#creepling.1k

"Well, what's the best movie you've seen so far?" You ask, leaning back on the fence, your blinded eyes adjusting to Johnny's face.

He thought for a good while, sucking his cheeks and staring into space. "A Clockwork Orange," He blankly answered, returning to smoking his cigarette.

Your eyebrows knit in inquisitiveness. You have heard of it; it came out a few years ago. But everyone you know who saw it said it was disturbing, so you did not go and see it. "Isn't that the British one with a lot of violence in it?"

Johnny shrugged, "It wasn't that bad,"

You scoff out a laugh. "Trust the bad boy to like a movie with a lot of violence in it," You tease, earning a glare from him.

"You asked me my favourite movie, and I told you. Now you wanna get at me for it?" Johnny's defensiveness took you aback, causing you to laugh nervously.

"I'm only joking, Johnny. Damn, calm down." You say, but Johnny was already storming back inside the house. You took that as your message to leave and sulk back to your car.

In the week you were away from the Slaughter yard, you took the time to go to a midnight screening of A Clockwork Orange, thinking you owed Johnny some gratitude for teasing him. Once you left the cinema, you were amazed. Sure, it was violent, very violent. At times, you shielded your eyes from the screen. But for Johnny to like it, it was surprisingly visualistic. It was grotesquely beautiful.

The next day, you visited Johnny, approaching the porch like a dog with its tail between its legs. You were curious to know if Johnny was mad at you as he gave you a blank stare like he always does. In the same position, smoking a cigarette, you walk up to him and stand by his side.

"I saw that movie you like the other day," You begin, looking for his reaction.

He glances at you, keeping to himself. You lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your head.

"It was terrific," You confess. Johnny's shoulders shifted as he chuckled. "What?"

"Trust you to tease me for liking a movie and end up likin' it yerself," He said amusingly, leaving a peck on your arm. At his return to affection, you smiled and hugged him tighter.

"I kinda wanna see it again. Maybe we should go together?" You suggest.

Johnny’s knife dropped to the floor, and he thought about every bad thing he had done. There was no coming back from this.

It had been a month of silence. A month of sleepless nights and looking over your shoulder. Breastfeeding became agonising. Your baby’s cries sent you into uncontrollable alertness. Your hair was brittle and your skin shallow, the stress shivering through your body like a ghost entering your soul.

The letters came around that time. Off-white envelopes with a few dollars in cash. All that was left was a note,

For the Baby, I’m sorry.

Meeting him again after the kidnapping was an anxiety-driven step, bouncing your baby on your lap as you waited in the diner booth. You convinced yourself you lost your mind, wanting to rekindle with your kidnapper. But you hadn’t heard from anyone since the birth; the baby daddy became non-existent. Your family refuse to return your calls. The only person willing to help you was Johnny.

He was silent across from you for a while. The only words he uttered were to order from the menu. He shovelled down an apple pie while you bottle-fed your child, lulling them to their afternoon nap.

“Why are you helping me?” You remember asking. Visioning Johnny’s deep gaze, his subtle glances at your first-born, a tinge of sadness glazing his eyes.

He said he owed you too much. Your baby deserved to grow up with a male figure in its life, and you deserved someone to protect you. The sight of your youthful features withering away from stress, the permanent damage he inflicted on you, ached your eyes and down-turned your smile. It kept him up at night thinking about you, struggling with the fussing cries and flashes of his brute force. He wanted to step up. He was ready for redemption.

He drove you back home, watching over his new companions with careful eyes. His arm outstretched as he turned the wheel, hoping not to disturb the baby’s slumber. The rascal woke up eventually, full of energy the minute you invited him inside. “Would you like to hold them?” You asked, unable to ignore his loving stares.

He felt like crying, holding something so precious. Knowing he nearly orphaned this child, ridding it of a beautiful mother. He swore to protect the kid, holding its gentle head and leaning it into his chest. His gentleness surprised you, the warmth filling your smile for the first time in months.

Johnny never left the house. He hadn’t seen his family in months and had no plans on returning. Your little one was proliferating, and Johnny got used to using his strength to pry the ankle biter from dangerous objects. He ditched the knives and retired into swinging the kid until they were out of breath from laughter. He stepped up, got a job, and brought money in to keep you secure.

He was a different man, and he changed you as a mother. He repented for his sins. He begged for forgiveness with every stare your way, with every gentle touch. You finally forgave him, praying that his presence is destined to be everlasting.

“Will you stay?” He held you in his arms as you choked up, clinging to his body. 

“Honey, please, just sit down. There is no one here except me,” Johnny soothes, his voice thick with misunderstanding. It is the first time he has seen you like this.

“No, no, I'm not going back, I’m not going back,” Your words were gibberish to him.

“What ‘you mean? Please, darlin’, just talk to me,” Johnny choked on the lump in his throat, wishing he could embrace you, soothe your nerves and have his touch cure your anxiety. He hated seeing you like this. He didn’t understand it.

