I don't own JTHM or Billy Talent, though I'd be happy if I did.
Nocturnal Dementia
V: Surrender
Devi sat on her couch, staring emotionlessly at the painting that stood on the creaking easel before her. It wasn't complete yet, but she had a feeling that she was going to finish it soon…
Now that Johnny C was back in town.
She didn't understand how he somehow knew that she was going to be attacked on the streets earlier that evening. She didn't understand how he just left without saying a word. She-
Ring, ring.
The phone echoed through the halls and Devi jumped out from her seat in surprise. She picked up the phone with a shaky hand and held it to her ear.
"Hello?" She asked, trying her best to conceal her nervousness. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she heard Squee's adolescent voice grunting on the other end of the line.
'Devi, the Scary Neighbour Man dropped by an hour ago. I just thought you wanted to know." Squee murmured somewhat sarcastically. Devi held back a gasp.
"H-he did? What did he say?"
"Ah, nothing much. He just dropped in to see how I was doing, and he mentioned you a couple of times. He was surprised when I told him that I knew you." Squee explained. Devi could hear the boy opening a medicine bottle in the background.
"Um…did you tell him anything else?" She asked, balancing the phone on her shoulder as she made her way towards the easel. She bent down to pick up the palette and she squirted a few bottles of oil and paint onto it.
"No, not really. He just wanted to know when I was going to talk to you again." Squee said quietly. Devi heard the sound of a tap being turned on.
"And…what did you say?" She asked, dipping her brush into the blob of dark coloured paint. She began wiping her brush against the bottom part of the canvas, covering the blank spot with a blackish colour.
"I told him that I'll talk to you whenever I felt like it. Coincidentally, I felt like talking to you now, so I simply called you to give you the heads up." Squee mumbled. He paused for a few minutes to pop the pills into his mouth and to down it all with a glass of water. "Are you gonna talk to him sometime soon?"
Devi nearly dropped her paints at the question. Was she planning to talk to him? Did she even have the guts to talk to him?
"I would…I seriously would…but…" She stammered. Squee picked up from where she left off.
"You would, but you can't…I know. I understand. You're not the only person he's been creeping out for the past seven years. Look, if you want to talk to him, I'll give you his number. Call me if you need anything, okay?" Squee gave Johnny's number to her and hung up soon after a mumbled goodbye. Devi stared at the crumpled gum wrapper clutched in her trembling hand. She managed to scribble the seven digits (minus the area code) onto the wrapper, but she wasn't sure if she was actually going to use them. She set her palette and brush aside and sat on the couch. As if her hand had a mind on its own, she reached for the telephone.
--
Dear Die-ary,
It's annoying to return home after an extended period of time, hoping to forget about nearly everything that once plagued your mind while you were there, only to find out that you haven't forgotten them, only merely set it aside. Maybe the Doughboys were right when they said that the walls of my mind will be stained forever. I've been trying to scrub the stains off for seven years but they still remain the same. I promised you that the next time I write in this book that I will be as cold as the moonlight…but I guess I'm sorry to say that I lied. I failed.
Fuck. I guess I'm not as smart as I think I am.
-Johnny C.
Johnny slammed the notebook shut and threw the pencil away. He stood up and made his way towards one of the boarded up windows, where he stared through the gaps, looking at a seemingly perfect world.
The sun was out. The sky was blue. There were even children outside, skipping rope, riding on bicycles, drawing on driveways with sidewalk chalk. It seemed like such a perfect scenario. To anyone it would've been perfect. To Johnny it was practically a velvet curtain covering the stage behind it.
She reads a book from across the street,
waiting for someone that she'll never meet.
Talk over coffee for an hour or two,
She wonders why I'm always in a good mood.
Killin' time before she struts her stuff,
She needs support and I've become the crutch.
She'll never know how much she means to me.
I'd play the game but I'm the referee.
Johnny's head whipped to the side, where he found an old stereo propped up on a stool, playing Billy Talent's Surrender on full blast. He cringed at first-he didn't really like any other genres of music except for classical, but for some reason he found this song compelling. He left the radio be…for now.
Surrender every word, every thought every sound.
Surrender every touch, every smile, every frown.
Surrender all the pain we've endured until now.
Surrender all the hope that I lost you have found.
Surrender yourself to me.
Sometimes he found himself wondering what it would've been like if he wasn't criminally insane. He knew that he wasn't like this from the start, but he can't even remember what he was like before. Like he mentioned before, he only remembered the 'typical shit'. He couldn't remember any specific details, like what he was like, who his parents were, even the street he grew up on.
What if Johnny C. wasn't criminally insane? What if he didn't have a severe chemical imbalance?
He would've probably been a nice person to talk to, a good friend to be around with. He liked friends. He never had any real ones for all he could remember, but he saw people with their friends. They seemed like a good thing to have with you. He'd never be lonely if he had friends.
What about Devi? She was your friend…up until that whole knife attack thing.
Ah yes, Devi D, the non-removable stain occupying the walls of his mind. She was there…she was always there. She has been stuck in his head for the past seven years and it looked like she wasn't planning to move anytime soon.
Even though I know what I'm lookin' for,
She's got a brick wall behind her door.
I'd travel time and confess to her,
But I'm afraid she'd shoot the messenger.
