It's nearly dawn now. The sky is getting lighter outside. It looks so perfect from far away.
This is probably the longest chapter I've ever written before.
Warning: Major I Feel Sick spoilers dead ahead!
Nocturnal Dementia
IX: Realization
It was nearly 2 am and Johnny C. wasn't sleeping.
Devi was curled up on the couch, her hair out of their usual pigtails and sprawled out around her head.
The storm was still coming down hard. The raindrops were hitting against the window so hard Johnny thought it would break the glass.
The room was silent, except for the pitter patter of the rain, the occasional boom of the storm, and Devi's steady breathing.
It was dark.
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room for a split second, but it was long enough for Johnny to take notice of the painting standing a few feet away from where he was sitting.
It looked so eerie in the dark. The storm wasn't helping to lighten the mood either.
The painting was compelling.
"Devi's an amazing artist, don't you think, Nny?"
Nailbunny's deceased body was floating listlessly beside the painting. Johnny rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing things correctly.
"Nailbunny? I-I thought you were in…"
"Johnny, this isn't the time."
"Oh, right. Yes, Devi is quite the artist." Johnny muttered vaguely, his eyes fixed upon the unfinished painting. Faint flashes of his past flicked in his mind.
Oil and paint…
A blank canvas stretched out before him…
The graceful stroke of the paintbrush…
"It's all so soft, so subtle. It doesn't feel right, bunny. This environment's giving me the chills. It's like coming back to a familiar place that I can't even remember, if that makes any sense." Johnny sighed. He got up and approached the canvas. He eyed the set of paintbrushes on the floor underneath the easel, along with a washed palette and a few bottles of paint and oil. A tingly feeling raced in between Johnny's fingers and on impulse, he picked up the palette.
"Fuck, who am I trying to kid? I can't even paint anymore-I'm not even sure if I still know how to hold a damn brush properly!" He growled.
"Shh! Not so loud, Nny! In case you forgot, there's somebody sleeping in the room!" Nailbunny warned, and Johnny whirled around to check up on Devi. She didn't seem affected by the noise he was making. She was still huddled on the couch, snoring lightly. He sighed in relief and continued staring at the palette.
"I lost my only known talent to that thing behind the wall. It was slowly suckling at my creativity and I didn't even realize it. I was growing weaker, more vulnerable to the creature behind that wall that I had to keep feeding. It devoured me whole, making me think that I was hearing my own voice inside my head, when it was really that creature in the form of me. I've lost clarity of who I once was, bunny. I don't know who I am anymore." Johnny said sadly. His eyes were brimmed with tears and they slowly dripped from his face to the palette.
"Nny, you can't lose a talent. I swear Devi already told you that (Nny tried questioning how Nailbunny knew, but the deceased animal ignored him). Like she said, talents are gifts given to the living by their creator. These talents dwell inside a person; they are a part of who that person is. To lose these talents means to lose a part of yourself, to simply forget something important. Nny, you may be lost, but you know who you are, at least most of who you are. You may be taking another path than most other people, but that doesn't mean you've lost sight of who you are." Nailbunny reassured. Johnny shook his head and automatically picked up a brush and a bottle of black paint.
"But I don't even remember my past. They say the past makes up a large portion of who you are. Whenever I try to think back, the images are distorted and the sounds are inaudible. It's like watching TV underwater, for Christ's sake." Johnny countered. He squirted a small black blob onto the palette. He gently placed the black bottle on the floor and picked up a purple one.
"I don't even know why I'm filling up this palette." He added glumly.
"Maybe it's because something inside of you is trying to tell you that you haven't lost anything at all." Devi's voice, sounding dreadfully tired, approached from behind, startling Johnny. Nailbunny has also mysteriously disappeared.
You're on your own on this, Nny.
"W-what was that?" Johnny asked automatically, pretending he didn't hear her. He spun on his heel to face a sleepy looking Devi sitting upright on the couch, distractedly rubbing her eyes.
"Do I have to recite that whole speech over again for you, Nny, or is your skull too thick to absorb information? Nny, I know you still have talent in you. That thing, whatever the hell it was, it did not suck all of your creativity. Look, you were squirting paint onto the fucking palette! AND YOU DID IT OH SO NEATLY TOO!" Devi burst out, bolting up from her seat. Johnny nearly dropped the palette.
"How did you…" He managed to choke out. Devi read his mind and answered quickly.
"I wasn't totally sleeping, and…well…I sorta have a confession to make, a story if you will." She calmed down and sat down again. She lightly patted the spot beside her and Johnny obliged, but not without gently placing the palette on the tarp spread out on the floor first.
"A story? What do you mean?" He asked quietly. He mechanically began fidgeting with his hands. Devi sighed and slumped against the couch. She grabbed the hair ties lying on the coffee table and quickly redid the pigtails.
She knew it was proper to tell Johnny about Sickness.
After all, he was the friend who thought he could fight.
"Some time after our…outing together, I quit my job at the bookstore and began working for this publishing company called Nerve. It was a hell of a workload but it kept me busy, and the pay was good. I spent so much time working, or at least trying to work, that I began neglecting all of the paintings that I used to do for myself, on my own leisure. There was one particular painting that I never finished before my job at Nerve. It was a painting of a doll that sorta looked like me, and I named it Sickness. For some reason, it began talking to me in my own voice." She explained. She paused for a bit when she eyed Johnny's frightened looking expression.
