Okay guys! This is my very first JTHM fanfic, and my first story ever to post on a website. I'm a bit leery of it yet…I'm not sure if it makes sense, or if I've rewritten it enough times for it to be any good, so please review!

Here's a quick wrap of what's happening:

Nny finally manages to kill himself, and he's kinda regretting it. He shot himself in the head. It's not a dies-instantly wound, so he's bleeding to death. It's slow, and as he's laying there feeling a bit uncomfortable, someone comes in and sees. Joy! What will happen?

WARNING: THIS IS A GLOOMY LITTLE PUDDLE OF ANGST AND MISERY! IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A FLUFFY NNY/SQUEE PIECE, YOU'RE VERY, VERY LOST!

Thank you for choosing my story, and I really hope you enjoy. R&R! 333


Johnny lay on his side in a dark pool of his own blood. His sticklike legs tangled with each other and his arms curled close to his rapidly cooling body. Scrape marks of blood like speedlines in a comic decorated the dirty wooden floor. The gun he'd shot himself with was still laying on the table, smoke wafting from the barrel.

He coughed.

Each breath was pain. Each slowing beat of his heart was pain, and he felt numb in weird places. His neck was numb. His left leg. The toes of his right foot, his back. It spread very, very slowly and he urged it on. His head...he couldn't even describe it. He could feel cold air on the exposed pulpy mess of a brain, feel blood drip. The air chilled it and gave him an unpleasant ice-cream headache effect.

He regretted shooting himself now. He didn't really want to die. Not anymore. He wasn't even sure what had made him so particularly miserable anymore. He realized how little he'd actually thought it out. Now, laying on the floor with a hole in his head, the whole idea of wanting to die sounded harebrained. But how could he blame himself? Johnny hadn't known. Nobody told him. Disgustingly ironic, since he isolated himself completely and his loneliness was one of the major reasons he'd done the deed. He closed his eyes and opened them.

Story of my existance. .

He couldn't help but grin.

Heh. I'm funny.

I lay on the crumb-crusted floorboard of Donnie M.'s car, feeling his sneakered feet on my stomach. Two other boys were with them...I could hear their voices. They'd captured me in the school parking lot. Donnie had pulled a rough brown bag over my head and tightened it until I could barely breath, and the other boys held my wrists and ankles to keep me from fighting. I didn't bother. These guys were all scholarships for the football team. Apparantly I was to be a sacrifice in a rather viscious college hazing ritual.

Way to go, Elise. Way to go. Walk in a dark school parking lot after hours. Smaaaaart.

They wanted to know how tough the new guy was. See if he had the guts to kidnap a stick-thin, defenseless freak. What they were going to do now that I was their prisonor was a mystery until their unintelligent bellowing quieted and they began to make sense.

"Dude! Dude, ready?"

"Toss 'er! Toss 'er! Woooooooo!"

"C'mon!"

"Just throw the freak out!"

"Slow down, Donnie! What if we kill her?" came a strained voice, wavering a little. I was satisfied to know he felt uncomfortable. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to savor it long before I was lifted onto the seat and Donnie stuck my legs out of the car, starting the job for the new guy. The wind roared like I was in a hurricane. How fast were they going? It felt like a thousand miles per hour. The car swerved to the side and over a curb.

"Ready? Do it and I guarantee you full membership in Pi Delta Kappa. Just throw her out."

"I don't know...is she going to be okay?"

"Who cares? She's just a freak. Just shove her and lets go before someone sees!"

"Um..."

"Don't be a fag! She'll just be a little lost. It'll be funny. C'mon! Do you want to join the toughest college fraternity around or not?"

"Ok."

"WHOOOO! YEAH, NEW KID!"

Someone, (I assumed the new kid) pushed me the rest of the way out of the window. I hit the ground like a wet rug and lay there, panting. I felt like I'd been hit by a train. Luckily, they'd slowed down a bit and I'd landed in grass. They pulled over a few yards down the road and clapped. The new guy had just showed how tough he was by picking on a defenseless freak. How manly.

After a few minutes of hooting and congratulations, I heard doors slamming and they screeched away. I lay there for a few seconds, wondering if my spine had exploded. I wiggled my toes. They worked.

I sat up.

