Nocturnal Dementia

VIII: Paint and Oil

Johnny has always been in front or outside Devi's apartment, but he's never been inside it, for all he remembered.

It was small, but it suited Devi. The walls were covered with abstract paintings, all created by her.

"I remember you telling me that you were an artist…but wow. Your work's amazing." He said in admiration as Devi led him to the living room. A small tinge of pink burned on Devi's cheeks and she quickly turned away so he wouldn't see.

"Oh, the things you're capable of doing when you have so much time on your hands." Devi replied sarcastically. Now it was Johnny's turn to turn pink.

He sat down on the couch while Devi rushed somewhere else to get some medical supplies. Johnny leaned back to awe at the artwork. There were frames of all different sizes, containing paintings with conceptual paintings of faces, landscapes, and just random shapes stacked on top of each other.

Faint memories of Johnny's sane past flooded into his head as he continued to stare at Devi's work.

Fuzzy images clouded his mind. He suddenly remembered his own artwork, the dark creations dug up from the crevasses of his mind. He faintly remembered painting in a large space, but he wasn't sure if it was a studio or his own home, the home before the shack he lived in now.

It was the first time he ever remembered anything from his past.

Why couldn't he paint like that anymore? Somehow the creature that used to reside behind one of the walls in his present house sucked the creativity out of him, resorting to that damned stick figure, Happy Noodle Boy (which was incredibly hilarious, according to the homeless insane). Johnny stared down at his hands, which were covered with blotches of dried blood. Fresh blood was still oozing from the cuts his nails made on his palms.

These hands were once used to create.

Now they were used to destroy.

Two total complete opposites that dwell inside one body.

"I'm back." Devi's voice cut off Johnny from his thoughts, and he turned to see her with some medical gauze, rubbing alcohol, and a small bag of cotton balls cradled in her arms. She sat beside him and opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and dabbed a cotton ball on the top. She beckoned for Johnny to hold out his hand.

"So where's this thing that you wanted to show me?" Johnny asked slowly, wincing in between as the alcohol stung his hand. Devi motioned for him to switch hands and she began swabbing it gently.

"You'll see once I'm finished with this." She mumbled. She tossed the now red cotton ball on the coffee table and unfolded the gauze. She ripped it in two pieces and wrapped each piece around Johnny's hands.

"How does that feel? Too tight? Too loose?" She asked, poking one of his hands. Johnny smiled and gave her the thumbs up to indicate that the gauze was fitting perfectly. She nodded in reply and stood up. She pointed a few feet across from them. Johnny turned towards where she was pointing to see an easel covered with an old paint stained tarp.

"You were gonna show me a painting?" He asked curiously. Devi shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah, but it's not any ordinary painting. I started this about a month after you…err…our date. It's not finished yet, but I might as well show you what I have so far." She answered, and with a flick of her wrist, she removed the beige sheet to reveal the painting underneath. Johnny stared at it questionably, but then he instantly recognized it and his mouth opened in a slight gasp.

The painting wasn't finished yet, and it showed because there were still a few blank spots in the middle of the canvas, but other than that, the rest of it was breathtaking. It was a landscape watercolor image of the view on the hill, with the wooden fence, the dead tree, and the spectacular view of the city below it. The middle of the canvas was left blank, right beside the dead tree. The blank space was quite large, as if there was supposed to be something important there.

"It's almost done." Johnny commented. He stood up and approached the artwork to get a closer look.

"I keep having this dream whenever I sleep, but whenever I wake up I'd forget most of it. The parts I remember though-I would paint it out on this canvas. Seven years later, this is what I came up with." Devi said softly. Johnny's eyes glazed over the painting.

"This…this is supposed to be a rendition of that night we spent at that hill, isn't it? We were looking down…that conversation…" He started trailing off and was lost in his own thoughts. Devi didn't even reply; she was caught up in her own thoughts.

So he remembers, but does he remember more than I do?

"Do you remember how it was like? Do you remember what we talked about? Whenever I try thinking back, the image would just tune out and I can't remember any of it. The closest I can ever get to getting a clear picture is when I sleep." Devi muttered exasperatedly. She plopped back on the couch and laid her head back. Johnny continued staring at the picture.

