Disclaimer: I do not own anything that already belongs to Jhonen Vasquez or Slave Labor Comics.
Johnny looked in the mirror. It was seven in the morning and he did not sleep well the night before. He looked rather groggy and his eyes bloodshot. A shower now and then probably wouldn't kill him.
The faucet squeaked loudly as he turned the water off. He vigorously shook his head and droplets of hard shower water from his shaggy wet hair flew everywhere. His pale skin was blotched red from the scalds he endured every time he showered. Steam poured out of the bathroom as he opened the door and ventured down the hallway. In his room, he pulled a black long sleeve shirt with coattails with fine white letters that read 'Kiss me, I'm Insane' from the very disheveled dresser drawers.
He rummaged through his refrigerator, which was more like searching through a jungle for the milk. He dealt himself a glass and slid two pieces of slightly moldy bread into the toaster. A 'thud' at his door informed him that the paper had been delivered. He retrieved the paper from his front doorstep. He scrolled through the headlines.
"Let's see," he mumbled, "Mutant baby found…two employees found dead at the 24/7, drained of blood this time…Yadda yadda yadda…Herd of eight-legged moose rampage Canada…AHA! The Funny Comics!"
His whole morning was entertained by the cheesy little comic strips in the Sunday paper. Once the papers were read, the toast was consumed, and the milk dumped down the drain for being expired, he sat there at his unsteady kitchen table. He listened carefully to the silence of his house. There were no voices of the objects in his mind to persuade him, no noises of people awaiting their death in his basements, nothing. But the sound of distant voices pricked his ears.
It was Squee, "Rosie! You're here!"
Johnny snuck up to the window and peered through the boards that blocked it.
"Hello Squee," she gasped, "What happened to Shmee!"
He observed from across the driveway. Squee was holding his faithful teddy bear with tender care. Shmee no longer had his head attached to his body. Fluff and cotton protruded from his open neck and top.
Squee looked at his friend with sad eyes, "Daddy ripped his head off. Daddy says he hates Shmee and that he hates me too."
"Well," Rose took the decapitated Teddy Bear, "Maybe I can get Yoko to fix it. She's pretty handy with a needle and thread."
Johnny noticed that Rose didn't deny the fact that Squee's father hates him. It seemed like anyone else would have said something like 'He doesn't mean that' or 'deep down inside, I bet your dad loves you'. By the way she hears the stories of his cruelty; she wasn't in any form to defend his father's actions and statements. He was too awful of a man.
Rose gave Squee a tight hug, "No matter what, Squee, I will always love you."
Johnny could see it in Squee's teary eyes and happy smile. He wanted to call Rose his mom. He couldn't blame him. Johnny would rather have his little buddy in Rose's care than his parent's. Of course, he couldn't help but wonder how much Rose was getting paid to watch over Squee from morning until late at night. But knowing how modest she was, not nearly as much as she deserves.
Rose held Squee's hand as they journeyed down the sidewalk to the park. Johnny watched them until they disappeared. When they did, he turned around and slouched against the wall, where he sank to the floor. He saw a rat scramble across the floor.
What am I? Am I a stalker? No, stalkers are sickening perverts that don't leave someone alone. Either way, I want to see Rose again. Not just from a distance, but to spend time with her. I still wonder how she was able to purify me. Well, at least how she made me want to throw away my goal of being cold and emotionless. Because now, it seems like a rather heartless thing. And I, Johnny Colt, do have a heart.
He had Squee as proof of that, and he had Rose to re enforce it.
The day came and went. Evening was arriving after a day of hiking in the outer city forest trails. Now they just wanted to relax. Squee and his guardian were waist deep in another painting lesson in the park. They as sat next to each other near the elm trees. Rose was able to find Squee his very own little easel, which was a dollar at a garage sale she walked by yesterday. Rose opened a tube of forest green oil paint while Squee used his favorite temperate Kids' Colors paints.
"When you add color to white, it's called a shade. When you add color to black, it's called a tint." Rose informed her student, who was a bit preoccupied with his own masterpiece.
Rose looked over his shoulder to see exactly what he was painting. Her jaw dropped. It was a crude and slightly stick-figured painting of a man with a black trench coat, gloves, boots, and red spiky hair.
"Uh, Squee?" Rose asked, "Who is that?"
He dabbed at more red paint, "His name is Ned. He came over to my house last night."
Rose gulped, "He did? What did he want?"
He scratched his little head, "Well, first I thought it was Johnny asking for something at my window again. But it wasn't Johnny. Ned said he was just my imaginary friend and that he really wasn't there. But I knew he wasn't, because Shmee is my imaginary friend."
