Meat and Fluids (JTHM Fanfiction) (Nny x Me)

Chapter 19

Picture's for the last half of the chapter.

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(Roy's POV)

He's gone.

Fucking gone.

The buyer is coming TOMORROW, and he's FUCKING GONE!

I don't know how, or when, or even why he left. The light in the room looked like it had gone out, and the door to his cell was hanging by the locks, the hinges pried from the drywall. They were mangled and terrifying. Almost as if an animal had broken it, and not a human.

I'm fucked. I am absolutely fucked.

The front window was broken too. I don't know how one human could possibly break through reinforced glass, but he did.

I am the most fucked I've ever been.

This is how I die. The client is going to put a price over my head because I didn't deliver him his false trophy of a psycho. I could feel the back of my eyes burn at the fact. The tears, pooling above my lashes, ready to spill at any moment because I knew I had no escape from this. No more TIME for this! He was gone, and not only was I FUCKED... I missed him. And I'm afraid I'll never get to see him again, now that he's gone. For a single day of my life, I felt normal. He made me feel NORMAL...

I could always go to his house. See if he's there? I knew where it was, that's how I followed him to the cafe, but I never looked inside the place.

Maybe I'd get to see the wall.

Maybe I was afraid to go inside.

But I wasn't even able to imagine what it may look like, as the front door was knocked on. It was probably Connie, wondering why the window was broke, or even why the bushes outside that window were completely smashed under johnny's weight. The nose thing. Helpful, but she wanted to know things I shouldn't tell her. Couldn't tell her.

But instead of it being the cute nosy neighbor...

It was Johnny.

Johnny, standing in the doorway as I held it open. His eyes were wide and wild and desperate as he looked at me. Almost collapsing to the ground, I was able to grab him, pulling him into the house.

He was covered in blood.

I don't know from who, or where, but I couldn't even ask as he wondered, "Could I use your shower... again?" And so he did. Stick and wet and cold, he crawled into the upstairs tub and let the water blast on cold. He didn't bother closing the door. Didn't even bother taking the clothes off, just let it all rinse off.

I didn't mind much that he was in there a while. I didn't have a water bill, he could waste as much water as he wanted, could be in there as long as he needed to, but... not alone.

After a few minutes, I felt the need to step in. I don't even know how long I had been standing outside the partially opened door before I decided to walk in, but he didn't seem to notice me. Or if he did, he showed no reaction.

Johnny was shivering violently as he sat at the bottom of the tub, letting the water hit at him like freezing rain. Whether he was shivering from the cold, or from what I can only presume was his past actions, I wouldn't know until I asked him. But, for now, I didn't ask him. I just sat on the edge of the tub, reaching for the shampoo as I started picking out pieces from his hair.

Pieces of drying blood, and chunks of skin that were not his own. Thick, unknown clumps of visceral objects I would have to dissect just to find out what tissue it was before I could even TRY to tell which organ it belonged to. His head buried deeper in between his knees, hiding any part of his face he could from me. I didn't blame him.

I would've almost been content with the amount I had gotten out, but I wasn't. There was more. There seemed to just be more and more, stuck to the clothes, stuck to the skin, as if it was pressed into it and let to set there.

I got in the tub behind him, soap loose in my hands before I started to rub it in. Scratching at the scalp. And he flinched away.

"You should know by now, I don't like being touched-" he tried, voice small, yet demanding.

"Well, I'm going to, so knock it off." He flinched again at that, shaking more. I continued to sud up the thick black hair, harder, finally feeling the base of his skull through all the gore. It was coarse and choppy in all the right AND wrong places. An impossible style to pull, yet here he was.

The water was freezing, but the heat radiating off the kid was making it bearable. Not by much, but still. The bottom of the tub was a swirling of reds and browns and blacks being carried by the water, down to the drain. The drain that was slowly being taken over by the chunks, now drained of any color or meaning except garbage.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked suddenly, foam finally rinsing from the mess on his head. And my hands went soft again. Something comforting and soothing, and warm against the cold fabric of his back. "Mad that I left?"

"... Yes." he curled further into himself, arms tightening around his knees and face. "Worried mostly," I spoke again. I pulled his body back against mine with little resistance.

"Sorry," he spoke softly.

"It's okay." But it wasn't. He knew it wasn't, because he was crying. Hot tears pulled down his face as he continued to mumble sorries to me and himself.

And I would have just let him be. Let him cry and mentally figure things out, but I did what I thought I had to. I knew I wanted to know what happened. 

I wanted him to talk about it. Talking forced you to think clearly enough to form words, it helped you think clearly. Makes you HAVE to think about it. So I asked him.

 "What happened?"