wait until I get back?"
Nny paced back and forth in front of his annoyed neighbor. "I still don't understand her much, though, and she doesn't really understand me, either. I need you to translate for me."
"I need to get to skool-"
"It'll only take a minute!" Nny pulled him inside, grinning insanely.
"Annette!" he called, and the small girl ventured timidly out of the kitchen.
"Bonjour, Annette," murmured Squee by way of greeting, realizing that there was no way to get out of this.
"Bonjour, M-Squee. Ca va?"
"Ca va bien, merci. Et toi?"
"Tres bien." She stood there, looking at him expectantly.
(Note: around speech indicates that the speaker is talking in French. I is a lazy Raven. I take shortcut. )
"What? Oh, um... Nny wants me to translate something for him. " Squee listened to a long monologue from Nny. " He says he's very happy with your cleaning and that he hopes you were not too scared of his yelling last night. He was very tired and he's sorry if you are unhappy with him. He also says sorry about the killing your mom thing. Nny is so annoying sometimes. Don't mind it if he doesn't seem to care about you. He does care, but he's not used to having anyone near him, really. If you need anything, just keep saying 'get Squee' over and over again until he does. I'll be happy to translate for you. I have to go to skool now, though, so I'll see you in a few hours, okay? "
Annette nodded. " Tell him I wasn't scared last night, just tired and crabby. And thank him for the candy. It is very good. I hope you have a good time at skool. Oh, and before you leave, please tell Monsieur that I need different food and more clothes. I don't mean to be a burden, but I'm getting these clothes all dirty, and skettios get disgusting after awhile. Thank you again, Squee. Salut."
"Salut. I'll tell him. Take care. "
Squee relayed the information. "And make sure she gets food other than skettios. She's starting to get sick of them. And she wants more clothes. Annette says she doesn't want to make you mad, but she really needs new clothes. Maybe you can ask Dev-er, I mean, maybe you and Annette can go out shopping today. I've gotta go now. Bye."
He ran out the door, leaving the girl and the killer alone with their language barriers.
Nny looked down at Annette distastefully. "Wonderful. Now I have to go out and get you stuff. I have to go out amongst the maggots to get you food and clothing. God, I'm glad I never had kids."
Annette smiled and nodded like she understood. That was one thing, at least, that he liked about her. She always acted polite and was quieter than the other children he'd come across. That, and she acted like she understood him instead of gaping like an idiot.
"Well, come on. Let's get this over with."
He seized her hand roughly and left the house, pausing only to take some random notes from a small pile of cash under the floorboards. It was enough. Annette said nothing when he pointed at his car and opened the passenger side door; she just climbed onto the seat and fixed the seatbelt across her tiny chest.
The drive was uneventful. The two pedestrians Nny had run over were gone by the time they arrived at the mall, scattered across two miles of pavement. Annette looked only mildly disturbed as they walked into the noisy, crowded building.
"Find a store you like," Nny instructed her, not really expecting her to understand. He figured that when she saw something she liked, she'd gravitate toward that shop.
And he was right. Annette's ears perked up, and she immediately headed for a dark store with a sign above its round entrance reading "Hot Topic." Nny smiled when the dark music reached his ears from inside, and he followed her in without a fight. These places always had the best victims, after all.
One of the workers, a teenaged girl with a wild head of blue-black hair and a tattered nametag labeled "Raven," looked up and smiled at Nny when he walked in as if he was a frequent customer. Annette looked up at the girl, wide-eyed, and grinned before scampering off to look at clothes.
"Greetings, Stranger," called Raven to Nny. "How do ye be, four two be?"
"I be four two be just fine," he replied automatically, recalling dimly some sort of stupid little greeting he had heard teenagers use a time ago.
"That your daughter?"
Nny took a moment to realize that the girl had started talking again.
"What? Oh, not exactly. Close enough, I suppose. She wanted new clothes."
"You come here often?"
"I don't like crowds much."
"Me neither. Seems weird I'd work in a store like this, but at least most of the humans here are nice. Strange that a little girl would want to come here, though. I mean, we've gotten all types, but kids are a rarity."
"Annette just ran in here, so I thought I'd follow."
"Ah. Attracted by the music, probably. Yo, Tenna!"
A very hyper-looking young woman popped up from under the counter. "Yes'm?"
"Go help the kid find what she likes, okay? Her name's Annette. Right?"
"Er, yes." Nny started looking around warily, eyeing the exit like he planned on making a run for it.
