When Black and White Turn to Gray
AN: Well here's my debut. Here's to the leap of faith. Hopefully I don't end up splattered on the rocks below. This is a one shot, and actually not that dark for being me. Rated T for violence, death and suicide.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Danny Phantom and never will unless I manage to find Desiree.
Blood. There was so much blood.
I can see it every time I close my eyes. I can't seem to forget.
Blood, trickled down his brow, dropped into his eyes mixing with his tears. Blood ran in tiny rivers down his neck dampening his clothes. Blood was caked in his eyebrows and was stored in his ears spilling over. Blood streamed down his cheeks and glistened sickly in his raven hair. Blood dripped from his chin and splattered on my guilty hands. Blood spread like a red rose, blossoming on his white shirt. Blood, sticky and adhesive, glued him to the ground, combined with the growing pool of glowing green. Blood gushed wetly in a fountain from your mouth as he died.
His glazed empty blue eyes bored holes in my skull and I burned in self-inflicted fires of hell as I writhed with the knowledge of what I had done. I, Valerie Gray had killed him. My triumph of moments before for murdering Danny Phantom was subverted to something twisted and terrible as the two characters that in my head had been so radically different were pushed suddenly, forcefully together. All the exhilarating chases were transformed to something darker and hate filled. Every fight took on special meaning and my plight for vengeance was made petty and insignificant before this truth. I had killed a true hero. Someone I knew and held close to my heart. One who had never truly tried to hurt me even when my intentions were so misguided and wrong. I had killed my one-time crush Danny Fenton.
That night I had stumbled aimlessly, toting a fresh, still warm, corpse and pondering my options. Even in my self- hate, I still couldn't bring myself to tell anyone. I had ended up hiding the body in a secret place, one only I knew of. And I watched. After a few days, searches began as Danny was declared a run- away. But as months passed, It became more than obvious that the youngest Fenton was missing, and eventually, presumed dead.
The remaining Fentons and Danny's two loser friends, Tucker Foley and Sam Manson attended a closed coffin funeral. They wept openly for the empty redwood box. Jazz buried with 'him' a star chart and an odd looking boomerang. Sam added a Fenton thermos and Tucker placed his treasured PDA in the grave. For once Mr. and Mrs. Manson had nothing bad to say about the elder Fenton's and joined their daughter in wearing black as well as the Foleys.
Mr. and Mrs. Fenton stopped wearing their Hazmat suits all together, as well as their crazy ghost inventions. Mrs. Fenton became a martial arts instructor and it was well attended whether out of pity or not it was hard to tell. I didn't go. I couldn't face her sleep deprived, hopeless eyes. Mr. Fenton became one of those 'cubicle office workers' to everyone's surprise and was seldom ever seen laughing and each word carried the weight of minutes of thought. It was spooky. It was said that he burned every one of his inventions, action figures and orange jumpsuits. I for one believed it. Jazz moved as far away from Amity as she could for college without leaving the country. She was trying to outrun the past and seemed to be succeeding if the televised reports of her success were and marker. I envied her.
As for Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley, Sam abandoned her Goth persona, venturing into brighter primary colors though she still detested pink. Her parents were actually more worried than overjoyed for a change. Tucker, on the other hand, withdrew into his technological world even more, rarely saying more than a few words to anyone but Sam. Mrs. Foley was worried that her son would follow Danny into oblivion. Sam and Tuck whom took over the ghost hunting from the Fentons, showed surprising finesse for it and good teamwork, though sadness shone in their eyes.
I was a train wreck. I was unable to hold a steady job for any length of time. Guilt and secrets hollowed me out. I dropped out of Casper High, unable to look at Sam or Tucker. My future was down the drain anyways, but I hated to see the light of disappointment in my father's eyes. He was the only thing I had left to live for. But on December 10th he died. It was sudden. And with my final foundation gone, I shattered like so much glass. That's why I'm here today, on my bed with a gun, note explaining everything beside me. Time to die.
I close my eyes, raising the cold barrel of my gun to my temple, and for the first time in a year, peace envelopes me.
Click. Click.
Bang.
AN: Sorry for the depressing story, the name for which actually comes from a song. It's a great song! Until next time! Peace!