Disclaimer: I don't own Juliette Sarmansadandle, Toki Wartooth, Charles Ofdensen, Nathan Explosion, Skwisgaar Skwigelf, William Murderface, or Pickles the Drummer. I never claimed to own them, so don't sue me. I do however own Dr. Krieger and the personality depicted of Mrs. Sarmansadandle. The events in the story below are based off of the Metalocalypse episode 'Dethkids' from Juliette's perspective. It never actually occurs in the show
Warning: Angst and heavy subject matter. Also, alcohol references and moderate profanity. Rated T.
"I'm so sorry," Dr. Krieger murmured with a frown. He took the little girl's soft hand with the gentlest of pressures. He stared down at her hand for another moment before looking at the girl's mother. The tiny woman took a Kleenex from her purse and prepared herself for the inevitable words about to fall from Dr. Krieger's sad frown. He quickly glanced back at the little girl in question, then proclaimed, "The tests results came back. She was…positive." Immediately, her mother's eyes erupted with tears like a volcano.
Juliette Sarmansadandle tilted her little head gently, confused. "Positive?" Her thin blonde locks fell around her shoulders loosely.
"For throat cancer," he finally sputtered, overwhelmed with emotion himself. She was so innocent and quiet, so young and beautiful. He'd gone against every rule in his doctor's book and got personal with a patient; he hoped and he hoped that the biopsy would come back negative, but that wasn't the case. Little Juliette would be dead in six months.
"Treatment options?" asked Mrs. Sarmansadandle after a few silent moments. "Is…is there anything that can be done?"
"There are a few obscure experimental options, but honestly, not really. The tumor is far too advanced. If only we could've caught it sooner…"
"But we didn't," the girl's mother finished with a sob. The only one who wasn't crying was the patient herself; Juliette only looked around mystified as the two closest adults in her life stared at the ground. She wasn't scared. She understood what was going on – even at eight years old, she was incredibly wise. She had felt the difficulty swallowing, the tightness of her throat. Now, as her mother wept over things that couldn't be changed, Juliette realized that she really should've told her mother sooner about the strange feeling she had – the feeling that something just wasn't right.
"My throat," she'd explained to her mother months earlier, "it hurts!"
"Oh, Juliette," her mother had dismissed with a wave. "You just have the cold. I'll take you to the doctor for some cough medicine later if you still have a scratchy throat." The little girl had immediately shook her head and pretended as though there was nothing wrong.
But, in truth, she'd known it wasn't a cold, or the flu. Her throat wasn't scratchy, it hurt.
"Chemotherapy?" her mother continued to suggest, bringing Juliette back into the doctor's office. "Radiation?" Dr. Krieger was shaking his head.
"Again, the cancer is too far advanced. I suppose we could, but there's such a low success rate that I could hardly see doing such a thing to a little girl…"
"I want anything that can be done to be done." Mrs. Sarmansadandle had an iron will.
"Perhaps we should leave that up to Juliette," Dr. Krieger muttered.
"She's just a child!" the girl's mother protested. "She can't make a logical choice!"
"I don't want any of that," Juliette murmured in her high-pitched voice. Both of the adults turned to look at her, stunned.
"Juliette!" her mother hissed. "You'll have treatment! You will not die without a fight!"
"I will," she spoke quietly in her wise tone. "I'd rather do all of the things I want to do before I die."
And with that, Dr. Krieger nodded. He would do nothing to compromise the girl's decision, since it was essentially her life.
[]
The small town immediately pounced on the opportunity to deify the young girl through means of the press; suddenly, Juliette Sarmansadandle's face was an inspiration of hope to cancer patient's everywhere, the bravery and strength of one little girl. Without treatment though, it didn't take long for her to grow weak and thin. Her once luscious blonde locks turned stringy and dirty, cheekbones become prominent over her gaunt cheeks. Eventually, she had to resort to a wheelchair when she lost the strength to walk. She never went to school, never saw her friends, never did anything. Juliette had nothing better to do than to sit and listen to the radio.
And that was when she heard the music.
It was dim at first, clarity muddled through the speaker's audio. She was quick to turn it up though, and what she heard was worthy of hell's tolling bells. It was the sound of roaring lyrics and loud electric guitar. Her face lit up at the sound; she felt strong again, despite her weakness. Juliette was sure that she could walk again!
She pushed her small, thin hands against the arms of her wheelchair and attempted to haul herself upwards, only managing to stand for a few brief seconds. But that was all she needed. She knew she had the strength and would be able to walk again someday.
As the music played on at the back of her mind, Juliette began to realize her situation; she was dying. She'd never grow up and play music like that, she'd never go to a concert and meet her new heroes. Her will to live diminished, and she sank deeper into her wheelchair.