"Will do, Rave!" Tenna jumped over the counter and sprinted over to Annette, squealing something about "TALK TO SPOOKY!"
Five minutes later, another shout from Tenna.
"Um, Rave, she doesn't speak English! I'm gonna try French, okay?"
"Go ahead...Honestly. Tenna's great, but sometimes she can get to annoying." Raven rolled her eyes. "You look scared. Is it the skeleton?" Raven fingered the arm of a, eighteen-inch rubber skeleton that hung around her neck on a long silver chain. "Nny doesn't bite, you know. She's a good girl."
"Pardon?"
"I said she's a good-"
"No, I mean what did you call it?" Nny stared almost creepily at the teen, and she laughed uncomfortably.
"Um, her name's Nny. I was going to call her Karasu, but she told me her name was Nny, so..." Raven blushed. "Stop staring at me!"
"Eh, sorry." Nny looked over the girl's head at the wall of concert tees in the back of the store. "It's just funny, sort of."
"What?"
"Your skeleton being named Nny. That's my name."
"Seriously? Damn, that's weird. I didn't think it was a common name."
"Yes, well-"
Annette suddenly catapulted into him, cutting off his reply. She had an armload of clothes, and Tenna, who catapulted into Raven a second later, had even more clothes, plus an armload of miscellaneous items that Annette had shown interest in.
"She said she likes this stuff!" exclaimed Tenna excitedly, tossing the merchandise onto the counter. "There's a bunch of shirts and pants and skirts and socks and underwear and hair stuff and nail polish and jewelry and a jacket and shoes and gloves and a lot of stuff!"
Annette added her armload to the pile and tugged on Nny's wrist, chattering away in French. He sighed, glanced at the amused Raven, and began sorting through the mound of stuff.
Eventually, they got it narrowed down to about half of the things Annette had pulled out. She refused to put anything else back, so Nny just took out his money and paid for an Emily shirt, two Zim shirts, a Gir shirt, a TNBC tank, an Emily dress, half a dozen pairs of jeans, ten pairs of socks in various designs and from various cartoons, three skirts, enough underclothes to keep her happy for years, a black trench coat, a pair of Doc Martens, three necklaces, a choker, two bracelets, an Emily journal, three pens, some elbow-length gloves, a TNBC hat, a hooded Emily sweatshirt, an Emily blanket, pillowcase, and sheets, more hair...things than Nny could count, a Sally doll, a Jack Skellington doll, and two DVDs-Invader Zim and the Nightmare Before Christmas. Raven announced the total, agreed to make it several purchases, and handed out more little stamp cards than she had that week.
"God, you two, buy out the whole store next time, okay?" she laughed, grinning at the two bag-laden shoppers. "Hope to see you around here again."
"Bye, Nny! Bye, Annie!" screamed Tenna over the screechings of some sort of industrial Goth-metal.
"Thank you. I'm sure we'll be back. Annette seems to like it here."
"You mean you don't know?" Raven raised an eyebrow.
"Well, eh, I don't speak much French."
"Weird. Work on it, kid. It's gonna get real old if you can't understand each other. Salut, Annette. Salut, Nny." Raven winked. "By the way, Devi says hi."
The two shoppers left, staggering under the weight of innumerable bags, and returned to Nny's car. Nny put what he could in the trunk and dumped the rest in the backseat. Annette happily curled up on in the passenger's seat and opened her new journal. Jack and Sally were curled around her neck, looking over her shoulder as she wrote.
"Do you want to stop by home so you can change?" Nny asked, getting into the driver's seat.
Annette nodded, but stared at him blankly.
Nny sighed, then mimed pulling a shirt over is head. "So you can get dressed. You know, change into something you bought today?"
"Ah, oui, monsieur!" Annette nodded again, this time actually comprehending what he'd said.
"Eh, oui...Annette." What the hell was that word Squee and Annette kept using? "Eh, bien. Tres bien."
Annette grinned and laughed before scribbling something down in the journal.
Dear Diary,
Today, that Nny person took me shopping so I could get some new clothes. He's not so bad once you get to know him. I think. He tried to talk to me in French. That was funny, but at least he's trying. Now he's looking at me like he's mad I won't tell him what I'm writing. It's not my fault that I don't know enough English to tell him. My mother-I'm not going to think about her. Nny is nice and he got me new clothes and this journal and my new friends, Jack and Sally. Plus he feeds me. I think I will be happy here. Mostly. More than I was with the lady. The lady was mean. She scared me. Nny is nice, even though he scares me sometimes too. I think he's more afraid of me than I am of him, though. Maybe we just need to get used to each other. And learn each others' language. Oh well. We'll save that for later. Now we're back at the house, and I have to change into some of my new clothes so we can go get more food. Goodbye!
