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Sublime Awakenings	By : Kailean Category: Comics > Squee! Views: 1478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Squee!, JTHM, or Invader Zim, nor any of the characters from these works. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Sublime Awakenings: Chapter 3

The drive home was unusually quiet. Todd pretended to be interested in the passing houses to avoid meeting Brian's gaze. He was feeling a host of negative emotions pooling in the pit of his stomach, weighing it down. He was embarrassed for himself, guilty for embarrassing Brian, angry that the Church allowed the situation to carry on as it did and worst of all afraid that his behavior might warrant reconsideration of his release from the Defective Head Meat Institution. He knew that his “parents” would be more than willing to get ride of him for two more years, until he was no longer their responsibility at all, if given the option. He had just throughly embarrassed, and probably disappointed, the one person who stood in between his relative freedom and horrible confinement. And then there was Johnny. He didn't want to think about what gruesome fate would befall Brian if he made the call to send him back there.

Of course, Brain wouldn't be as petty as to do such a thing out of anger. He was much too good a counselor and person for that, and he was quite fond of Todd. No, the real danger actually lay in his affection for the boy. He had surely interpreted Todd's odd behavior as a psychotic episode, signaling that he was unable to cope with the social pressures of the real world.

The sleek gray car came to an abrupt stop in front of the Castil house.

“Todd.” Brian sighed. “I'm not mad at you. I'm sure that was a very stressful situation for you. Even though you shouldn't have been doing math during Mass, I shouldn't have let them interrogate you. I'm sorry.”

Todd finally looked away from the window, turning toward the silhouette of his counselor. “ It's okay. I'm sorry too.” He really didn't know what else to say. How could he defend what he had done? It wasn't really a matter of fault, but more a matter of sanity.

“Do you... want to talk about why you thought they were zombies?”

“It..it reminded me of one of the incidents from my childhood. You remember the one that I told you about, when the skool turned the kids into zombies, and they all tried to kill me?” Yeah, that sounded like a good defense for his sanity.

“Umm, yeah. And your friend ,Pepito, the, umm, Antichrist, saved you by blowing the other kids up?” Brian said this slowly, clearly trying to suppress underlying worry.

“Yeah...that. Listen, I'm not saying that it really happened. I'm just saying that whether it was a dream, or some sort of distorted memory or whatever, it came back to me tonight because the situation seemed very similar to me. It wasn't like I was hallucinating or anything. I just let the old fear get away from me.”

“You're sure? You didn't see anything strange? Did you have flash-backs?”

“No. It was like remembering a bad dream. A really bad dream. I didn't really see it imposed on my surroundings. I just overreacted.” That was more or less the truth. Okay, defiantly less, but he really didn't want to be locked up again.

“Okay. I believe you, Todd, but this is very important. I need you to tell me if you do start seeing things like you used to, okay? We may need to adjust your meds.”

“Alright. I'll let you know if anything overly weird happens.” He forced a small smile.

“Good.” Sensing his nervousness, the older man reached out and ruffled the youth's dark brown locks. Todd let out a deep breath, and the tension that seemed to be lingering in the air dissipated. “Have a good night, Todd. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Night, Brian.” Todd's door opened as he stood. He heard it close behind him as he began the short walk up his driveway.

“Todd! Hold up.”

When the boy turned around to see the passenger window rolled down and the inside light on he walked swiftly back to the vehicle.

“I forgot to give you this.” Brian hoisted up a cardboard box and stuffed it half way out the window for the teen to take.

“What is it?” Todd asked, as he took the light weight box.

“Just some of your old stuff from over the years at the D.H.M.I. We aren't allowed to throw anything away without your permission so it all kind of accumulates. I just thought that you might want to keep some of it. When you get a chance, go through it. If there is anything left over that is still in decent condition that you don't want bring it Sunday. I'll donate it to charity with some of my stuff.”

“Okay. Thanks, Brian. See ya Sunday.” He gave another small smile before heading to his house, but this time it was real. Things were back to normal already.

Tucking the box under one arm, he used the other to retrieve the house key that he had stolen from his mother earlier that week from his dress pants. He entered the house as quietly as possible, noting the dark interior. The glow of the TV was the only illumination as he crept through the living room, where his “father” appeared to be passed out in a mildly tattered tan recliner. As his right foot fell softly upon the first step of the staircase, it emitted a slow, but determined creek.

His “father” stirred. “Huh? Hey! Dependent! What are you doing back already?! I thought I was free of you for the night! Why can't you ever just leave me alone?!” yelled the man on the recliner.

“You mean like for the last eight years,” Squee muttered to himself in low exasperation.

“What did you say to me, brat?!”

“I said,” he raised his voice and added a sarcastic layer of frosted sugarie sweetness, “goodnight, Daddy.” Nothing bugged his 'dear old dad' like having the fact 'lovingly' rubbed in his face. With that, Squee hurried up the stairs and into his room before any more arguing could ensue.

