This story was done as something to rid myself of writer's block. I'm thinking about what to do with my IZ story, and in the meantime, I be writing this up. It's my first JtHM fanfiction. I'm hoping to do more JtHM/Squee fanfics.

Anyways, this story is set 14 years into the future from beloved little Squee's POV.

So let us begin, shall we?

I sit here, shuddering. My breath is shaky. Sweat rolls down my face like waterfalls. My eyes are open wide in terror.

I try to tell myself it's over now. I'm back in my room, on my bed, in my house.

I try to forget what just happened.

It's over now, right?

But how do I forget?

I look over on the bedside table.

There are papers scattered on the small table. Most of them unimportant. It's a good thing.

Most of the papers are covered in red. Dark red.

I tell myself that it's just.... Kool-Aid. Strawberry flavored Kool-Aid.

But it doesn't work, for I know what it truly is. After all, the "Kool-Aid" is dripping slowly of the object that lays on top of the papers.

A thick red substance drips off.

Blood.

Fresh blood dripping off the knife that once was in a hand.

My hand.

I don't know why I didn't.

I was just so angry.

Hurt.

Disturbed.

How could I have done such a thing?

Was it worth it?

It was all his fault.

He was the reason I did this.

I would have been perfectly fine.

I would have had a perfect life.

With friends who don't scare me to death.

Who knows, maybe I would have had a girlfriend had I been a normal kid.

But he had to come and ruin it all.

He had to come and teach me all his evil ways.

He had to show me the truth about this world.

And all at the age of six.

He'd been the one person who'd been there for almost my entire life, and the only person who I wish I hadn't had as a friend.

Maybe I should pay him a visit.

Tell him thanks.

For the nightmares.

For the social problems.

For the mental problems.

For the friends that I never had.

For the friends that I will never have.

For ruining my life.

xxx

I pull up in the parking lot.

I walk up to the building.

I look up at the sign.

"St. Amy's House For The Mentally Insane"

I'm amazed.

Not by the fact that he's in an insane asylum, but moreso the fact that he was put in here only a year ago when he should have been in here since before I even knew him.

I walk into the empty lobby.

The only people in the small room is me and the lobbyist.

The lady at the counter is a young blond girl, whose smile seems plastered to her face like a Barbie doll.

To be honest, she looked like she could be one of the residents of the crazy house.

She greets me, "Hello, welcome to St. Amy's House For The Mentally Insane. My name's Barbie, may I help you?"

Woah.

Scary.

"Err... I'd like to visit Mr. Johnny C.," I reply.

She types something into the computer, her large smile still across her face.

She looks back at me and says, "Room 777. Right down that away."

She points to a hallway on the left.

I walk down that way.

After a while, I shoved my hands into my pockets, and my hand seemed to feel somthing.

Gripping it, I realize what it is.

A knife.

Gee, thanks Johnny.

You've got me walking around with a knife in pocket.

I don't even know how it got there.

I seem to be getting closer, as the doors along the right wall get higher.

771...773...775...777.

I open the door.

I look into a blinding white room with padded walls.

No need to describe much more, for there's nothing more I can say about it.

In the corner, though, is a black figure.

He doesn't move.

He doesn't speak.

He doesn't even seem to be breathing.

I close the door carefully behind me.

Kind of stupid really, closing the door.

I mean, here you are in a room with some homicidal lunatic.

But then again, he's not killing here.

He can't even move his arms.

And besides, would he really kill me?

I sigh and say his name.

"Johnny?"

He doesn't move.

He just sits there, knees folded up, arms resting on his knees, his face buried in his arms.

I try again.

"Johnny?"

Still nothing.

What if he's dead?

What if the staff just forgot about him?

Didn't feed him or anything.

What if it was the creepy Barbie girl.

I kinda glance back, checking to make sure she wasn't right there holding a knife or something.

I try one more time to get his attention.

"...Nny?"

Suddenly, his head seems to perk up just a slight bit.

"It... It's me... Squee."

No movement.

Then he slowly lifts his head.

It takes everything inside me not to to jump or gasp.

He looks terrible.

He's unnaturally pale, even for Nny.

His bloodshot eyes are barely open.

His eyelids are baggy, as if he hasn't slept in a year.

Then I realize.

He probably hasn't.

He's also sweaty.

I cautiosly step toward the killer.

I crouch down in front of him.

"Nny?"

He doesn't speak.

He doesn't move.

And then it comes out slow and dazed.

And rather shaky.

"S-squee? I-i-isss it r-realy you?"

I smile.

"Hey, Johnny."

He looks stunned.

"Y-you've ch-ch-changed sssso much sssince the--the l-last t-t-time I sssssaw you."

I look at him.

And I almsot want to cry.

Here he was, sitting alone in this big empty cell.

No company.

No love.

It almost makes me want to scoop him up in a hug or something.

And then I remember what I'm here for.

"...Nny? I want to tell you something."

He just looks at me, a smile on his face.

Mind you, it's that crazy, posessed looking one.

But he's still smiling.

It makes me want to just scoop him up in a big damn hug.

Then I remember what I came here for.

"Go on," he says.

He stretches out his legs, and I get a clear view of him in his straight jacket.

That's just fucking sad.

"Well, first off, I just killed someone."

He tilts his head, the crazed smile still on his face.

"Really? Wh-whom?"

I bite my lip.

"My parents."

"T-tell m-me, Sss-s-squee," he begins. "H-how d-d-did you do it, exactly?"

I shrug. "I took a knife and stabbed them to death."

He laughs for a few moments.

A crazy, manic cackle.

I just sit there and wait for him to finish.

"Th-that'sss my Ssquee!" he exclaims. "L-l-looks like y-y-you're ssstarting to t-take after me."

I glare at the maniac.

The bastard that ruined my life.

He laughs some more.

And then I kill him.

I take the knife out of my pocket and shove it straight through his skull.

He stops laughing right then and there.

I stand up and look down on the fresh corpse.

"Yep," I say. "Looks like I'm starting to take after you."

I smile, and leave the Crazy Shelter.

Straight past the Barbie doll girl.

I walk out of the front door.

Continuing where Nny left off.

The End.

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