He still wanted her, he admitted it. He thought that he succeeded in relinquishing all human emotion. He thought he was free of all the useless wants that distracted a person from properly living their lives. Devi D. proved him wrong.
He still longed for her. After seven years of forcing himself out of the emotional machine he was, he still liked her. He knew that she wouldn't like him the same way ever again, after what he attempted to do to her. He still remembered how she screamed at his message over the phone.
I think I found a flower in a field of weeds,
I think I found a flower in a field of weeds.
Searching until my hands bleed,
This flower don't belong to me.
He knew that it was way out of character for him to feel any sort of emotional or physical wanting for another person. He's been hating that sort of attraction ever since he could remember (which in fact, isn't that far back). He wished Nailbunny was here. Nailbunny always gave him good advice. Nailbunny was the only voice, the only alternative personality that was worth listening to.
Nailbunny was right when he said it wasn't polite to try and take Devi's life. He knew that. He didn't know what came over him though. Stupid Doughboys, it was their fault. The ghoulishly repainted pastry mascot stands have been twisting and warping his mind over the years, mutating Johnny C. into the…the thing he was now. He didn't even want to call himself human. He's done so many inhumane things to other people.
He attempted to murder the only person he ever cared about, and he knew that was wrong.
Oh, Nailbunny, where are you?
I think I found a flower in a field of weeds,
I think I found a flower in a field of weeds.
Searching until my hands bleed,
This flower don't belong to me.
This flower don't belong to me.
Why could she belong to me?
He really wanted to talk to Devi. He wanted to, but he was afraid to at the same time. He wanted oh so desperately to sort things out to her, to explain what the hell's going on with him, but he knew she would never understand. How could he tell her about the head noise continuously echoing in his skull and the seemingly bottomless torture basement? How could he explain about the killings and how there was reason behind them? How could he tell her that he once had to drain blood to paint a wall with an unmentionable figure behind it, and it broke out and most likely killed a lot of people? How could he tell her that he's accidentally killed himself, gone to heaven and hell, and met God and Satan?
She'd think he was a lunatic-of course, that would be the solid truth, but still, Johnny's experience was pretty hard to believe.
He really wanted to tell her though.
He needed her to be there for him.
Surrender every word, every thought every sound.
Surrender every touch, every smile, every frown.
Surrender all the pain we've endured until now.
Surrender all the hope that I lost you have found.
(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask,
(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?
(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask,
(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?
(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask,
(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?
Johnny let out a shaky sigh and wiped the tears from his eyes. He didn't even notice them until he saw droplets falling from somewhere onto the cracked windowsill. A sudden bubble of anger swelled inside of him.
Nobody cares about Johnny C, NOBODY!
You are far beyond redemption this time, Johnny C.
There is no use trying to mend broken pieces that are too small, too sharp to be put back together!
"NO! SHUT UP, SHUT UP! YOU'RE GONE, YOU'RE GONE! FUCK YOU!" Johnny screamed. He stared at the old workbench at the other side of the room, where the unmoving statues of Mr. Eff and D-Boy stood. In less than a second Johnny sprinted over to them and hoisted both Styrofoam statues up into the air.
"I'm through with being a slave, you fucks. I'm FREE!" He screeched, and threw them onto the floor. He raised a menacing black boot over them.
"No more." Johnny C whispered tearfully, and brought his boot down with excruciating force. He stomped, he jumped, he practically threw a tantrum over the Doughboys, which were now pounded into hundreds of small pieces of broken Styrofoam. The music played loudly in the background, blending in with Johnny's mixed emotions.
I never had the nerve to ask.
He was exhaling loudly, and even beads of sweat trickled from his forehead and temples. His eyes were flashing violently.
"I'm finished with you." He muttered, grabbing a bat resting against the desk. He approached the stereo wordlessly, and with one mighty swing, he hit the stereo with the bat, sending it spiraling out of place and onto the floor, all cracked and sizzling with fizzled wires. The music stopped.
A calming sensation washed over and Johnny sat on the floor, exasperated and exhausted. He cradled his spiky head in his hands, trying to find inner peace.
Riiiiiiing!
The phone was ringing. It was always such a big deal when someone called Johnny's house, since no one called at all. The last time there was a phone call, there was a gun hooked up to the phone and he ended up accidentally blowing a hole in his own head.
This time, there was no robotic arm holding a gun. It was just the phone, unless there was an invisible pistol aimed at him. Shaking off the thought, Johnny made his way to the phone and picked it up. Wiping the last of his tears, he spoke in a shaky, choky voice.
"H-hello?"
He froze when he heard Devi's voice on the other end.
"Johnny, we need to talk. Do you mind if I drop by or something?"
Johnny took a quick look around. The crushed stereo was muffling incoherent noises in the corner. There were smashed bits of Styrofoam everywhere. There was a pile of bloody knives stowed away in another corner, and there was a dusty chainsaw hanging on the wall. A freshly mutilated human arm sat on the foot of the staircase.
Maybe it wasn't such a good idea.
"Uh…can we just meet somewhere or something?" He asked, trying his hardest to conceal the precariousness in his voice.
"Um…okay. Meet me up on the hill in fifteen. I'll see you there."
Click.
Johnny stared at the phone for a few silent seconds. He didn't really feel like going out at the moment, but Devi said that she wanted to talk to him, and he really wanted to talk to her. He might as well take advantage of this.
After all, when was the last time Devi asked him 'out'?