Once inside the small refuge of his childhood, he leaned against the door and surveyed the changes. Upon his release he had, begrudgingly, returned to find that what had once been his room had been converted into a dusty storage closet. Of course, none of his things had been stored there. Everything that hadn't been taken to the D.H.M.I. had been discarded like the dead bodies of plague victims, only in faster order. The only reminisce of his old room had been the smiley-face wall paper, which he had promptly painted over.

Brian had bought him new furniture, for which Squee intended to pay him back, and Letta had helped him redecorate. The wall was now a dark green. The furnishings were simple, consisting of a bed, a desk, a book self, a dresser and a night stand, all made of stained pine. It wasn't terribly expensive or incredibly nice, but it was still the best Squee had ever had. Even though the majority of his reading had been of material burrowed from libraries and friends, the books that Brian had allowed him to keep in his office, along with his notebooks of stories, already took up the lower half of the large bookshelf. He smiled to himself, knowing that he would have free access to literature and other sources of knowledge now that he was out.

BRINGGG.......BRIINNGGGG!!
BRINGGG.......BRIINNGGGG!!

Squee was startled at the shrill sound before remembering the cell phone he had acquired at the Mall. Only one person had the number so far. “Letta?”

“Hey, Squee. You okay? Dad wasn't too hard on you, was he?” she asked in her nicest big-sister type voice.

“Oh, no. He was cool. I'm fine. Everything is fine,” he reassured her.

“I'm glade. You really had me worried there.”

“Yeah. I'm..uh..really sorry about that.”

“Don't sweat it. That was actually the most fun I've had at Church since Sheri and I went down on each other in the confessional booth a few years ago,” she confided with a small laugh.

“Wow, er thanks, I think,” he bashfully crocked.

“Squeegee, are you blushing?”

“No. Of course not. Why would I be doing something like that?” he lied.

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe cause you do it every time I mention sex?” The smirk in her voice could be heard over the phone.

“Yes, well, I've been very sheltered,” he defended rather poorly.

“I guess a maximum security mental hospital will do that to ya, huh? But I have tried my best to counteract that, haven't I?”

“Heh. Yeah. Thanks for that. Really.”

“You're welcome, kid. Now! Enough with the sentimentality. I called for a reason. You forgot your new gothy cloths in my car.”

“Ouch. And here I thought you called cause you cared.” His voice was an obvious imitation of emotional distress.

“Of course I care about you Todd. Your the only person I've ever meet with just the right amount of crazy to be the little brother I never had,” she said truthfully.

“Thanks Letta. No one offends me and flatters me at the same time quite like you.”

“It's a gift. So, I was thinking that I would stop by your house tomorrow before you left for skool. I could bring the stuff you left and give you a lift on my way to work.”

“Okay. That sounds good. Thanks a lot.”

“No problem. I'm headed that way anyway. Teena gave me the morning shift again at the coffee shop. I'm really starting to regret taking all my classes in the afternoon this year. Speaking of which, I really need to do some last minute homework and head to bed. You should probably get some sleep too.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Have a good night.”

“You too. See ya bright and early.”

After hanging up, Squee set his cell phone's alarm to go off at six-thirty and placed it on his night stand. He deposited the box and his dress cloths in his closet, and changed into his pajamas. He realized that for the first time in eight years, he could probably sleep in his boxers or even nude without having to worry about other people barging into his room at designated periods and wee hours. Then again, Johnny could always decide to resume his old habit of paying him late night visits full of spooky bedtime stories. Even if by chance, Nny realized that Squee was just a bit too old for bedtime stories, there was always the possibility of those aliens returning.

He shuttered. He wasn't supposed to believe that those incidents were real, but the memories were so vivid! Also, his friend, Dib, had been lending credence to them for years with his own stories. Then he had returned to skool, only to have the horribly disguised truth staring him in the face and announcing loudly that his name was Zim. Yes, there was definitely more to those old memories, and maybe some of the stranger ones as well, more than humanity in general wanted to admit. Maybe that's why they had a tendency to hide people like Dib and himself away where no one would have to listen to them.

After this thought, Squee closed the closet door securely and climbed into his already unmade bed. Actually, “unmade” wasn't really the best description as the bed was in perfectly neat order. It just so happened that said other consisted of the covers being folded neatly down to the foot of the bed. After all, making up the bed would only serve to trap heat and moisture, providing a breeding ground for dust mites. Squee liked to keep the little buggers to a minimum.

Just as he felt himself drift into a peaceful rest in his comfy nonprison/mental health center issued bed a slow creaking sound startled him, driving away his tranquil state. He forced his eyes open and glanced at the door to his room, expecting a drug-induced, accidental visit from his mother. Nothing. The door was securely closed. There was a rustling between the closet and the foot of his bed. He quickly sat up and turned his frightened gaze in that direction, but once again nothing seemed out of place.