"Juliette," Mrs. Sarmansadandle called. The little girl was sulking in her room and didn't respond to her mother's shouts. "You have mail!"
"More mail?" she muttered weakly. Every day she received letter after letter telling her how much she altered their lives, how they'd never forget her courage. Bitterness coursed through her veins instead of blood, and she realized that she hated being idolized, hated the crowds and the fanmail. All of it could stop for all she cared. None of it would help her make it to adulthood. She'd die soon no matter how much she inspired them. And of course they'd forget her. Years after her tragic death, a life cut short, they'd forget she'd ever even walked the face of the earth.
"It's…it's an offer. For charity." Juliette barely heard her mother's words.
"Charity?" she called back. What sort of charity this time?
"They want you to tell them your…ah, dying wish."
"My dying wish?" she breathed. There was only one thing she wanted to do before she died, now that her entire outlook had changed; she wanted to meet the makers of the metal that streamed through the radio even now. She wanted to meet whoever made the rhythmic sounds. The radio finally spat out the name of the band. "Dethklok," she repeated dully, thinking over her dying wish.
Yes, if there was any one thing to brighten her impending doom, it would be meeting the famous Dethklok. She only hoped the charity would come through for her and make her wish reality.
[]
The goo would never wash out, that Toki Wartooth was sure of. Green gunk hung from the tips of his long hair, from the tips of his caramel Fu Manchu. No matter how much he scrubbed and scrubbed, the goo refused to fall from his head. When the water started to turn cold, he decided to give up and reenter society. He stepped out of the shower and shivered lightly at the cold air.
"Stupids kids," he muttered, wrapping a black towel around his hips. The instant he exited the bathroom, he heard a loud argument spewing in the living room; Ofdensen and Nathan seemed to be the biggest contributors, but Murderface's and Pickles' tones could be heard every once in a while.
Toki couldn't hear Skwisgaar in the group. Thank Odin for that.
He tiptoed to his room and opened the door as quietly as possible, sneaking in as though a fugitive. Insanity. Why did he need to hide in his own home? The plain wooden door creaked slightly as it opened, causing Toki to cringe. He'd been hoping to not make so much noise, but that was apparently out of the question.
"Hello, Tokis," Skwisgaar whispered from behind him. Toki jumped, frightened, then relaxed and turned around. The lanky Swede was in only his pants and belt, shirtless so as to reveal his tiny torso. He was uncomfortably close to the Norwegian, so Toki backed into his room slowly.
"What you wants?" Toki asked accusingly. Usually, Skwisgaar went out of his way to ruin his day. Earlier that day, he'd already punched him in the mouth, convinced him there was no such thing as Saturday in America, and urinated in his tiny can of beer. So why was he being uncharacteristically formal and friendly?
"I comes to warns you. I heards 'bouts yous kids awards. Pfft," he quickly scoffed in between sentences, "kids don't means nothings."
"What's to warns?" asked Toki cautiously, hoping desperately that he wasn't being sucked into another joke or prank.
"Ofdensens amnest makings you meets dead kids."
"Dead kids?" He was incredulous.
"Nots dead yets, idiots." Skwisgaar rolled his eyes.
"Why?"
"Why whats? You amnest real dildos, huh? Can'ts nots being puttings yous sentences togethers…"
"Why ams you beings nice to me?" Toki demanded, sick of Skwisgaar's mood swings.
The Swede shrugged. "Nots nice. Helpfuls. And I don't knows."
Toki and Skwisgaar stared at each other for a moment, both having their chests bare and almost touching. They both flinched away, almost simultaneously. Skwisgaar shrugged and turned around, walking away.
"Thanks," Toki called after him, a moment too late. "Thanks for thats warnings!" But Skwisgaar never turned back around.
[]
Her tape was all recorded and ready, just waiting to be boxed up. Juliette and her mother were almost out of the house when she turned around and wheeled herself back to her room to grab the tape. She smiled at it gently, as though it were her friend, then immediately rolled back out onto the sidewalk. Mrs. Sarmansadandle took control of the wheelchair and maneuvered her over the rough patches of gravel, then helped her into the backseat of their small SUV.
Mordhaus, Juliette thought to herself happily. That was her destination. Fans were often killed on the way there, either by the well-known "klokateers" or by their famed manager himself, Mr. Ofdensen. It was considered an honor to be killed by either. The little girl daydreamed and thought about how beautiful it would be to be murdered by Toki Wartooth. She'd be remembered in history forever!