-Antoinette (P.s. Nny calls me Annette because he says my real name's too hard to say. Isn't that funny?)
Annette got out of the car and carried as many bags as she could inside. They were deposited in the room with the dresser, but the dresser had been moved to another room. Nny had insisted that she use the room as her bedroom, even though it had been his room and his bed. He just mumbled something about the living room and had kept dragging the dresser out.
The little girl quickly delved through the bags and came up with a Gir shirt, a pair of jeans with one of Emily's cats on the pockets, the Doc Martens, some socks, the trench coat, and some jewelry. Nny waited patiently while she changed and fastened the jewelry on. Then she ran out with the shoes and trench coat, and Nny had to wait for her to tie the shoes and figure out whether or not she wanted to button or tie the coat. (She eventually decided on neither.) Then they were off again, this time on a food run.
Annette bounded through the doors of the supermarket first, chattering happily and trying not to trip over her own feet. Nny followed a second later, warily eyeing everyone and everything in the brightly-lit store. It was mid-afternoon, so the lighting was especially harsh. Annette, of course, paid no mind, but Nny cringed in the sheer blindingness of it all.
But even he could stay scared for so long with Annette giggling and running up and down aisles, pointing out items and investigating the coupon dispensers. Eventually, he just had to smile at the child's antics.
Until a very annoying cashier popped up behind him.
"Sir, is that your daughter?" he drawled, pointing at Annette, who was scaling the shelves in the canned foods aisle, looking for the best soups and juice.
"Yes..."
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to keep the brat under control, you fag."
Nny froze. "Excuse me? Did I just hear you correctly? Because I could have sworn that you referred to Annette as a 'brat,' and me as a 'fag.' That isn't proper language to use around a child."
Suddenly, there was a knife protruding from the cashier's skull. Nny distastefully watched the body fall, then continued on his way, catching the items Annette threw his way. The little girl didn't even look behind her to see what the commotion was about. This was probably a very good thing for her sanity.
A large crowd had, by this point, gathered around the body. Most people were too horrified to do much, but a few had gotten a head start on the screaming and panicking thing. And yet Annette remained blissfully unaware that Nny had just slaughtered a cashier.
"Are you done yet?" grumbled the madman in question, glancing at the nearly overflowing shopping basket...thing. (What the hell are you even supposed to call those things, anyway? ;; -Raven)
Annette hesitated for a second, then laughed. "Non, Monsieur."
Nny sighed and kept following, wondering if they would have to go through this very often. Another cashier got in his way, and the unfortunate irritant was quickly dispatched with another small dagger from Nny's pocket. The crowd really got going on the screaming thing, but neither Nny nor Annette paid any attention to them.
"Are you done now?" Nny snapped upon finally catching up with the French girl at the end of the cereal aisle. "I'd like to be going soon, if that's not a problem."
There was a dangerous edge in that last comment that even Annette understood. She smiled, nodded, and allowed herself to be led to the front of the store, where trembling cashiers gladly gave them the food at no charge at all. Those people were very nice. Nny made a mental note to stop by again next time he needed food.
"It's almost five. We should really be getting back home," muttered Nny to no one in particular.
Annette nodded, and Nny gave a small strangled sort of scream. The car peeled out of the lot, striking some sort of animal-or maybe it was a small child-as it tore down the road. The small girl clutched tightly to Jack and Sally, eyes widening noticeably at the ever-increasing number on the speedometer.
Two minutes later, Annette shakily stepped out of the car, gripping her dolls so tightly that her nails were actually starting to cut through the material of Sally's dress. Nny threw the bags of food through the door and trusted Annette to put the stuff away. He skulked into the living room with some sort of vague plan to go torture something and froze when a small rustling sound caught his attention.
"Hey, Nny." Squee greeted him with a small smile and leaned forward from his position on the couch. "Thought I'd stop by to check up on you two, but nobody was home. You really should lock the door. Where's Annete?"
"Kitchen. I didn't feel like putting away the food."
Squee smiled and looked over at the doorway to the kitchen. Annette had appeared at the sound of her name and was applying a layer of black gloss to her lips.
"Bonjour, Annette-For God's sake, Nny, what did you DO to her?" Squee stared, horrified, at the little girl in black.