Maybe he really was crazy. Maybe he never should have stopped taking the sleeping pills the D.H.M.I. had prescribed. Even so, this really shouldn't be happening. He was still taking the antipsychotics. Okay, Squee, just go back to sleep. It's just your nerves acting up. You can handle this. As long as you don't give in to the panic, you're okay. As long as you know your hallucinations aren't real, you aren't delusional. Squee lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He continued his increasingly comforting internal monolog, which was transforming into a mantra of “It's not real” and “everything is okay”.

He felt his mind and body becoming more relaxed, but as he deemed it safe to drop the mantra, he felt something on his chest, near his heart. It was deadly cold and seemed to clutch at his very being with vaguely hand shaped sinews of polarized pressure. He felt wide awake again, the fear overwhelming his previous rationalizations. His eyes shot wide open. He couldn't see whatever was on his chest, but could still felt it there. At this point he wasn't sure that he wanted to see the cause of his distress. While his inability to see his tormentor was maddening and terrifying, seeing it might make it even more so.

The “hand” tightened its grip on him, and the tindens sunk deeper into his...his what? He felt like someone had just injected a shot of fear on the rocks into his very soul. An icy, consuming dread crept through him, and his world became distorted. As the cold invaded his being, a preternatural darkness spread over his room. It started at the ceiling, slowly climbing down the walls and onto the floor. By the street light still shinning through his bedroom window, Squee gasp in horror as he recognized the darkness as dark red blood. When the blood reached the floor, it kept going without even waiting to pool first where the walls meet the floor as gravity should have demanded. The light from the window was now tented red as the blood covered the pane. As the blood reached the bed, it began a methodical accent up the legs.

Squee could feel himself start to hyperventilate. It was almost as if the blood had a consciousness, and it was closing in on him. He wanted to run, but there was no way out now. On the walls and the floor, the blood still lingered, but it was now a light coating covering something else. Something even more wrong. Beneath the blood was visible tissue. Muscle and fibers covered strange bulges. Bits of wall were visible in places, an unmistakable bone white covered in a thin sheet of red where once there had been dark green.

Squee was torn from his fascinated horror at this newest revelation when the blood, which was now on the bed soaking his sheets, did finally pool just to lung for his midsection. A scream died in his throat as the invisible terror was now coated in blood as well and holding a remarkable resemblance to the the rest of his monstrous room. He was frozen with fear as the blood ran down the thing's pointy appendages to his own body. His gut clenched as the fluid entered and covered his body. He could feel in taking him over, congealing on the outside to form strong veins, wrapping him in a sick and possessive embrace, but could do nothing to stop it. He shuddered involuntarily as new tissue started to grow between the sinister binds, over his blood drenched flesh.

As the substance traveled through the boy's system, he neared the breaking point. He could hear his heart beat loudly in his ears, and realized that the tissue clinging to his body was pulsing in sync with its rhythm. Suddenly, he could feel the entire house pulsating as well. It was alive! The monster was alive, and he was its heart. As his being was engrossed with the strange blood, he could feel the monster growing, spreading through the street and then the city. As it grew, it claimed all in its wake. He could hear the wailing voices of its living victims, feel the thing feeding on them, consuming them more throughly than it had consumed him, but he couldn't stop it. As the monster feasted on the blood of the victims, their blood mixed with its own.

Squee felt the blood of the tortured dead circulating through him, and as it did he heard the wailing again. It was louder this time and closer. It was in the blood itself. It filled him, but was not filtered back out with the blood. It was too much, too intense. He had to get it out. He couldn't move, couldn't rip away from the thing that claimed him, the thing that was him. There was only one thing left to do. He opened his mouth and let out a chorus of wails, setting them free as they filled him, though they would never stop poring in. The eerie resonance of hundreds of pained cries simultaneously filled the room.

Todd shot bolt right up in bed, reflectively stifling a panicked cry with his hand, something he had conditioned himself to do at the D.H.M.I. to avoid being drugged and restrained. He took several deep breaths and gave a sigh of relief, realizing that it had all been a dream. As he looked around his blood-free room to regain a sense of semi normality, however, he noticed that the closet door was now open. The box Brian had given him was now open on its side just outside of the closet. Old clothes, a few books and other miscellaneous objects from said box were strewn across the floor in a loose trail leading right to his bed. He swallowed a knot in his throat before looking down to the bed. What he saw then elicited a scream that he couldn't muffle in time. Sitting in his lap was an old teddy bear with several bad stitch jobs and hollow black eyes that seemed to stare searingly into his own.

---------------------------------------End Chapter Three----------------------------------------------

I promise there will be Invader Zim characters in the next chapter! The OCs will play a much smaller role after this chapter.

Squee and Invader Zim characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez
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Sublime Awakenings