Chapter Thirteen


Trigger Warnings For This Chapter: Cursing, Mental Illness Traits, Hallucinations, and Mentions of Violence.


Pinky paced in circles nervously. This was it. This was his chance to vouch for Brain. I can do this. I will do this.

After more self-convincing, Pink took a breath of courage and stopped pacing. "Here we go." He knocked on the door labeled 116.

A guard opened the door, eying Pinky curiously. "Can I help you?"

"My name's Pinky Wigerman. I'm here to do the comedy act." Pinky smiled and offered a handshake.

The guard looked at a clipboard and nodded after a brief scan. "Ah. Yeah. You're on here. Step inside." He held the door open for Pinky.

Pinky walked in, standing awkwardly as he looked around the plain open room. "Excuse me, sir, where do I go?" There were several other doors and halls.

"Nowhere yet. I need to check you for weapons. Arms up, and I'll pat you down. "

Pinky did as asked.

The guard started on his chest and moved his way down to Pinky's pants pockets. After a couple of pats, the guard suddenly stopped. "Sir, I'm going to need you to empty your pockets."

Pinky gulped and reluctantly did as asked. He pulled out his folded paper poster, key, and his knife.

The guard raised an eyebrow and took the items. He set the key and poster down on a counter and examined the knife. "Any reason you have a kitchen knife on you?"

Pinky swept his mind for possible answers before settling on one that sounded realistic. "Well, it's a crazy world out there, sir. Gotta keep myself safe. Zort!" Pinky hoped the explanation would be accepted and was glad he remembered to wash off the weapon before he left.

The guard seemed pleased with the response and set the knife down by Pinky's other items. "Yeah, okay. Well, come back here after the show to have your things returned." He pointed at one of the doors. "Enter that door there and walk down the hall until you see another door with your name on it."

Pinky sighed a breath of relief. He pointed to the poster. "Oh, that's got stuff for my act on it. Can I have that?" He was handed the poster and followed the instructions of the guard. When he found the door with his name on it, he stood there a moment to admire it. "Naarrrrf." It's like I'm famous! He pushed through and was even more fascinated with the inside of the room. A long counter lined with cute stools, a rack of beautiful suits and dresses, and a massive mirror decorated with extra bright light bulbs.

Pinky walked in slowly, taking in the striking scenery. This place is wonderful! Oh, I wish Brain could see it! He sat down on one of the stools and looked at his reflection. He leaned in and hummed. He could touch up his makeup a bit. He looked around and was pleased to see a bunch of makeup shoved in the corner of the counter. He reached over, delicately selecting the items he needed.

Pinky lifted a brush to use first and began powdering his face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brain sat alone in his padded cell, singing a made-up song to help occupy his mind. He stared at the door as he sang. Any minute now, she should be walking in to talk to him. One of the asylum's psychologists. He didn't want to talk to her, but she was preferable to the detectives and other asylum workers.

He finished his song, and before he could start another, the door to his cell opened. He shut his mouth and glared at the woman who walked in. She preferred, not liked.

She sat in the chair she brought in, staying close to the door. Lights from above switched on, and Brain looked up at the guards behind the plexiglass looking down on him. Brain rolled his eyes at them. As if he could do anything. His hands were padded, and his legs were cuffed to chains.

His eyes returned to the woman as she cleared her throat. "Good afternoon, Mr. Brain. How are you?"

Brain scoffed at the ridiculous question she always opened with. "Well, I'm trapped and restrained against my will while the world goes on without me. Take a guess."

The woman ignored the hostility. "I take it, then, not well." She wrote something down. " Mr. Brain, do you mind if I ask you questions pertaining to your crimes?"

Brain shrugged.

The woman sighed at the non-verbal response. "The day you shot Tip, you told police and detectives it was to protect your… friend." She said the last word with uncertainty.

"Yes. That's correct. Would you like a gold star?"

Another unknown was written down. "No one was there with you. How could you be protecting someone that wasn't there?"

Brain moaned. "I've told them already. The mongrel was talking to someone about harming my friend in the future. I wasn't going to let that happen. It's as simple as that."

More writing. "Why didn't you report it to the police and let them handle it?"

"I… probably should have. But, I didn't."

"Do you regret not going to the police instead?"

"Partially."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you regret shooting the man?"

Brain smirked. "Not at all. He got what he deserved."

The woman turned a page in her notebook. She had already filled up two. "I also want to ask about the night at the train station. You also said it was to protect your friend. Was this the same friend?"

Pinky. "Yes. They were right about to slit his throat. So I acted accordingly."

"Accordingly? I see. Two of the bodies were on the train cart, and the third was near the stairs. Did you need to kill all three of them to save your friend?"

God, when's that stupid timer going to go off? "I felt so, yes. If any of them got away, there's still danger."

"What does your friend look like?"

"Why would I tell you that? So you can lock him up in here, too? Absolutely not."