The bag around my head had been loosened in the fall, and I tore it off in a frenzy. My eyes bulged as I gulped deep, needy breaths of fresh air. In my aching, rattled head, I vowed to get revenge those damned ass-faced jock-straps. I didn't have time for immature college rituals like kidnapping roomates and throwing them out of cars.

And why the hell did they have to pick me?

I tossed the brown burlap sack on the ground and kicked it, groaning. I didn't know where I was or how I'd gotten there.

I blew hair out of my eyes and glared. This place was definitely not the right side of the tracks. The cracked, gum-spattered pavement looked as the government had forgottened they built it, and the houses that it connected weren't in much better shape. They were tiny and dumpy. The kind that puts out pink flamingos because they actually think they might help. And they actually do.

I stood there, feeling the cold night air and relishing my freedom. There wasn't a sound. Not a car running, or a dog barking, or a radio. There were no lights on in the dumpy bungalos.

Weird.

I looked at my cracked digital watch and groaned. It was past three in the morning. How long had those idiots driven around with me in the trunk? Four hours? Five? Sick bastards. I considered reporting them to the headmaster. He'd get their asses straight.

I jammed my hands in my pockets. My mom was probably having a baby camel right now. She always called me around midnight to tell me to go to bed. She'd be reporting a murder to the police right around now.

I needed to call her and tell her I'm alive. They'd stolen my cellphone, so I'd have to borrow someone else's. My legs were shaking but I forced myself to walk.

If I could just get out of suburbia I'd be okay. I could hail a cab or call my Mom to come get me. Calling Mom sounded better...college students aren't known to keep much extra cash on them, and I was no exception. There wasn't anything much in this neighborhood. It gave me the creeps. There wasn't a streetlamp in sight...

And then I saw it. A bare home with no grass in the lawn and a flat roof. It looked like a bunker or a tomb...but I couldn't decide which, because most of the windows were nailed over with boards and the walls were of concrete. Smooth and white, like an eggshell.
The only window that wasn't boarded glowed with a dim light, and a TV running in front of a green couch. It looked to me like someone was enjoying a late-night talk show. My heart soared with hope. Perhaps they would let me use their phone.

I sprinted down the sidewalk to the door and knocked lightly. The door swung open, and I thought I heard a voice.

Of course. They just invited me in. How trusting. My brain was feverishly trying to justify barging into a strangers house at 3:00 AM, and I plunged inside.
It didn't smell nice. There was a sort of sickly metallic odour that permeated everything. You know, like tooth blood, or pennies. The walls were stained and heavily damaged...there were holes with insulation falling out..weird paintings hanging upside down. Knives and swords stuck out of the door. I barely noticed.

I hurried into the next room where the TV was running. There was a half-eaten cup of spaghettios and a Brain-Freezy sitting next to a narrow dent on the couch, like someone had just gotten up. I touched the cup and it was still warm. The TV rattled on about the growing hostility in the Middle East and I looked around for some clue where my benefactor had gone. Were they going to bring the cordless phone to me? That was so thoughtful. So kind. I'd save them the trouble of having to carry such a heavy burden all the way back to me, and go find them.
So I walked wandered through a series of barren and suspicious looking rooms, calling for the owner of this uncomfortable bunker. Nobody answered.

Johnny lay still, listening to the girl walking through his house. How strange. He certainly was popular now. Perhaps it was because he'd refrained from attacking anyone for an entire week. It could be karma. He hissed out a sigh through his clenched teeth, feeling blood fleck the back of his inscisors. The blood he lay in was growing lukewarm, chilling him, and his frail body shivered in attempt to keep warm in his last moments. He felt as if he'd been staring at the table leg for years. He was so tired. Everything was so slow. How long had he lain there? Four minutes? Three? An hour?

How long does it take to bleed to death?

The footsteps of the girl stopped outside his door. He shut his eyes and she turned the nob and stepped inside.

I stepped into the last room and was hit by a wave of the metallic toothy smell. It was nauseating and heavy, like the scent of a butchers locker. The room was totally dark except for a square patch in the center, lit by moonlight from the window. I wasn't wearing my glasses, but I thought I saw a dark form in its center. I stepped forward and squinted, curious.
Sometimes, I wish I hadn't.