"Something on my face?" Devi asked half jokingly. Johnny shook his head.
"Y-your painting…it was…talking to you…in your own voice?" He whispered faintly, as if he was having difficulty pronouncing his words. Devi nodded slowly and straightened her back a little.
"It was my voice, but more tired, as if I just woke up from a long sleep or whatever. It would speak to me whenever I was alone. It would try anything to get me away from working. It wanted me to relax, to kick back so it can, I dunno, develop or something. I remember it telling me that since I wasn't working on the painting anymore, it would just finish it itself, and it did, oddly enough. It managed to add freaky looking legs and screws for eyes, and it even jumped out of the painting!" Devi cried out. Johnny's eyebrows knitted together at the top in deep contemplation. He rubbed his chin with his thin fingers.
"Sickness also told me that you tried to fight back, but you didn't win. She said that you were the one that introduced her to me." Devi added quietly, so quiet that Johnny could barely hear what she said.
But he heard it, and it nearly stopped his heart.
"So, you were confronted by that supernatural force that forced me into relinquishing my only grip on my sanity. I guess this whole flusher thing isn't just a one person job." Johnny grumbled. Devi raised an eyebrow in reply.
"What the fuck's a flusher?" Devi questioned. Johnny clapped a hand to his forehead. Him and his big mouth.
"Y-you don't wanna know, trust me. It's a long story. Anyways, where's Sickness now? Why aren't you horrendously insane, if that isn't such a harsh question to ask?"
"Well, right after she leaped out of the damn canvas, I threw her, pulled out her eyes, dumped them in a bag, and a plane randomly crashed and destroyed half of the apartment building, killing the psychic fat lady that used to live a floor beneath me (Nny suddenly had second thoughts about him leading the weirdest life). Coincidentally my room was left unscathed. Tenna's too. It took three years for the building to get fixed up, but hey, it's intact now, and that's what matters." Devi said, resting her hands behind her head. Johnny gave her a sad smile and stood up to walk towards the window, which was being pummeled to death by rain. He pulled the drapes apart to stare lamely outside at the dark, storm smeared sky.
So basically, it was his fault for her being so fucked up now.
"I'm so sorry Devi. This situation's just fucked up. It was because of me…that Sickness came to you. If you weren't quick enough to detect her, you would've…you would've ended up like me." His voice died down to a quiet whisper and he fell into his own thoughts. Devi silently stared at his back, lost in the ocean of her own mind.
She woke up too soon.
He woke up at just the right time.
She had enough strength to fight back.
They already had enough strength to overpower him.
She defeated it just in time.
For him, it was already too late.
Is there still time to tighten those loose screws?
Maybe there is still hope for Johnny C.
He just needs someone to help point him in the right direction.
"Johnny, I know how lost you feel right now. It's like you're standing in the middle of a road with other tiny roads pointing out to other directions, and you don't have a map telling you exactly which road to take. Sometimes the things you think you've lost, or losing, aren't really lost at all. There are just so many distractions misleading you that you've lost clarity of that one thing that defines you as a person. Okay, to be honest, once I realized that it was you that basically caused Sickness to start talking to me, I was pissed at you. My hatred towards you overpowered my fear of you, and well it just took over me. I was no longer scared of you. I wanted to fucking kill you." Devi confessed. Johnny whipped around as a response.
"What happened to that hatred?" He asked, hesitantly approaching the couch. Devi let out a small, sort of sad sounding chuckle before speaking.
"Last time I checked, Nny, I'm a human being. Feelings come and go. I'm not the type to hold onto a grudge-a long term grudge, at the very least." She said. Johnny nodded and he stepped closer to the couch.
"You know, during the whole Sickness thing, I learned one thing in life, and that was that I wasn't meant to share my life with anyone. I was meant to be left alone with my work and nothing more. For a couple of years, I lived by that rule. It was weird because the psychic woman's fat told me that, but that doesn't matter at the moment. I lived alone with my work. I went out with Todd and Tenna once in awhile, but that was it. I was finally happy with my life. I felt like I could see the path ahead of me. Everything was fine, until you came. I'm not saying that your presence is a negative vibe or anything, but it sort of…shifted my perspective, you know?" Devi pressed on. She didn't seem to realize that she was pouring out her life story on him, and every spoken word made him feel guiltier and guiltier about taking that first step into the bookstore so many years ago.
"When I saw you again, the whole solitude idea just sorta warped, blurring to obscurity. I felt as if I've been living on the right side of life, but it was something that wasn't meant for me. It's sorta like getting a perfect score on a test, knowing that you cheated on the nerd you sat beside, if you get my poor metaphorical skills. You changed that, Johnny. I don't think I was meant to live through this shit alone. I think I just need someone I can relate to."
Johnny was feeling uncomfortable now. He began fiddling with his hands again. A flash of lightning lit up the room, drawing their eyes to the painting.
It needs to be done.
Maybe there's still hope for him.
Maybe she can help me. Maybe not all is lost. Maybe there's still time.
Maybe I can help.
Both walked wordlessly up to the canvas. Johnny picked up the palette, still wet with paint. Devi was clutching the paintbrushes in her hand so tight that her knuckles were whitening. They both eyed each other for a split second.
For that split second, brown clashed with green. A familiar feeling sparked inside the both of them. It was the same feeling that sparked between them on that night they spent together so many years ago.
It was the night they were trying so desperately to remember.
It will be done.