Back to hell.
He wished he hadn't fallen asleep, but he couldn't resist. The feeling of Mikey's fingers brushing through his hair, his hand softly rubbing his back, him whispering gently to get him to calm down, and the look of sympathy tainted with a deep confliction, sent enough relaxation as he needed through him.
The confliction; he knew what it was, and he knew why, and the reason satisfied him. Mikey was disgusted with his actions and behavior, but his sympathy for JJ's situation kept him here, in his grasp, unable to confront of fully leave him. This would ensure that JJ would always have control; because of his mental issues. He could use it as an excuse whenever he wanted.
Occasionally, he whimpered on purpose just to hear Mikey's sweet whispers and feel his hands coaxing along his body; and to see his desprate, hopeless eyes as proof that he was faking it just for him and his relaxation. He was afraid of another outburst or breakdown, and JJ knew that.
"I have you wrapped right around my finger." He'd thought, leaning into his chest and breathing in his intoxicating scent, which triggered him to lean in further and fully trap Mikey's body against his own, casuing Mikey to let out an uncomfortable gasp. "And as long as I'm alive, I'm going to keep it that way. You're mine, Mikey, and I will never let you escape."
This sequence of thought had seemingly angered JJ's tormentors, and now, he was here to pay for it. And, quite likely, to also pay for his sex with Mikey that he'd pressured him into. Clearly, the traumatic and violent hallucination hadn't been enough, considering how he'd gone right back to his plagued way of thinking just a handful of minutes after it had happened. Now, he was about to endure more punishment.
But something about this time was different. JJ was indeed in the black void, but his vision wasn't clear, like usual. It was edged with blurr and fuzz, and his sights ahead were slightly dim. He kept hearing a buzzing noise in the far distance, but he couldn't decipher which direction it was coming from.
Just then, he heard a faint, muffled voice. At first it was recognizable, but soon enough, it became more distinct. More clear. More terrified.
JJ froze. He hadn't heard this voice in years.
Then, he could hear the words along with the voice. It was crying for help; begging for him to hurry up. JJ looked in all directions, frantic, panic swarming him, until he saw a hazy form ahead of him.
JJ's throat tightened when he saw it. The memories began to stab him like a knife once he took it all in, painful fear searing through him, until a cry of terror and grief was let out without his control.
In front of him was his mother, a deep gash along her back, caked in blood. Her eyes were lifeless; permanently glazed with the desperation she'd felt before she died. JJ didn't want to look at it anymore, but he couldn't turn away or move at all. He trembled pathetically, tears streaming down his face as he was forced to stare at the gnarled corpse of his mother.
"It was my fault." JJ repeated it in his head, over and over again, making himself feel worse. "When she needed me most, I failed her. I should have been killed right after she was. Why did fate decide that I deserved to live? I'm a pathetic, useless failure. I deserve anything but a life. January 12th will be the day I finally die, like I should've a long time ago."
He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, finally managing to look away for a split second, only for an unexplainable force to give him the urge to look again. And what he saw next, was a whole new level of terrifying.
Ahead of him lay bodies upon bodies of bloodied, ravaged corpses, all of people he knew. Bob, Rob, Will, Elizabeth, Tom, Sarah, Mary; their bodies barely recognizable due to what the killer clowns had done to them. JJ felt dizzy and nauseous; the blood and gore so bright and intense it nearly took away his balance. But as he was backing up, his foot hit something. Turning around, JJ didn't see any blood this time, but it was still sickening nonetheless.