A young man lay sprawled in a lake of blood, his long legs tangled and his arms curled to his chest. There was a gun laying on the table above him, and a smashed telephone. I didn't know whether to run away or see if he was still alive. He looked dead to me; gruesomely dead. The back of his head was partly blown away, and wet grey pulp mixed with gore oozed from the cavity. Blood was everywhere. It was sprayed on the wall, streaked on the floor, spattered and pooled around his head and chest...It was even leaking from the corner of his pinched mouth and welling in the corners of his bulging eyes. They both were filled up with the disgusting stuff. I squeaked with alarm and grossed-outness. I really needed to go. Now. I did NOT need any more crazy shit, and I had just walked in on something I shouldn't have.

Just as I turned to go, he let out a hissing sigh.

"D-do you know...how long it takes...to bleed to death?" he whispered, blinking his eyes and staring at me. Blood ran from those eyes like tears. My heart skipped three beats as I stared back at him, feeling horror rise in my throat. How could anyone possibly be alive with a wound like that?
But, though I may be a coward and a freak, I would never leave someone alone like that.

"What happened? Are you in pain?" I asked, crouching next to him just on the edge of the bloody puddle.

He took in a shallow breath.

"I did this to end the pain...to...find something...meaningful. They lied. They told me it would stop...but this is...worse."

He rolled over onto his back. I couldn't help but notice how long and thin he was, like a Tim Burton drawing. He was wearing all black, with knee-high boots and silver buckles.

"I'm going to call the hospital, okay? Do you have another phone?" I asked, speaking a little too loudly. My heart felt like a giant fist was squeezing it out. My head felt light. All the blood was making me ill.

He blinked again and his eyes oozed. I wondered if they hurt.

"...no. Don't call. It's just a waste. They...won't come in time. Oh shit, I don't want to die anymore. This isn't what it's supposed to be..."

Our eyes met. They were the most intense, emptiest things I'd ever seen. They made me feel as if...as if there was nothing left in the world but me. All alone...like he was. I could tell with just one look. It was overwhelming, and I started to cry. This was the weirdest, most horrible night ever. I felt helpless. The young man reached out and touched my arm.

"Don't cry. I don't want anyone to be unhappy right now...I'm so fucking sick of unhappy people..." His eyes weren't focusing correctly. My eyes swam too, with hot, salty tears.

"Okay. I won't. What's your name?"

"Johnny. But since we seem to be having such an...intimate moment, you may call me Nny." he said, a tiny, pained smile on his thin lips. I just had to smile a little too. He seemed so gentle. I couldn't believe how much I cared for this person, even though I didn't know him. This sweet little goth kid...I loved him. Maybe being lonely all the time made you a little desperate or easy. I didn't really let this stop me, though.

"Nny, my name is Elise...is there anything I can do to help?"

"No."

It was obvious. He was exhausted and losing strength fast. I wondered how long he'd lain there before I came. The amount of gore everywhere was incredible. It looked like someone had just emptied a bottle of ketchup of the ground and then played in it.

He coughed a little and then shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"Yes..."

I took one of his icy cold hands and held it in my own, willing my body heat into it. He felt like carved marble. You know how skinny and weirdly cold marble statues are, right? Like, it could be 105 degrees in the shade, and the humidity 80...and if you touched it, that statue would feel cool? He felt just like that.

He bit his lip.

"I...don't like being touched. Didn't, I mean. I really thought it was disgusting-"

I dropped his hand, embarassed and not really understanding. He shook his head and put his hands back in mine.

"No! Keep doing that. It feels so good. I was just telling you how wrong I was, you see...It feels like water, after not drinking for days." he whispered, resting his head on its side and facing me. Tears ran down my cheeks again, but he didn't ask for me to stop. I knew it was making him feel worse, but I couldn't stop.

Time seemed to be standing still.

How long, indeed, does it take to bleed to death?

I felt his pulse. It was slowing now. I guessed that meant he was dying. Fast. I leaned over him, my knees soaking in the puddle of blood. He shut his eyes. His face was drawn and very, very pale. Blood was dried around his mouth, fresh just on the inside of his lips. He took in a shuddering breath, his chest rising. I leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"I love you, Nny. I don't know you very well but I love you. You're a good person. I can tell. I'm sorry you hurt yourself so badly, and I'm sorry for whoever who told you to do it. You're going to heaven."

I kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smiled and tears ran down his cheeks, washing the blood from his eyes. I felt my heart swelling, like a balloon full of helium and rocks. I was so happy to be with him I could float...but he was almost gone.

"I love you too. I think...this...is the happiest moment...of my life." he breathed. And then, he died.