Brandon Todd

Brandon Todd is the Cheshire Cat's proxy that appears in the CreepyPasta story titled, We're All Mad Here.

Appearance
He is seen wearing a hood around his head and wore a white mask on his face. He wore a scarf around his neck, and a brown jacket. Brandon wore black gloves and carries a backpack on his back (he was later revealed as a teenager). Brandon Todd wore a black and yellow belt with pockets around the belt, and black pants and shoes.

Origin Story
The road continued to outstretch in front of the vehicle endlessly. The light that shone through the branches of the tall green trees danced across the window in random patterns, every once in a while, obnoxiously shining in your eyes. The surrounding was full of deep green trees forming a forest around the road. The only sound was the sound of the cars engine as it traveled down the path. It was peaceful and let off a serene feeling. Although the ride seemed like a nice one, it lacked every form of ‘nice’ for both passengers. The middle-aged woman behind the steering wheel had neat short brown hair that fit her complexion quite well. She wore a red t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Diamond stud earrings decorated each of her ears which partially shown from behind her hair cut. She had deep green eyes and the lighting seemed to make them more noticeable. There wasn’t much significance to her appearance. She just looked like any “average mother” that you’d see on TV shows and such, but one thing for sure made her differ from those “average mothers” and that was the dark bags under her eyes. Her facial expression was gloomy and sad, although she genuinely looked like one who smiled a lot. She would sniffle every once in a while, and occasionally glance back in the rear-view mirror to look back at her son in the back seat, who was hunched over partially, his arms held tight around his chest, and his head pressed against the cold window.

Brandon Todd, was the boy's name.

His messy brown hair went in every which way, his eyes where dark, unlike his mother’s and he wore a white t-shirt and grey denim jeans. The road home continued on for what seemed like forever. It took so long to get home, almost, painstaking. When the surrounding gave into a familiar neighborhood, they had both been more then ready to get out of the car and step back into their own home. It was a older neighborhood, with quaint little houses all next to each other. The car drove in front of a little blue house, with white window panes. They both quickly noticed the old vehicle that was parked in front of the house, and the familiar figure who stood out in the driveway. His mother pulled the car up into the driveway beside him before turning off the engine and preparing to step out and face her husband.

"Why is he here?” Brandon said quietly as he looked back at his mother who reached to open the car door.

“He’s your father Brandon, he’s here because he wants to see you,” His mother responded with a monotone voice, trying to sound less shaky.

“Yet he couldn’t have driven up to the hospital to see Lyra before Alex died,” Brandon narrowed his eyes out the window.

“He was drunk that night honey, he couldn’t drive-”

“Yeah when is he not,”

Brandon pushed open the door before his mother and stumbled out onto the driveway where he met his father’s gaze before looking down at his feet with a stern expression. His mother stepped out behind him and met her husband’s eyes before walking around the car. His father opened up his arms, expecting a hug from his wife, but she walked passed him and put her arm around Toby’s shoulder and influenced him to begin walking inside.

“Carol,” her husband began to say under a raspy voice, “What, no welcome home hug, huh?”

She ignored her husband’s obnoxious words and walked passed him with her son under her arm.

“Hey, He’s 16 he can walk by himself,” his father began to follow them in.

“He’s 17,” Carol glared back at him before opening the door to the house and stepping inside.

“Brandon, why don’t we get you in your room to rest okay? I’ll come get you when dinner is ready-”

“No, I’m 16 I can walk by myself,” Brandon said sarcastically, and glared back at his father before stumbling up the small staircase and turning into his room.

His little room didn’t have much in it. Just a small bed, a dresser, a window, and his walls had a few framed pictures of his family, back when they where a family. Before his father became an alcoholic, and acted violently towards the rest of his family. Brandon remembered when his dad was arguing with his mother and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her to the floor, and when his brother, Alex, had tried to break it up, he pushed him and he hit his back on the corner of the kitchen counter. Brandon could never forgive him for what he did to his mother and brother. Never. Brandon didn’t care how much his father beat him down, he couldn’t feel it anyway due to the constant pain he caused him, what he did care about was how his dad intentionally hurt the only two people he cared about. And when he waited in the hospital, where his brother took her last few breaths because of a motorcycle accident, the only person who didn’t rush there, was his dad. Brother stood by the window and looked out onto the street. He could have sworn he saw things out of the corner of his eye, but quickly blamed it on the medication he had been put on.