The timer dinged, and the woman stood up and grabbed her chair. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Brain." She left but was visible again when she appeared up top with the guards. A doctor walked past the guards and began discussing things with the psychologist.

Brain watched closely as their mouths moved. Then his hung open. He watched in horror as the woman's mouth clearly spoke the word schizophrenia. She didn't believe him… that there was a friend. She thought it was all in Brain's head.

The doctor she addressed had been holding a clear cup of pills. He looked down into the cup and left instead of coming down to give Brain the medicine.

The lights from above clicked off, and Brain let his mind wander. Why wasn't he coming down to give him his medicine? Brain needed it. They certainly thought so, too, incorrectly suspecting that the lack of them caused him to be trigger happy. He was on his meds for the train station murders. And he didn't feel like he was manic when he shot that bastard at the café.

After a few more minutes, the doctor came in, and Brain sighed a breath of relief. He was going to get his medicine. The doctor approached him with the clear cup of pills and one with water. Brain awkwardly grabbed for the pill cup first with his padded hands. He looked inside, and his eyebrow twitched. "What are these?"

The doctor's voice was rigid and empty. "You're pills. We changed the dosage."

Brain looked into the cup again. No. These were just absolutely different medicines. "These are different medications. I'm not taking them."

The doctor stood unmoving. "You don't get a choice. Either take them yourself, or we will have to make you take them."

Brain growled under his breath. Fuck. He put the edge of the cup against his mouth, gears turning in his mind. He paused and then quickly threw his head back. The cup was empty. He took the water, too, for good measure.

The doctor took a step forward and kneeled down. "Let me check."

Brain opened his mouth wide. Then lifted his tongue.

The doctor nodded his head and walked away.

The moment the door shut, Brain put a hand to his mouth, acting as though he was wiping his face. He pressed down on his upper lip, pushing the pills out from under it and into the opening of his shirt sleeve.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Uh, Pingy Wigerman?" The woman looked up at the pink hair and then at the face paint.

Pinky turned to her, excitement radiating off of him. "Yes?"

She looked left to right, ensuring there wasn't any other person in the room with the same name. "Follow me… uh, they're ready for you. On stage."

Pinky brushed some loose hair strands off his face and dusted his pants. "Lovely! Miss…?"

"Jenny." She held the door for him.

"Beautiful name. You should be proud!" Pinky walked through the door, unable to see the confusion on the woman's face.

She led him to a curtain, and Pinky felt a rush in his veins. This is it! He could hear the live audience and Murphy so closely.

Jenny held out a hand to halt Pinky from going on right then.

While Pinky waited, he looked over at a chair and saw a piece of paper with very familiar faces on it. It was of all the people he helped smile this week. Except two were missing from it. A worker noticed Pinky's staring and whispered to him. "Earlier, he read off all the people victim to the smiley face murders. Eerie, ain't it?"

"Uh, yeah." Pinky was very curious about why two of his smile people weren't included. He knew the police took care of all of them. He'd casually check back at the scenes to see if they found the people, and they had found every single one.

Murphy calmed the audience and sighed into the microphone. "Now, folks, I think we can all agree that it's been horrible as of late. The stabbing at the park, the Endo Train Station murders, the Raisnbread shooting, and of course that horrible smiley-face killer with a disturbing seven victims."

Nine. — Nine.

"Anyways, I felt we could all do with some lightheartedness and laughter tonight. Just to keep us going through these tough times. Everyone, I introduce to you, Pinky Wigerman!"

Jenny waved for Pinky to walk through the curtains.

The moment Pinky pushed through the curtains, he was met with loud applause and lots of lights.They want to blind you.

Murphy waved Pinky over to where there was a seat waiting for him.

Pinky approached and grimaced when Murphy offered a hand. 'A gay maniac!' Pinky awkwardly declined the handshake and sat down. He was there for the publicity, not for a rude person who said yucky things about his lover.

Murphy shrugged and sat at his own desk only a few feet away from Pinky. "Alright, everyone. Settle now. So, Pinky, you're a professional comedian, is that right?"

Pinky sat up straight with pride. He certainly felt he was deserving of such a title. "That's right, Murphy! Troz!"

The audience giggled.

"What's Troz? And, also, what's with the getup?" Murphy asked with genuine curiosity.

"It's just something that slips outta' me. And everyone knows things are funnier if a clown says them! Narf!"

Murphy chuckled, uncertain of how to respond. "Well, alright. So Pinky. What do you have for us tonight?"

Pinky cleared his throat. He started them off with the ambulance joke and earned some good feedback. Then he told the refrigerator one. More good feedback. Then he started with some of his own that he had made up. "Knock-knock!"

The audience replied with, 'Who's there?'

Pinky kept himself from giggling. "Spaghetti."

There was a collective murmur from the crowd while some asked, 'Spaghetti who?'

"Spaghetti all over your head!"

The feedback was… varying. Pinky continued for quite a while, not noticing the steep decline in applause he received.