"I remember pieces of it…bits and fragments…like you, I see it in my dreams, but then it becomes vague to me when I'm awake. Plus, it's not like I sleep everyday." He explained, as if sleeping everyday wasn't normal. Devi raised an eyebrow at what he said, but she shrugged it off and laid back to stare at the ceiling.

"It's frustrating…spending seven years on something…and knowing you can probably never finish it." She muttered. She felt the couch sink in a little, indicating that Johnny took a seat beside her.

"I know how you feel." He replied silently. She nodded and closed her eyes.

He was here now…she knew he could help her finish the painting.

But how long was he going to stay?

She needed more time…more time with him.

She couldn't finish the painting alone, she knew that for sure. She needed him to be there, to help recreate this forgotten memory.

A memory that they had both forgotten.

Maybe-

BOOM!

Thunder rolled across the sky and the ceiling lights flickered on and off, cutting off Devi's train of thought. Eventually, the lights stopped flashing, and everything went dark. The noise was followed by a heavy pitter-pattering sound of what seemed like a tsunami of rain hitting against the walls and windows.

"Ah shit…heavy storm. No power." Devi grunted. She stared out the window. She could hardly see anything; the rain was too thick.

"Yeah…uh, I think I should go before it gets any worse." She heard Johnny mumble uncomfortably. She grabbed his thin arm before he even thought of leaving the couch.

"Nny, it's already as bad as it is outside, and plus…I was wondering if you'd help me finish the painting." She said quietly. Johnny blinked at her in silence.

She wanted him to stay?

She wanted Johnny C, the guy that attempted to kill her, to stay?

"Devi, I don't know…I don't think it's such a good idea." He answered. He tried wriggling out of Devi's grip, but she was holding on too tight.

"Why would it be a bad idea?" She asked. She realized that she was still holding onto his arm and she sheepishly let go. Rubbing the spot where Devi grabbed him, Johnny cleared his throat before speaking.

"Well…you obviously remember what I tried to do to you seven years ago…and…"

"Oh c'mon Nny, don't tell me that you're still not over that 'I tried to kill you' shit. Think of a better excuse. We've tried avoiding each other for seven years, only to wind up where we started. Look, you don't have to stay the entire night if you don't want to-at least a couple more hours, or when the storm dies down. Please Nny, this whole painting situation has been eating me alive for the past seven years since you left, and now that you're back, that eating feeling has lessened its impact. I don't know what it is, but something's telling me that you're the only one that can help me finish this." Devi exhaled deeply and slumped on the couch. Johnny's downcast gaze intensified and he began playing with his hands.

Devi's words seemed to have blown a hole through Johnny's chest. His twisted head was contemplating, reviewing what she just told him.

Should he?

"Devi…you know, I used to paint like you. I don't know what happened. I don't know if I can exactly help you…I've lost my only known talent to an unknown inner monster of mine (he inwardly added 'well, not really unknown…and inner…but let's not get into that'), and it's what sort of triggered my…sickness. I used to create things, Devi, but now I do the exact opposite. Can't you see? What I used to express through paint and canvas is now seen through knives, blood, and gore. I can't do it…" His voice escaped him and he suddenly felt dizzy. He cradled his head in his hands. A few seconds of silence later, he felt Devi's gentle fingers running through his hair. At first the thought of flinching crossed his mind, but he soon forgot about it and let the situation be.

"Johnny, you can't lose your talent. It's a gift that's been given to you by…whoever created us. You didn't lose your talent for good; maybe you just simply, uh, misplaced it. You can't lose what's been given to you Nny…believe me, I should know." Devi said quietly. Her green eyes were also cast to the floor. Johnny turned to look at her crestfallen face, and his heart suddenly split into two. He hated it when Devi was depressed, especially when it was him that caused her to be depressed in the first place. He seriously rethought his decision, and when he was finished, he turned to face her again.

"Alright, I'll stay. I don't know what it is, but something's telling me to." He added with a shy grin. Devi smiled in return and nodded. On sudden impulse, Devi laid her hand on top of Johnny's. Inside, her head was screaming, but she managed to keep herself under control. Johnny, on the other hand, had eyes as wide as saucers and he couldn't seem to keep them fixed on anything else but their hands.

"Thanks Nny. I mean it." She whispered. All Johnny could do was nod and smile in return. His nerves had the best of him at the moment.