When dinner time had come around and his mother called up to him, Brandon came down the stairs and hesitantly sat down at the table across from his father, and in between his mother and an empty chair. It was quiet as his parents picked at their food, but Brandon refused to eat. Instead he just watched his dad with a blank stare. His mother caught onto his stare towards his father and elbowed him slightly. Brandon looked over at her slightly and look down at his uneaten food, in which he didn’t touch.

Brandon laid in bed, he pulled his covers over his head and stared at the window. He was tired but there was no way he would fall asleep. He couldn’t, there was too much to think about. He had been debating on whether or not to follow his mother’s directions and forgive his father, or continue holding a grudge with his boiling hatred. He heard his door creak open, and his mother padded into the room and sat on the bed next to him. She reached over and rubbed his back, which had been turned to her.

“I know it’s hard Brandon, trust me, I understand... but I promise you it will get better” she said softly.

“When is he going to leave?” Brandon said with a innocent tone in his shaky voice. Carol let her gaze fall down to her feet.

“I don’t know honey, he's staying as far as I know,” she replied.

Brandon didn’t respond. He just continued to look forward at the wall. After a few minutes of silence, his mother sighed, before she leaned in to kiss his cheek and stood up to walk out of the room.

“Good night,” she said as she closed the door.

The hours passed slowly, and Brandon couldn’t quit tossing and turning. Every time he let his imagination take over, he heard the screeching of tires, and he could uncontrollably jerk in bed. He stood up and walked around his bed to the window and peered out. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, and continued to look out at the group of tall pine trees across the street. He stopped suddenly, and his gaze slowly centered on something in the woods. A faint set of gnarled teeth fixed in a smile.

"What the hell..." He whispered to himself.

Suddenly, he heard ringing in his ears, but he couldn't help but stare. The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder each second he stared, before suddenly it all went black.

The next morning Brandon woke in his bed. He felt different. He wasn’t tired at all, and when he consciously woke up, it felt like he had been lying there, awake for hours. He had no thoughts flowing through his mind. He sat up slowly and stumbled over to the wall, but when he stood up he automatically felt dizzy. He stumbled to the doorway and walked down the stairs. His parents were sitting at the table, his father was in-tuned with the small TV that sat on the countertop, and his mother reading the newspaper. She quickly looked over when she felt Brandon’s presence looming behind her.

"Well, good morning sleepy head, you’ve been sleeping forever,” She greeted him with hesitated smile.

Brandon slowly looked over at the clock and noticed that it was 12:30 p.m.

“I made you breakfast but it got cold, I was going to wake you, but I felt you needed sleep,” her expression fell from happy to worried as her son resisted responding to her. “Honey? Are you alright?”

Suddenly, her son looked at her, and answered back with a voice as flat as that on an answering machine.

"Fine."

Brandon stumbled over and sat by his father. He felt as if he was on idle, and had no control over his actions or vocal inflections. He was seeing everything he did and said, but it didn’t seem to register in his brain properly. He reached out to his father’s arm, but his father saw this and edged away from his son.

"Stop that!" His father said, "What are trying to do, rape me?"

“Alright knock that off!" Carol said, "That is the last thing we need!”

The father and son looked at each other, then back at Carol, and agreed.

The days went by, and things continued on as they where. Carol spent most of her time cleaning up the house, and her rude husband spent most of his time ordering her around. It was just how it used to be before the motorcycle crash. Brandon never really left his room. He would sit by his bed. His mind would wonder, but his thoughts changed to fast to be remembered. He would pace around his small room like a caged animal, or stare out the window. The unhealthy cycle continued. Carol continued to be pushed around by her husband, being way too submissive to him, and Brandon remained in his room. Before he could think twice, he would begin to chew on his arm, tearing the flesh from his forearm. He would gnaw his arms until they bled. When his mother walked in on him while he was doing so, she reacted horribly. She rushed him downstairs and grabbed the first aid, wrapping his arms in it. She demanded that he wouldn’t leave her side from then. His father saw this and reacted the same way, only he thought of it as a hunger problem. Brandon isolated himself so much that he grew to hate being around others. His memory grew glitchy as well. He’d start missing memory of minutes, hours, days, and so on. He would begin talking nonsense, about things completely unrelated to conversations he would have. He’d go off about seeing things, snakes in his sink as he washed the dishes, hearing voices in his pillows, and seeing demons outside his bedroom window. All the nonsense landed him in a counselors office. His mother grew too anxious about his mental health, she decided it would be good for him to talk to a professional about what he was feeling.

Carol walked Brandon into the building, holding his hand and guiding him in. She walked him up to the front desk and began talking to the lady who sat behind it.

“Mrs. Todd?” The lady asked.