"Well, did Ned do anything weird?" she pressed on to the child, a little worried.
"Nope. He said he wanted a friend. He also said he saw you the night when I stayed at your house. He thinks you're really pretty." Squee stroked more black onto Ned's painted coat.
Rose suddenly grew very red. A familiar voice snaked up to them.
"And I still do," the purr of Ned came into their conversation. It made Rose jump a bit.
She turned around. There he was right behind them in that trench coat. This time, he had the dark goggles over his eyes. His coat rippled in the light wind that was approaching.
"Hello, Ned." Rose tried to return to her painting, but it seemed almost impossible not to be a bit nervous.
"I must say, you look lovely today, Miss Rose." He gave a polite bow.
She didn't see exactly what the compliment was about. Today she wore a dark blue denim skirt and a green tank top and flip flops, pretty plain to be precise. Either way, Ned complimented her.
"Thank you," she didn't look at him.
There was something about Ned that Rose didn't like. Even though he was polite, to some extent, and interesting, something about his oddly sharp canine teeth gave him an almost evil image. Rose gave herself a mental slap.
Rose! Don't be like that! Just because he looks a little sinister doesn't mean he's a monster or something. Try being a little more open to him. You might have hurt his feelings.
"Um, Ned, Squee here says you visited him last night," Rose looked at Squee, him still fixed on his painting.
"Yes I did," Ned began to watch Squee, "By the way, little Squee, did you give Rose that thing I asked you to give her?"
Squee had a confused look on his face. He had no idea what Ned was talking about, "What?"
Ned leaned in, "The thing you left in your pocket."
Squee immediately started searching through his coat pockets, not knowing what he was looking for. Eventually his hand came back holding a little black box tied in a dark red ribbon.
"I shall give it to you later, "Ned lightly took the box from Squee's hand, "But now, night falls. I give you my services to escort you and Squee home safely."
Rose looked at her watch, "He's right, Squee, the park closes after sundown."
They packed their painting equipment into Squee's backpack while Rose carried her canvas. With much persuasion and persisting, Rose agreed to let Ned walk them home. After all, he would follow them the whole way begging. They had arrived at Squee's house just after the sun and sunk below the uneven ridge of buildings in the city horizon.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Squee." Rose gave the little one his hug goodnight and he hurried inside. The door was left wide open for once instead of being locked. He closed it softly behind him. She turned around and ran into Ned's chest, after he was standing so close behind her.
"Rose," Ned stood before her on the sidewalk and held out his hand holding the little black box, "For you, milady."
Rose picked the box from his hand and slowly opened it. A tiny flash lit her eyes. The case snugly held a brilliant gold ring with three large crimson stones. It was perfectly cut and shined like the sun. Never before had she received a surely expensive gift.
"A small token of my admiration, Miss Rose," Ned purred, grinning from her wide-eyed reaction.
Who is this man? Johnny wondered as he observed Rose and the stranger from his window. It seemed rather awkward that he was standing there with Rose in the dark out on the lonely sidewalk. A burning sensation started boiling up in the pit of Johnny's stomach. What was this? Was it jealousy? It certainly was when the man about his age gave her a little black velvet box. It certainly was even more when her eyes lit up from the sight of a shiny ring.
Who was I fooling? Apparently whatever I lacked, he seems to have. It's obvious because it looks as though no girl can turn down a crummy piece of jewelry. Maybe I should have gotten Rose a gift. Maybe her eyes would light up for me if I bought her something expensive, with no money…
Johnny disappeared to his basement. He crumpled to the floor stained with dry blood. His mind raced as his body laid there as idle as a dead fish on land. His spirit was broken and his heart scarred.
"Oh, Ned, I can't accept this!"
He smiled, "But you must. It was given to me by my father's bride-to-be before she died upon her death bed. She told me to hold on to it for her."
She snapped the lid shut and handed it back to him, "If that's the case, you should wait and give it to the special woman you want to marry."
His face became dark. Ned gave a sinister smile, revealing his sharp fangs, "That's exactly what I plan to do.
Maybe if Squee wasn't thrown into a closet by his father or Johnny was a few levels higher, they would have heard her scream for help.
The Maiden of Light: Sorry this one took a little longer. I've been really, REALLY busy. I'm trying to invent my own comic series. Anyways, I have a question you can answer in a review. Is my story writing hard, moderate, or easy to follow along with? If it's too hard, I ease up a bit. Please let me know! Read, Review, and Rebel! paints her face white and blue and takes up a Scottish accent Freedom! I am Brave hart, and I fight for freedom!