Meanwhile, Mrs. Sarmansadandle had pulled the SUV to a halt. Juliette glanced out the windshield to see that there was a winding driveway that led straight to Mordhaus. The only problem being that on either side of the driveway were long drops to certain death. Gawking, Juliette's mother carefully edged the vehicle closer to the driveway. Through the thick fog, they both could see the road was literally miles long, the whole way quite dangerous.
"Breathe," Juliette's mother commanded firmly. "We can do this." The little girl nodded uncertainly, not sure whether they actually could.
The entire journey, which was about three miles, was silent. For the most part, neither of them breathed as they crept uphill closer and closer to the famed Mordhaus. After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Sarmansadandle had successfully driven their SUV up the dangerous path to a waiting Mr. Ofdensen. He courteously helped Juliette's mother out the vehicle, then assisted in loading Juliette onto her wheelchair. Wind swept her short blonde hair around, but she didn't care. She was far too excited.
When she entered the front door, Nathan Explosion was the only one present. He was silent and brooding, staring down at her curiously. He looked unsure of what to do and somewhat self-conscious. He turned around and spotted a shirtless Pickles entering the room. Brightening, Nathan beckoned him forward.
"Heya, kid," Pickles mumbled, attempting to hide an alcohol bottle. "I'm Pickles da Drummer."
"Nathan, uh, Explosion. That's me." Nathan awkwardly pointed to his chest, then looked around. "Where's Murderface?"
"He's comin'. He was right behind me, actually. Maybe I should, eh, go…look for him…" Pickles back away slowly, then fled down the hallways. Once again, Nathan looked down at her awkwardly.
"What's your name, uh, little girl."
"Juliette," she said brightly. Sitting up in her small chair, she asked, "When can I see Toki?"
"Busy," he muttered quickly. "He's been a dick…I mean, meanie all week."
Juliette frowned. "But he is coming, right?"
"I think…I mean, I don't really know. I don't give a fuck about him." Mrs. Sarmansadandle gave him the evil eye.
Pickles, Murderface, and Skwisgaar all came up behind Nathan loudly. Pickles now had a shirt on, and his bottle was gone. Murderface was smirking, knife strangely bloody in his hand. Even Skwisgaar seemed oddly comfortable with a child there; his guitar was slung around his back and his hair was glistening with water having just exited the shower.
But where was Toki?
Juliette dejectedly handed the little box to Mr. Ofdensen, who accepted quietly and disappeared into the corridor behind the band. Skwisgaar scratched his head and stared down at the little girl.
"Ya know," started Pickles. "I bet yer da coolest girl at yer school, ya know, meetin' Dethklak and all…"
"I haven't been to school in months," she corrected quietly. Why hadn't Toki come to see her? It had been the only thing she'd asked! The rest of Dethklok was nice and all, but it was Toki she'd wanted to see!
"Oh." Pickles looked to Nathan for answers.
"Uh, you want some souvenirs?" He held up a t-shirt she'd never seen before. She shook her head and looked down to her lap. He looked at Skwisgaar.
"You plays the guitars, ja?" he tried.
"Not really," she admitted, still staring down at her lap. And as she gazed, she realized for the first time fully that she was going to die.
Dying…it sounded cool in Dethklok songs. It looked noble in movies. But when it really came down to it, she was frightened of it. Death was too final for her, it was unknown and unfamiliar. What would happen to her soul? Or what if she had no soul? What if she died, then an eternity and blankness sat before her? Or worse, what if she had hell awaiting her when her soul departed from her body? Wise for her age, Juliette couldn't stop thinking about it all. All her mother had told her was that good people go to heaven, and bad people go to hell. So what was it? Was she good, or was she bad?
"…Oh wait." Juliette had only heard the end of Nathan's sentence. She glanced up, then back down. After a few moments, she heard the band shuffle out of the room. She even heard Murderface mutter something about the smell of death irritating his nose.
"He'll be here soon," Mrs. Sarmansadandle promised. "He's probably just trying to look nice for you." She smiled reassuringly, but Juliette wouldn't accept reassurance. Toki wasn't coming, that she was sure of.
Rolling her wheelchair to the end of the room, she stared into the darkness of Mordhaus. How wonderful fame seemed, how great it sounded to meet Toki Wartooth! But he was nothing more than an uncaring jerk who didn't care about his fans, not even a dying little girl.
Juliette felt her will to live escape from her body through her mouth, immediately seeing darkness engulf her as vision failed her.
A/N
Wow, that was dark. I liked it though, hope you did too :D The very slightly hinted Skwisgaar/Toki slash is a precognition to my next piece, "My Savior". Actually, I'm writing this because I'm stuck on "Lost in Translation" and I'm not sure what to write. I mean, I have an idea, but some reviews would really help me keep going. Thanks for reading and don't forget to check out my other stuff! :D ~ Sanathia