“Yes that’s me,” Carol nodded, “We’re here to see doctor Smith, I’m here with Brandon Todd.”

“Yes, right this way.” The lady stood up and lead them down a long hallway. Brandon looked at the framed artwork down the halls and tuned in to the sound of the lady’s high heels on the hardwood floor. She opened the door to a room with a table and two chairs.

“If we can get him to sit in here for a few minutes, I’ll get the doctor,” She smiled and held the door open.

Brandon stumbled into the room and sat down at the table. He looked over at his mother and the lady before the door slowly shut behind them. He looked around the room before he held up his tightly bandaged arms and began to bite at the bandages to unwrap them, but was interrupted as the door swung open and a young man in a black suit and glasses stepped in, holding a clipboard and a pen.

“Brandon?” he asked with a smile. Brandon looked up at him and nodded. “Nice to meet you Brandon. My name is Doctor Smith.”

Brandon shook hands with the doctor.

“So I’m going to ask you a few questions, try to answer them as honestly as possible okay?” He placed his clipboard down on the table. Brandon nodded slowly and held his restrained arms around his chest.

“How old are you Brandon?” he asked.

“17” he responded quietly. He wrote that down on the paper that was clipped to the clipboard.

“What is your full name?”

“Brandon Gregory Todd”

“What is your birthday?”

“January 2nd”

“Who is your immediate family?”

Brandon paused for a minute before answering his question, “My Mom, My Dad, and…” he stopped, “M-my brother”

“I heard about your brother dear… I’m really sorry,” his expression faded into a sad, pity-filled look. Brandon nodded.

“Do you remember anything from the crash Brandon?” Brandon looked away from him. His mind went blank for a moment. He looked down at his lap, and in the surrounding, he heard a faint ringing sound. His eyes widened and he froze in his place. The doctor looked at him puzzled for a moment, but wrote notes on his clipboard, knowing that he might be traumatized about what happened.

Brandon felt a shiver go down his spine, until he froze once again and slowly looked over out the little window through the door, where he saw it. An emaciated, almost skeletal appearance; it's bones can be seen through it's fur-less, gray skin. It's decaying starved appearance is suggestive of a cat carcass that has been rotting for years. And it peered in at him, smiling with a gnarled set of teeth fixed in a wide smile that stretched it's entire face. He stared, eyes widened, the ringing growing louder and louder until suddenly, he heard the doctor's voice breaking him out of his trance.

"Brandon? Are you okay?"

A surprised look in Brandon's eyes. Brandon met his eyes again, his breath hitching. Brandon looked back, and the creature was gone.

"I'll be fine..." Brandon answered the doctor.

That night Brandon laid in bed. His eyes dazed as he stared straight up at his ceiling. He could feel himself begin to doze off, when he heard the scattering of footsteps down his hallway. He sat up and looked towards the doorway, his door wide open. There was no light, everything was lit by the luminescent blue glow of the moon through his window, leaving a cold lighting. He stood up and slowly made his way towards the doorway, when suddenly the door, which was previously wide open, slammed in his face. He gasped and fell back. His was out of breathe when he hit the ground and he began breathing heavily, his eyes wide open. He waited for a few seconds before getting back up on his feet. He reached out and grasped the cold door handle with his bandaged hand and creaked it open. He looked out into the dark hallway and tiptoed out of his room. The window at the end of the hallway lit up the darkness with blue moonlight as he padded his way down. He could hear footsteps rustling around him, and faint giggling let by the pitter patter of small feet, which sounded like a child had run in front of him, giggling and running around. The hallway was a lot longer than he had remembered. It seemed endless… like the ride home from the hospital. He heard a door creak in front of him.

Suddenly a door slammed behind him and he jumped and turned around. Behind him he heard a long eerie groan from behind him, that sounded to croak right in his ear. He turned around as fast as he could and was suddenly face to face with none other than his dead brother. His eyes were clouded white, his skin pale, and the right side of her jaw only dangling on by tissue and muscle, and black blood leaking down his body. His hair shaved in a buzz cut as it always was, wearing his white tank top, denim jeans and leather jacket which were dirty and spotted with blood. He stood, emitting a long croaking noise, only an inch away from Brandon’s face.