He was about to tell another one when Murphy cut him off. "What is this? This is horrible. Are you joking me?"

Pinky almost didn't know how to respond to that. "Um, yes? I'm joking everyone. Poit." Pinky looked at him, and then the audience, and realized that people didn't look happy. They seemed rather annoyed. Maybe I should get into the speech…

Before Murphy could ask another question, Pinky stood up and spoke. "I have a confection! I'm not here to give a comedy act! I'm here to vouch for a friend!"

Everything went completely silent. Until Murphy huffed. "Excuse me? What are you going on about?"

Pinky took this to mean he should continue. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the wrinkled, 4-paper poster. He held it up, and everyone gasped.

Murphy leaned forward so he could see what was written. When he saw it, he was at a loss for words. He didn't stop Pinky right then and there, though. He was curious.

"Last week, my bestest friend, Brain, was wrongfully locked away in the mental asylum!" He turned to Murphy and pointed. "And you! You said misleading things about him! And he was your biggest fan, too!" He turned back to the audience. "Those three boys he shot on the train were thugs with snake tattoos! They were gonna kill me, but Brain saved me! A-and he's not crazy! He's a hero! And if he killed Tip, there must have been a good reason! He's the only person in the world that's ever been nice to me! Hero's shouldn't be locked up! Free Brain!"

More silence from the audience before Murphy responded. "How dare you. How dare you slander those young boys." He addressed the audience. "Those were university boys with promising futures!"

Pinky snapped his head towards Murphy. "I'm not salamandering them! That's what you did to Brain! Those boys tried to kill me! They were snake thugs!"

Murphy's face was one of absolute disgust. "Are you really trying to say those boys were part of that snake gang? You're disturbed."

"They were! I was there! I saw their tattoos!" Wouldn't the police have seen them, too?

Murphy slammed a fist. "Wait, what?! Are you saying you were there? Were you in on the shooting?!"

Pinky ignored his statement and gripped the edges of his sign tighter. "Free Brain! Troz! It's not fair that all these mean people get to get away with stuff, but if people like Brain do good things, he's locked up! Or heck, when people like me doing anything at all, I'm pushed aside! The world cares so much about those boys and Tip, but no one would bat an eye if I died!" And he meant it. Pinky felt his heartbeat accelerate. He was speaking freely now, not only what he had planned to say. He also suddenly understood why they didn't mention the other two smiley people. They were his homeless victims. And although he had selected them for being grumpy and rude, it was awful that just because they were poor, they were nothing anyway. They could have been the best people on the planet, and they would've been left out.

"Get this loon off my stage!"

Pinky heard the shuffling of a few people backstage and noticed the murmur of the audience members increase in volume. Run! Before any guards had a chance at coming on to escort him off, Pinky ran for the emergency exit. He heard more shouting but was quick to get away. Once outside, he glanced from left to right, choosing a direction at hectic random. He ran and ran until he was sure he was far away from the building. He leaned against a mailbox to catch his breath. That's… not at all how I thought that would go. Pinky had been confident that everyone would be on board to free Brain. Clown.

He walked along the sidewalk for a while until he noticed a crowd gathered up ahead. Curious, Pinky made his way over. He pushed past a few people and stopped when he realized what they were looking at. There was a glass window of a shop with many TV screens playing the very recent events on the Murphy Show. Pinky frowned at the part where Murphy became upset. Then he became uneasy. Many in the crowd had begun to notice and recognize Pinky as the man on the TV screen. They looked about as happy as the live audience had been.

Pinky shoved out of the crowd and was even more anxious when other people walking along seemed to recognize him. No one looked pleased that he was there. He was quick to leave the area.

Eventually, Pinky was nearing home, wiping off his makeup and angry tears. They just didn't understand! He made it over to the complex but froze before he entered. He backed up and looked up at Brain's apartment window. There were people in Brain's apartment! Oh, that's definitely more than a fly! He was going to march up there to confront whoever was there but squinted at one of the two figures. One of them looked like they were wearing a police hat.

Pinky scanned along the streets by the complex and saw a cruiser parked just down the road. Pinky knew that he wasn't supposed to be living there… and now there were police in there…and after everyone seemed so upset with him…

He ran.

It got pretty dark by the time he made it to the bridge. His cold, lonely, not-warm bridge. "Poit."

Pinky trudged over, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He'd have to make up his failure to Brain by making more smiles tomorrow. Pinky sighed. He was going to have to find another knife. He forgot all about his knife back at the studio. Then he laughed. He forgot the key, too! He wouldn't have even been able to get inside the apartment anyway!

Right before Pinky went under the bridge, he saw something in the corner of his eye. He turned and looked. Across the grass was a man in a clown mask. He looked at Pinky and waved. Pinky froze, uncertain of if he was in danger.

When Pinky noticed that the man wasn't making a move to approach him, he shrugged and waved back before crawling under. His smile's plastic, but a smile's a smile.