“You’re gonna leave me, just like everyone else!” You finally snapped, perceiving Johnny in the room with you. “Everyone leaves me. I’m so alone . . . so alone.”

“How could ya think sucha thing? You’re ma angel. You’re stuck with me, darlin’,” Johnny chuckled, defusing the stress. He slowly reached his hand towards you, noticing the change in your look morphing into softness – brokenness.

“You can’t leave me. You can’t. I won’t let you,” You say, almost possessively, but the sob stuck in your vocal cords still encumbered you. Your cheeks flushed and tear-stained. Johnny began wiping your tears with his calloused fingers, being as gentle as possible.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetpea. C’mer,” He slowly hugged you, relieved to feel you mould into his shape. Tucking your face between his neck and shoulder, letting his warmth soothe your sorrow. As you sighed, Johnny sensed your exhaustion. He still had to learn a lot about you, but he was willing to explore his newfound sympathy if it meant keeping you near. He’d do anything for you.

“I'm sorry." You choked, “I- I ain’t normally like this it’s,”

Johnny didn’t need to hear excuses. Anything that gets you this worked up is enough to convince him it’s bad. And he will raise hell to get back at whoever hurt you. No one hurts his lover. 

Your head pounding, you finally adjust to your surroundings, making out the person in front of you. Hair slicked back, eyes stern, absent of that smirk that makes your blood boil. He looked concerned, but it wasn’t enough to soothe your anger.

“You-” Lurching forward, you wince at the drip needle yanking at your skin. Johnny lays you back down, trying his best to calm you down.

“Now’s not the time for fighting,” He says, studying your dry lips and sullen eyes. His carelessness brought you here, the image of your spilt blood burning a hole in his mind. It was the first time he ever felt guilty.

“Get the fuck away from me,” You spat, “You’re the reason I’m fucking here. Once I get out, you’re fucking dead meat!”

“I can explain-” Johnny begins, but you’re quick with your tongue.

“After all these years of hating me and me standing up to your bullshit, and this is what I get? You try to kill me? Fucking piece of shit. It’s about time I slit your throat,”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Johnny barked, trying to keep quiet. “Look- you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I thought you were . . . one of the kids escaping. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I had to get them before they-”

Johnny stopped talking once he saw your stare, that loathing stare he hated to see. You were conflicted by the way he stared at you. He looked hurt, possibly guilty – but it wasn’t enough to convince you. You knew him inside out for the narcissist that he is. If only you knew his suppressed feelings for you, how highly he thinks of you. You are the last person he wants dead in this world, even if it is a means to an end. He made matters worse, concealing it by being mean to you. If he were honest, you wouldn’t be in this mess.

Joel’s job was to deliver you back to the QZ after you stole supplies and ran for it. Hell knows why they wanted you back alive. Joel would have shot you on the spot, but he figured you’d have a more agonising punishment when he returned you. And the bounty was a pretty penny for a job so simple. He’d be stupid to turn it down.

“You call that luxury? Dude, we’re gonna get bed bugs either way,” You scoff, cocking your head towards the dusty bed.

“Fine, you sleep in the fucking bed. If I catch you off it, you’re dead,” This guy was so mean, so threatening. You laughed him off, hopping onto the bed and finding a comfy spot in your bounds.

“Why you gotta hate me so much?” You sighed, “If you knew why I stole them, I think you’d think twice about shooting me.”

Joel gritted his teeth, not appreciating you playing with his emotions. He sat up on the bed, finger hovering over the trigger. “It doesn’t matter. You know people are starving in there, and you went ahead and made it harder for everyone.”

“And you should also know the QZ denies resources to needy people. I’m not dumb, you work for those asshole guards. Don’t you notice them getting fatter – eating all the food? Gimmie a fucking break,” You bite back.

Joel looked at you, reading the genuine annoyance on your face. Maybe you were as noble as you sound. And perhaps you were talking sense, and Joel agreed with you. Or maybe you were a firefly or another vigilante on the rise. Complying with you meant he was putting his life at risk.

“So fucking honourable,” Joel mumbled, “I’d get some rest. We’ll arrive by noon, and they’ll want you all perked up before they have it with you.”

You ignored his words, eying his body next to yours, a smirk arriving on your sly face. “You’re not sleeping in the bed, too, are you?”

Joel pressed his gun firmer against your back. “I said get some rest.”

You couldn’t hold in your laughter. This guy was ridiculous. “Sharing a bed and you haven’t even bought me dinner first, isn’t that just scandalous?”

He fought the urge to beat the shit out of you. He turned away, holding the gun against his chest. He cursed himself from the blush creeping up his neck.

“I don’t have to worry, do I? You’re not like a perv or anything?” You said half-jokingly.

“No, I’m not,” Joel began to get irritated, wishing you’d drop it and sleep.