Brandon yelped and fell back, he started to crawl backwards away from him, not able to break the eye contact he held with his, blank, dead eyes. He dragged himself backwards until he backed up into something. He stopped for a second. Everything was dead silent except for his heavy breathing and crying. He slowly looked up to meet the decaying starved appearance of a cat that stood over him smiling that damn smile, it could've been at least seven feet tall. Behind the grotesque creature where rows of children, looking to range from 3 to 10 years, their eyes completely white and dark black blood leaked from their eye sockets. He screamed and stood up as fast as he could only to be tripped by a claw that wrapped around his ankle. He fell straight on his stomach and got the wind knocked out of his chest. He tried to scream out but he couldn’t make a sound. He wheezed out, before it all went black.

Brandon woke up with a start. He screamed out and sat up as fast as he could, completely short of breathe. He wheezed out and held his chest with his bandaged arms. It was just a dream…. just a dream. He laid back down on his bed and rolled over on his side. It felt like a giant weight had been lifted off his chest as he took in deep breathes. He stood up and padded over to his window. He saw nothing. Nobody was out there. No demon cats. No monsters. Nothing. His door was closed. He walked over and opened it. Looking out into the hallway once again. He padded down the hallway and into the kitchen where he suddenly found his dad in suspended animation. Floating in mid air by something! Brandon's eyes grew as wide as car tires, he held his mouth with his hand, and could do nothing but watch in horror!

"Please, for the love of God, help me!" His dad said, blood gushing out of his eyes, nose, ears and mouth.

Then he saw what was holding his father like this. A faint set of gnarled teeth fixed in a smile.

When Brandon finally found his voice, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. What he meant to ask was, "What the fuck do you want from me?!" in an angry, commanding tone. What came out was a whimper: "W-What…?"

A loud scream broke the silence. He looked over to see his mother standing a few feet away, covering her mouth, tears streaming down her eyes. “Kevin!” she screamed, she looked over and grabbed the largest knife in the holder, aimed at the creature.

"Brandon get behind me!" She ordered.

That was it. That was when Brandon stared eye-to-eye with the creature. Brandon felt idle once again, and walked slowly towards the monster.

His mother snapped at him, "Brandon! Brandon! Get away from it!"

Brandon didn't listen, he just kept stepping towards the grotesque monster before him, as he got closer, he could feel the stench of rotting flesh in the monster's breath.

"B-Brandon!" His mother cried, screamed, and begged.

Brandon's vision became blurred, and heard loud ringing in his ears, before fainting onto the floor.

The creature broke every in her husband's body with a loud CRACK, and her husband's corpse fell on the ground with a loud thud. She gasped and looked at the creature. It placed it's boney paw on Brandon's back, and vanished without a trace.

That was it. That was the end. That was how Brandon Todd. Died.

A few weeks later Carol sat in her sister’s kitchen. Her sister, Marge sat next to her drinking a cup of coffee. About three weeks ago, Carol lost her husband, and her son, and a few weeks before, she lost another son to a motorcycle crash. Since then she moved in with her sister. The police were keeping her busy, they had just finished cleaning up the case, and the story had been released two weeks ago, and the focus of the world seemed to have shifted to completely new stories. Marge switched on the TV to a news broadcast. On the T.V. the news reporter began introducing the new headline. “We have breaking news! Last night there has been a reported murder of 6 individuals. There are no suspects yet but the victims were a group of middle school kids who had been out in the woods late last night. The kids had been stabbed to death. The investigators had discovered a weapon at the crime scene which appears to be a large knife, as you can see here” The pictured changed to show snapshots of the weapon exactly as it was left on the crime scene. “Investigators had pulled the name of a possible suspect, Brandon Todd, a 17 year old boy who a few weeks ago had murdered his father for reasons unknown. Although they had believed the young boy had disappeared in the home, investigators suspect that Todd may still be alive, due to the fact that his body was never found.”

Abilities
Murder Methods

Peak Human Conditions

Hand-To-Hand Combat

Peak Strength

Peak Athleticism

High Stamina

Speed

Durability

Enhanced Senses

Stealth

Psychopathy

Bloodlust

Hobby
Killing

Drinking

Smoking

Serving his master (Cheshire Cat)

Habitat
He is usually seen in wooded areas, wither being hiking trails, up in the mountains, or even in residential areas, it is the best spot to see him lurking in the shadows.

Weaknesses
Humanity - He's still human, so he can feel pain regardless and die from either blood loss, gunshots, or knife stabs.

Insanity - His own mental illness can get the better of him and make him loose focus during in all-out brawl.

Major Kills And Body Count
Billy Parker - Dead by knife stabs

Josh Gibson - Dead by a baseball bat to the head

Suzie Kyle - Dead by knife stabs

Marie Clark - Dead by knife stabs

Terry Parker - Dead by cinder block to the head

Total Body Count - 21147