Killer King (Johnny The Homicidal Maniac)

The Vile Beginning

Johnny sat in his room, wide awake. The harsh bitters of the winter cold surrounding every inch and crevice in his chamber. He sighed as his eyes were barely seeming to open anymore; though the cold made him feel alive. It was one AM on a Monday morning and he seemed like he was about to crash and burn. Feeling his body go limp as he entered under the covers. He looked at the clock on his bedside as his curtains flapped from the windy air from outside. He noticed the time. "Fuck..." He violently whispered. He closed his eyes quickly, the coolness on his face relaxing him instantly. He drifted off; a slumber that seemed too good to be true. Something that seemed quite surprising as he seemed to be a night owl, yet fell right asleep. His brain scattered and his mind wandered off into emptiness. His dreams filled with blood, hatred, and blame. The dreams were filled with murder as his consciousness was out like a light in the night sky. Though he had nightmares, he kept his body from being uncomfortable with that coolness hitting his body, preventing him from breaking out in sweats in the dead of night; making him wake up earlier than he had to for his school which would be five days a week for six hours a day- though he would wake up two hours before that and it would take an hour to walk home from school. A horrid experience he must endure for one more year.  He was an active person, full of energy. But he seemed to be the scrawny guy at school with no muscle. Most people at school gave him the name 'Noodle Boy' for his attire and his stature which was definitely something he hated to be called, yet found a creative drive from the name.  As he laid in bed, his body tossed and turned, hearing the words "No, Johnny! Don't!" from his mother and "Son! I thought you were better than this!" from his father,  his dreams filling with bloodshed, the sound of chainsaws and drills echoing his head along with screams of both his parents. His only loved ones or the ones that loved him. His mother decapitated, the Red water spilling and spurting from her neck as her head was clean chopped off her whole body. His dad having a hole straight through his heart, residue of heart guts on the drill. The blood pouring out from his body giving him convulsions as he fought for his chest to spawn to life again, though failed. Johnny looked at his own hands, the dark redness escaping and dripping from between his fingers onto the wooden floor. They shook like a tree in a storm and he stood still as he looked at his demolished parents just like a deer in headlights, and suddenly he screamed himself. The echo's haunting his head and eventually his whole room. The void in the darkness now had noise. Noise of terrifying and morbid screams, disturbing visions and voices in his head telling him to do such horrible and dangerous things, that in his whole life he would never have imagined doing- or anyone else in the history of time. To feed the wall that thirsts for blood, to live with that demon forever. To carry the creature with him where ever he goes. That voice in his head was indeed the demon.