ATTENTION KMART SHOPPERS.

So I'm pretty excited about this fic! I've got FairDrea (author of Haunting Temptations) as my Beta! Amazing right?!

I've been mulling over this story for quite some time and I'm hoping it makes a hit!

There will be MANY Burton references, cameos, and actual character appearances-so I do hope you enjoy this trip into Tim Burton Hell lol

I do not own any characters or references to Betelgeuse(Beetlejuice). I'm just writhing for my own enjoyment and do not profit from it.


In every fairy tale that Lydia has ever read, there was always a happy ending for the hero and princesses. They're ride of into the sunset without a single care in the world. Some even popped out a few kids.

So it's clearly understandable that Lydia should expect the same ending for her story…right?

They defeated the bad guy...ghost…. and they made peace with the resident ghost couple. So there wasn't anything to worry about right? It should have been smiles; sunshine and Harry Belafonte dance a longs.

But fate seems to like giving Lydia the metaphorical middle finger.

She only had minutes but they seemed more like fractional seconds. Her backpack didn't seem nearly as big as she though it was as she stuffed various articles of clothing to the bottom of the bag. Lydia then ran into the bathroom and grabbed her toothbrush, toothpaste, and her hairbrush. The items flew across the room and into her backpack. Next were her notebook, a few pens, and camera. She hoped the batteries would last a bit longer.

A quick change of clothes and she then zipped up her backpack and hoisted it onto her back. She pulled out her wallet from her jean pocket and opened it.

Drivers license. Dad's credit card. Fifty dollars in change. It'll have to do.

Lydia stared down at her shaking hands. She knew her face was wet from the ever-flowing tears, but she'd waste precious seconds whipping them away.

Now she needed a means of escape.

Lydia went to her balcony door and threw it open. The French doors hit the side paneling of the house with a loud bang. She cringed, as she was sure the people downstairs heard. Her time was now cut in half.

She searched everywhere. She couldn't jump, lest she land wrong and break an ankle; she'd be doomed then. There was a lattice on the side panel near her balcony, but she would have to jump in order to grab it.

Lydia?

Too late. Her hands gripped the guardrail and she was about to swing her legs over when a sudden tug at her heart stopped her. She was forgetting something.

A quick glance over her shoulder told her, her intuition was right. As if having a life force of its own, her mother's jewelry box sat along on her dresser, begging her to take it with her.

She only had seconds.

Lydia ran across the room and snatched up the small box before the door to her room burst open. She let out a cry as one of the men in white made a grab for her. Her heel turned on the carpet and she nearly fell face first but she recovered and dashed for the balcony.

Delia screamed her name over and over again but Lydia could only think of gaining enough memento to jump the rail…

The man's enormous hand landed on her shoulder and jerked her back, digging his fingers in to gain a grip. Lydia turned her mouth on his hairy skin and sank her teeth in. She nearly laughed as he let go with an almost child like scream. His blood tasted like dirty copper in her mouth.

Lydia!

The Goth girl grabbed the railing and swung her legs over the side. It would have been perfect if she didn't have her mother's jewelry box in her hand, so instead of getting a firm hold on the lattice, her hands slipped, and she rode the lattice side like a fireman's pole. Her feet landed on the pavement of the driveway and her nerves sent shocks of electricity up her legs from the improper landing. Lydia sucked in air through her teeth and tried to grit through the pain, but in reality she didn't have the luxury to deal with pain right now. The asylum techs where already halfway down the stairs.

Willing her feet to move, Lydia stumbled towards her dad's Buick. Thank God he parked on the opposite side of the driveway; the other car was blocked by a white van. The Buick was also facing towards the road. A quick escape.

She wrenched the door to the gray Buwick open and threw her backpack and jewelry box in the passenger's side before sliding in the driver's seat. She immediately hit the car locks.

Delia appeared at the cars front and was banging furiously on the hood. Whatever she was screaming at Lydia about fell on deaf ears. She could see a white coat at the corner of her eye as one of the men worked at the door's handle.

Shaking hands searched every inch of the tan leather interior before finding the car keys already in the ignition. Lydia paused. Her fingers touched the keys with a reverence before she realized that her dad never left the keys in the car, let alone in the ignition.

Delia had said that if she ever went crazy, she was taking them down with her too. Charles must have already seen it happening.

Thanks dad.

Snapping out of it, Lydia turned the keys and started the engine. The roar of the engine was Delia's only warning to get out of the way. Her stepmother took the hint and backed off from the car, screaming at the top of her lungs something about the police.

Lydia hit the clutch, switched the gears, and floored the gas.

She then gave Fate a middle finger right back.