That was it. This had to be my final warning sign. As I slowly put down the knife I had threatened my mother with, I realized what I had just done. I had threatened to kill the woman who gave me my own life. I didn't feel any guilt, but I knew that I couldn't make it on my own. Sure, I had caught myself by thinking of the consequences, but I knew that I needed help. My mother knew I needed it too, but this was too much to ignore anything crazy I did, for any longer. She stared at me.
"You'd kill your own mother?"
I don't think I imagined the cracking I recognized as being near tears. My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe it either. I was horrified with myself. I was normally so much more careful to not show my urge to kill around others.
"Beatrix..." my mother tried again. Obviously this was major; she only used my full name when the situation was dire.
My legs gave out. She could hear the sobs, but no one was allowed to see my cry. Ever. I could only imagine how cliché this looked. A girl, about 21, dropped to her knees, bawling, face buried in her small, pale hands.

Ugh. A flashback of that experience was the last thing I needed. Especially as I unsuccessfully tried to sleep. I knew better than to have caffeine before bed- didn't help with the insomnia I suffered, anyway- but I was addicted. That's when I realized I hadn't taken my medication. I rolled my eyes at myself before I got up.

I had to be careful not to wake anyone as I made my way to the bathroom. My mother had gone bungee jumping a few months ago…not smart when you have my family's luck. I clearly couldn't be left alone at a time like this, and had been forced to live with my aunt (my mother was a teen when I was conceived. Nothing like knowing you're a mistake), uncle and 7-year-old cousin, Todd.

I scanned through the medication bottles in my basket. I saw the numerous hand sanitizers and pulled out my disinfectant hand spray, squirting it twice and rubbing my hands together. My hypochondria was the least of my worries, being sociopathic was worse. Paranoia wasn't the best, either. But my insomnia was pretty hard. I finally found the bottle I was looking for.
God, what is that blaring? My mind screamed at me. Oh… I realized something. My earphones, the ones I tended to use at night, were still in my ears. "Let my people go" from The Prince of Egypt was the current song. I paused it. I felt the need for silence at the moment. My eyes scanned the room; and I noticed the window was unlocked. Seriously? I had heard of the murders that went on around here, was my family crazier than I was? I rolled my eyes (again) and locked it quickly.

I tip-toed back to the pull-out couch I was sleeping on that night. I lay down and pulled the covers up to my chin.

Knock, knock…

I sighed. My mind was up to its old tricks again, I guessed. I hallucinated often; mostly when I didn't sleep…so, being an insomniac, it happened a lot. I turned on my iPod. I put it on a volume that most would identify as silent, but it blared in my tiny ears.


OKAY, there was no ignoring THAT one. Shattering glass, that was a new one.
Might as well write that down in the morning. I thought to myself, predicting that this was all my imagination.

Okay, might as well check anyways, what else was there to do? I peered around the dark room for my bag. I saw it almost immediately. I searched through for my mace. I found the hand gun I took with me everywhere. I shrugged and grabbed that too- if there really was something in there, I wasn't taking any chances. Death was my biggest fear, and I definitely wouldn't face it as long as I could resist.

I cracked open the door I had exited from not two minutes ago. Well, let's just say I was taken by surprise. I quietly opened it further, stepping in.

Nny's POV

…Whose medications were these? There had to be at least 6 bottles here! That's when I found what I had been looking for. Yeesh, there was a lot of that too. And now that I thought about it, I hadn't noticed this basket before, either. I looked at one of the prescription bottles.
"Beatrix McDonald" was the name. I hadn't seen this name before…I had seen Squee's mother's meds, but that wasn't her name.
I was distracted by an obnoxious-sounding throat clearing. I looked in the mirror in front of me, to see a small, feminine figure watching me, wide-eyed. I spun to face her.

