CHAPTER FIVE: THE SAME OLD ROOM

Johnny ran home, his face stinging with cuts and his eyes stinging with angry tears. Before he went inside he forcibly wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Stop! You saw this coming, she hates you." He berated himself.

He opened the door, and the familiar smell of dust and decay greeted him, along with a voice.

"Ah, you've come back home." Reverend Meat said. "You really shouldn't have thrown you knives at me. You have SUCH a nasty temper."

"Shut up." Said Johnny, going into the bathroom to dab at his bleeding forehead and face. The cool water felt good to his wounds.

"There it is again. Tsk, tsk. Now, what happened to your face? It MUST be a good story." Meat persisted.

"Why should I tell you?" Johnny said, coming out of the bathroom and collapsing onto the couch. He didn't bother to get his knives; he didn't want to use them ever again. Not since they had made Devi despise him.

"You got attacked," Continued Meant, "Weren't paying attention, now, were you? And Devi still despises you. Why don't you give up on that girl? It's a lost hope, you should know that."

"I told you to SHUT the

up." Said Johnny coolly as he stood and walked toward Meat.

"What are you going to do, Nny? You can't get rid of me. I'm in your mind!" Reverend Meat taunted.

Johnny grabbed him and threw him in the basement.

"No." Johnny said. "I CAN'T get rid of you. But I CAN shut you up." With that, he again lay on the couch.

Why had Devi been so mad at him, after she had JUST saved him? Was it an impulse to save him, perhaps, and hatred arising as memories flooded back? Did she like him, or despise him? The latter of the two, obviously. A voice in Johnny's head said:

"But what about the painting?"

She was probably going to destroy it to destroy memories of him.

"Then why did she save you?"

Because she wanted to hurt him herself? Because she cared? Or was it that she just wanted to stop the commotion?

His head spinning and thoughts whirring furiously in his brain, Johnny went to his car. He needed to go to the hill, to think. And, probably, to cry out this pain a little more.

A/N: Poor Nny. NOTE! AFTER THIS IS FINISHED I AM DISCONTINUING MY ACCOUNT!