Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue,
Thought I heard you talking softly.
I turned on the lights, the TV and the radio
Still I can't escape the ghost of you.

What is happening to it all?
Crazy some say-
Where is the life that I recognise?
Gone away.

But I won't cry for yesterday.
There's an ordinary world somehow I have to find.
And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world
I will learn to survive.

Passion or coincidence once prompted you to say-
Pride will tear us both apart.
Well now pride's gone out the window, cross the rooftops, runaway.
Left me in the vacuum of my heart.

What is happening to me?
Crazy some say.
Where is my friend when I need you most?
Gone away.

But I won't cry for yesterday.
There's an ordinary world somehow I have to find.
And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world
I will learn to survive.

Papers in the roadside tell of suffering and greed,
Feared today; forgot tomorrow.
Here beside the news of holy war and holy need,
Ours is just a little sorrowed talk-
Blown away.

Just blowing away.

And I won't cry for yesterday.
There's an ordinary world somehow I have to find.
And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world
I will learn to survive.

Any world is my world
Every world is my world

"Ordinary World"- Duran Duran

Chapter One

"Excited, Mr. C?"


Or so he should have been. He had just been released from a mental hospital after three years of therapy. Three years of x-rays and medication; three years of being poked and prodded day in and day out. So why wasn't he as happy as he should have been?

"Here's your coat, Mr. C. And don't forget your medication. It's on the counter."

Of course.

Two years and ten months before, a 25 year old man with bloodshot eyes waited outside a coffee shop, alone. He didn't know who he was waiting for; he only knew that they had left a letter taped to his door.


And suddenly he saw the beautiful green eyes and purple pigtails.

"Devi? You actually wanted to talk to me?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, Nny. You need help, and it seems like I'm the only person who can get it to you. What's been happening to you - the same thing almost happened to me. But I fought it, Nny. I beat it. You - you're just not strong enough to beat it by yourself. You let it take too much of you."

It should have registered in his mind what she meant to do, but he was too busy staring at her, trying to freeze an image of her in his head. She didn't want him back as he wanted her back, but it was exhilarating in itself that she was speaking to him.

"Are you listening to me, Nny? You need help! You may disagree, but you do. Just make this easy and go willingly."

He said the words, "You called the asylum on me?", but he didn?t truly understand them. His long fingers were creeping towards the knife concealed inside his trench coat.

She had escaped him once. Not again.

She was still talking, but he didn't understand the words.

"Nny? Are you listening to me?" Devi's eyebrows knitted together with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll be fine, so long as you don't leave again."


"So long as I can have you with me always..."

The silver blade gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting in Devi's eyes.

But she would still never be with him always. Before he could claim her life, he suddenly found himself surrounded by men in white coats. They were everywhere, grabbing his arms, his legs, and his sword. And before he knew it, he was put in handcuffs and pulled into the back of a large truck.

Devi didn't watch as it sped away.

Johnny sighed, the guard leading him to his doctor's car. The doctor was waiting for him inside of it, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the sound of imaginary music. Johnny climbed into the back seat behind him, and the doctor proceeded to pull out of the parking lot.

"What's this I hear about moving me to the suburbs?"

The doctor glanced at Johnny through the rear-view mirror and cleared his throat. "Well, it's just that I don't think city life is very good for you. Moving to the suburbs might be a big help. If not, well, I'll consider moving you back to the city. Until then -"He handed Johnny a piece of paper. "This is where you?ll be living."

"You're sending me to Foster? Rhode Island? What's there to do in Rhode Island?"

"It's a small place, and Foster's very quiet. I think you'll like it."

In a way, it did sound appealing. Silence was what he had always wished for, after all, from the voices in his head and the sniveling imbeciles he kept in his basement that made so much noise. But now he was moving to the suburbs, knowing those people were still out there.

Surprisingly he felt no urge to kill. And he was absolutely alone in his head. When he was taken to the hospital his house was looked through, and both Nailbunny's head and Reverend Meat were confiscated and destroyed. Nothing had spoken to him since.

He now believed that they had never spoken to him at all, rather than controlled by a higher being. Johnny C. now thought of himself as simply schizophrenic. He had believed that from the start, of course, but he didn't believe that was all there was to it.

That was before the doctors and the medication.

Now he had pills for his schizophrenia, which helped greatly.

But there was that one time with the stuffed pig toy from the children's ward...but he knew now for sure that it was all in his head. And that alone comforted him.

The doctor dropped him off at the airport and gave him his ticket. On the plane he was stuck next to a young teen with a crying baby who couldn't be quieted in the least.

It was not a good flight.

Three years ago, the brat would have been slaughtered within the first ten minutes. That was over now. All Johnny could do was look out the window and try to ignore it.

The first thing he noticed about Rhode Island was that there weren't any taxis. Johnny waited on the corner for almost ten minutes until one came. A teenage boy tried to jump in front of him, but Johnny would have none of that. He had lost his homicidal tendencies, yes, but his temper was far from gone. Ignoring his first impulse to shove the boy into the street, he instead pushed him aside easily.

"Bastard," he muttered.

The driver helped Johnny with his bags, and Johnny gave the driver the address to his new house.


The house wasn't exactly satisfactory. It was sickeningly clean and tidy, like the mental hospital, except a lot smaller. On the first floor there was a living room, kitchen, and bathroom. His bedroom was upstairs. It was a good size, and the mattress was soft, which he was thankful for- sometime in the past three years he had actually begun sleeping after all.

The basement he didn't care for at all. It was extremely hard to see, and it was a small area with just a simple washer and dryer. No torture devices, no endless levels of darkness underground.

"So very not like home."

But it would have to do. So, going back upstairs and flopping onto his bed, Johnny made up for the sleep he missed on the plane.


Johnny snapped awake suddenly, hearing the eerie voice calling to him. It seemed to be coming from downstairs, calling to him softly, "Johnny..."

He cautiously made his way down the stairs, and was almost to the bottom when a woman shrieked, "NO, JOHNNY, NO!"

"What the fuck?"

Johnny dropped his guard and peered into the living room. The screaming was coming from the TV.

"Oh, Jesus Christ."