"Hah!" She screamed, raising an arm to reveal a bottle that read "bear repellent". It sprayed in my eyes, and let's just say that it didn't feel great.
"Oh, wrong bottle" I heard her mumble.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" I demanded, thriving in pain.
"Who are you?" she turned it on me.
"I asked you first." I growled.
"I have legal access to this property, you've broken and entered and, well, let's face the facts. I have a gun." She growled back.
We were both silent for a moment.
"…Who are you?" she asked again, sounding calmer.
"I still asked you first." I looked at her. My eyes still stung, but not nearly as bad as before.
She sighed. "Beatrix. But call me that and I spray you with mace- not as painful, but still hurts quite a bit, trust me. Call me Trix, most do."
"…I suppose this medication belongs to you then?"
"Yes. I am the psychopath who needs all of this. Now please, tell me who the fuck you are before I shoot you in the kneecap." She growled. I would have smirked if I hadn't been wondering if my eyeballs were melting inside my head.
"Johnny. But we'll probably be seeing a lot of each other. Call me Nny." I responded.
"Oh great; I'll be tortured like this again? Oh, what fun that'll be." She rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

This was finally when I got a good look at her. She was, well, short and thin although…I had to admit that she had a larger bust and wider hips than most girls. Her eyes were a dark shade of brown, her irises smaller than most. She had an ivory shade of skin. Her hair was wavy and a medium brown. I would have smirked at her outfit if I hadn't been wondering why she was…here. She wore gray and black plaid Joe-Boxer-style PJ pants that read "MUSKOKA WOODS EXPERIENCE" in white down her left leg, a purple t-shirt that read "Phoenix, Arizona. Valley of the Sun." and a yellow Aeropostale hoodie, with a pair of mismatched fuzzy socks- one blue with purple and white stripes, the other white with a red heel and toes. She had a gun in her right hand, the bear repellent on the ground next to her. I considered taking it, spraying it in her own eyes, shooting her and running with a few bottles of bactine, but, well, Squee probably wouldn't have liked that.

Oh, that reminded me.
"You wouldn't happen to know what happened to the little boy living here, would you?" I asked, now curious about why she was here, hoping this would give me an answer.
"Oh, Todd? He's still here, I'm his older cousin. Wait! How do you…?" she trailed off.
"Long story. I'd better go. I'm so awake…I need to leave." I told her, worried about what I might do otherwise.
"WAIT!" She yelled. I turned.
"…What exactly did you come here for? Just too randomly read my medications? Doubtful" she glared at me.
"Oh right, thank you. Bactine? Some of this blood is actually mine…some people put up a struggle, y'know?"
"Uh, no I don't know. But here, take some." She handed me a large bottle. "I've been meaning to get more anyway." She added. I started to walk out again.
"WAIT!" she snapped again.
"WHAT?" I asked too loudly.
"SHH!" she shushed me. "2 things. 1, you're paying for that window, one way or another. 2, how exactly do you suggest that I explain the busted window to my aunt and uncle? Huh?" she whispered harshly.
"1, yes, I will. 2, no clue. Ask Squee, he explained last time someone made the stupid mistake of locking it. Guess he didn't warn you, huh? Or were you just too stupid to remember?"
"I'll have you know that I'm a near-genius. And who is Squee? Some figure of your imagination? Oh Squee, what do I do?" she snapped. This girl was really starting to enrage me.
"I guess you'd call him…Todd. I'd suggest that you don't lock this window ever again. Maybe next time I won't wake you." I kept my words cool and clipped to avoid screaming them and waking the entire household.
"Well, that'll save me from having to make up a new excuse for the window being broken." She sighed.
Neither of us said another word before I climbed out the window.


What a strange dude… I thought to myself. Well, it takes all kinds, right?

Author's Note:

Yes, that was the end of this chapter. If you were on a DSi or other device that disables text effects (like bold, underlining, italic), I apologize, and suggest that you re-read on a computer before submitting a review on how hard it was to understand.
Now, my next order of business; as I write this A/N, I have no idea what to call this story. I apologize for any crappy name I may have used by the time I've published this first chapter. Also please note that I haven't copied ANYONE, as far as I know. Trix is based (very loosely) off of me. You'll find out later what happened to her father…spoiler alert, it didn't happen to mine. He's alive and well. As is my stepfather, my mother and my stepmother. I am an only child, always have been. Closest thing I have to a sibling is the miscarriage my mother suffered before I was even thought of. Anyways, I'm not as crazy as Trix, but, well, she and Nny have to have SOMETHING in common. Oh! Should this be a Nny x OC or should I end it here? Should it be an innocent (ha…innocent in JTHM, hee-hee) rambling? Is this terrible? I realize Nny probably isn't quite as in-character as he should be, but, well, this is my first time writing for him. Problem? Don't care.

I'm going all over the board here, but the germ phobia is also based off of me…I'm a mild hypochondriac. It's getting worse lately.

Anyways, review please. If it's cruel, I'm sending the not-moose after you. *Evil laugh*