"She saw a store she liked, Squee. It's not my fault she chose Hot Topic."
"Bonjour, Squee!" she squealed, running up to and hugging Squee. "Ca va?"
"Eh, ca va...et toi?"
"Ca va fantastique! Je te presente mes amis, Jack et Sally." She shoved her dolls in Squee's face and grinned happily when he shook their hands. "Aimes-tu?"
"Oui, Madame."
Nny made an impatient noise. Annette smiled, muttered a goodbye, and ducked out of the room. Then Nny and his neighbor were alone.
"You took her to Hot Topic."
"So it would seem."
"You took an eight-year-old to a gothic sanctuary."
"Yes."
Squee shook his head.
"What is it?"
"Nothing...I'm just wondering how anyone could be that screwed up. It's hard to believe, but then, I'm talking to a mass murderer."
Nny looked toward the kitchen. "Are you going to leave soon? I was planning on torturing some more cheerleaders."
"Fine. I need to talk to Annette for a second before I leave, though, okay?"
"Go right ahead."
Squee stood and wandered off toward the kitchen. Nny sighed and opened the basement door, wondering if the people in the morgue had expired yet..
"Annette?" Squee glanced around the eerily clean kitchen and spotted the girl at the counter, placing various canned foods into the cupboard under it.
"Oui, Squee?" Annette turned and smiled scarily.
"Eh... Are you and Nny getting along well? "
"Oui, tres."
" So he hasn't done anything...alarming yet? "
" Not really. "
" What do you mean, not really? "
" Well, there was some screaming sounds earlier, and more last night, but I think he was just angry about something. Screaming is good for getting rid of pent-up rage. "
" You know about his...problems, right? "
" Which ones? If you mean the insomnia, I noticed right away. "
" No, I mean his, er, more violent of habits. "
" Oh, of course. He is a very angry person. "
" It doesn't bother you at all? "
" I'm sure I'm going to have a lot of issues later on in life, but for now I'm fine. You get used to things. "
Squee shivered. " Not everything. "
" Are you well, Squee? "
A smile. " No, but I'll live. I'm more concerned for your health than mine. "
" I'll be fine, my friend. Your neighbor seems to have taken a liking to me. Still, if it makes you feel better, I promise to let you know if he goes crazy on me. " Annette grinned that same eerie grin again, the smile of a person who is dangerously close to insanity. " You should go. It is late, and you have skool tomorrow, if I am correct. Goodbye, Squee, and have a pleasant sleep. "
"Salut, Annette."
Squee shook his head and left feeling a little disturbed.
Annette awoke several weeks later to the sound of screams. Nny had apparently gotten pissed off again. She wondered if he was painting. The canvases hung randomly throughout the house seemed to be his works, but Annette had never seen him actually paint before. People did odd things when they were painting.
The French girl sat up and looked around her room, eyes scanning the many drawings she had taped to the walls. Countless flat faces of somehow terrifying ragdolls stared back at her from the papers, their soulless eyes seeming to watch her. She smiled. This room was hers already.
More screams and a thud. Annette got up and padded down the hall, wondering if maybe Nny had actually injured himself this time. The basement door was partially open, and so she took it as an invitation to venture down the creaky wooden stairs.
Yet another scream, this time ending in a gurgle. Something was not right. Annette followed the sound to a dimly lit room bare except for a wall of assorted knives and swords. Nny was kicking something into another room and shut the other door just as she came into view. He turned, and Annette was greeted by a very blood-drenched homicidal maniac.
Annette screamed. Nny tried to say something, but she was already tearing back up the stairs. The small girl bolted to her room, locking the door and shoving a chair under the doorknob to try to barricade it better. She hid under her blankets in the corner of her bed farthest away from the door and sat there, shuddering.
There was a knock on her door, and Annette's pulse skyrocketed further. She made no sound, and the man went away. Shakily, Annette pulled out her diary and hugged Jack to her chest as she wrote:
Dear Diary,
Something is horribly wrong here. That man, Nny, is a murderer. I knew from the start that he'd killed before, but I just saw him covered in new blood. There is something terribly twisted about him. I don't know why he's this way, but I'm terrified that he'll get me next, now that I know his secret. Oh, God, I hope he doesn't kill me. I did nothing to deserve to be looked after by a homicidal maniac. I don't think. But he seemed so nice, apart from the yelling at me thing. I guess sometimes a nice outside can be hiding a warped inside. I think Squee knows about it, too, because he asked me awhile ago if I knew about Nny's "violent habits." I assumed he'd meant the short temper, but I guess there was more to it than I thought at first. Maybe I should talk to Squee. He might know what to do. Until then, I just hope I can survive.
-Antoinette
She set the diary down and hugged Jack tighter, groping for Sally under the covers. A short time later, she was asleep again, having fainted from sheer terror.
Awhile later, something scraped across the floor. Annette awoke this time to see her door slowly opening. Nny stood in the doorway, most of the blood washed off. He looked almost ashamed as he crept up to the bed and sat down next to Annette.
"Annette, please don't be scared..." He stared at her, pleading. "I didn't mean for you to see that. I'm sorry. Little kids shouldn't see that kind of thing."
Annette jut looked back at him, wide-eyed and uncomprehending. Nny moved to put a hand on her shoulder, and she shrunk back with a squeak.
"Annette, I'm not going to hurt you. Dammit. I've got you scared out of your mind. Poor kid. I already said I'm sorry. Stop shaking."
The girl just stared and nodded mutely.
Nny sighed. "Well, then, I guess I should get you out of the house. Squee should be leaving for skool shortly. I think I'll have him take you with."
Annette brightened at the mention of Squee. Nny took note of this and left quietly, wondering how he was going to get his neighbor to let an eight-year-old French girl follow him around all day.
"What?"
"I said I'd like you to take Annette to skool with you."
"Nny, French isn't my only class, you know."
"I realize that. But Annette...is very distressed right now. I think getting her away from the house would do her good. And I'm not entirely sure she wants to see me anytime soon."
"Nny, I can't just take her with me to skool!"
"Please, Squee? Just for today."
"Well...fine. It's weird having you actually try to plead with me." Squee dumped his book bag in teh back seat of his car. "I'll go tell her that she's got ten minutes to get ready. You go...do whatever you do during the day."
Nny smiled gratefully and disappeared around the side of the house without another word.
Squee approached the girl's bedroom cautiously, not caring to get caught in the cross-fire of an eight-year-old's defense system. He found her still cowering in her bed, clutching her TNBC dolls. She looked up fearfully when he entered, but smiled in recognition of her friend.
" Are you okay, Annette? "
" Not exactly. Why are you here? "
" Want to come to skool with me today? "
" Okay. "
" You have ten minutes to get ready. "
" I'll make it. "
Squee left the room and sat down on the couch in the living room to give Annette some privacy. She emerged a few minutes later with a black Emily shirt and jeans on. A few necklaces were fastened around her neck, and she was putting her hair up into a messy ponytail. Annette paused only to put on her trench coat and Doc Martens, and then they were off.
(Author's note: DAMMIT! MERDE! AND OTHER SUCH CURSES! I think I may have to go for multiple chapters on this one. NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! WHY MUST I ENDURE THE THING I SO HATE?!?!?!?!?! Eh, if you haven't guessed, chapters are the bane of my existence. Damn, though. O well. I think I'll just go for, like, four reeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyy long chapters or something, because fifty short ones would kill both me and anybody weird enough to actually READ this horribly warped piece of fiction. Eh, whatever. Back to yer regularly scheduled program.)
Annette remained eerily quiet through the car ride to the hi skool. Squee looked over at her frequently, nestled as she was in the seat next to him, clutching those creepy dolls. She never looked back.
They went to the main office upon arriving and got Annette a visitor's badge with her name scribbled on it in her neat childish scrawl. Squee made sure that she was holding tightly to his hand before braving the crowded halls and making his slow way to his first class. The little girl did not seem unnerved by the sheer volume of people surrounding her, or at least she made no outward signs of her discomfort.
French was second hour. They made it through first hour with only a short explanation of why Squee had brought an eight-year-old with him to skool, but French would require a more in-depth explanation. Squee slowly approached the dim classroom, dreading the inevitable interrogation.
"Bonjour, Todd," called the teacher, Mme DeFleur, looking interestedly at Annette. "Bonjour, mademoiselle."
"Bonjour, Madame. Je te presente Antoinette."
"Bonjour, Madame. C'est Annette, s'il vous plait." Annette gave a tiny bow and averted her gaze from the tall professor.
" Who is this, Todd? I didn't know you were bringing a guest. "
" Please, Madame, Squee's friend is looking after me since my mother died. I was getting tired of us not understanding each other, though, so Squee was nice enough to take me here. I hope I won't be too much trouble. "