Disclaimer: I don't own DN

Update 6/20/13: I had something similar to this here from 2009, but I decided that I'd rewrite it because, honestly, even my update was dated and I still get steady traffic on this story.

I wrote this story five years ago. I was eleven when I started it and a month away from turning twelve when I ended it. My age shows and, quite frankly, I consider this story to be really embarrassing. I'm sixteen at the time of writing this update, seventeen in about a month, and my writing has improved A LOT (although I've still got a long way to go) since the summer of 2008. Hell, I'm going to be a senior in high school and when I wrote this I was nervous about going into middle school, if that gives you some perspective here.

So, why don't I take it down? There are a couple of reasons. This is the first multi-chaptered story, fan fiction or not, that I ever finished and I am fiercely protective of it. In the fifteen days (give or take) it took me to write this I: grew tremendously as both a writer and a consumer of media, made a ton of friends, grew more confident in my abilities both online and in real life, and had a ridiculous amount of fun.

I think that the fun I was having comes through in my writing here and it's also, imo, a cute little fic to knock back in about an hour if you're bored and want to make fun of some bad fanfiction.

If you stuck through this and are still interested, I sincerely hope that you have a good time with this fic, whether you appreciate it as is or poke fun at it along the way.

Have a really, really good time!

Memorial

Chapter One

Familiar

The fans sat in the crowded room, and the nearly almost quiet bookstore was in an uproar. Did you hear? The author of Silent Roses and Fallen Sanity is coming today! How could you not? Even if you weren't coming you had to know, the posters were every where. It was the first publicity the town had gotten since Judge Judy stopped at the local Wal-Mart. I mean, current number one selling authors don't normally stop in places like this!

But Wilhelmina Marie Stewart was different. For one, her name was not Willie Marie Stewart. Her true name remained a mystery. Well, to her fans it did. To her family and friends it was as every day as the sky. Or the toilet. Whichever you prefer. Anyways, Willie was different. She always liked to stop at the small towns, much to her editor, Sara's, distaste. Besides, the little town was only two hours away from the big lonely house Willie called home.

Well, it wasn't lonely, in a sense. Willie had an adopted two year old daughter, Opal, and there was Eleanor. Eleanor, or Ella, was, in a sense, Willie's maid. She was also much like a nanny, and more importantly, Willie's best friend. And Willie couldn't wait to get this tour over, anyway. She dreaded spending another minute Sara. Sara, of course, was a friend. But with Sara it was like having a nagging, annoying, neat freak friend. Who didn't have a sense of humor. And never smiled. And wore way too much makeup.

Willie was behind the scenes, in a sense, right now, getting ready for the signing. Her blond hair was pulled in a tight bun, and she wore a clean, white blouse and a navy blue skirt, as well as heels. Sara made it clear that Willie needed makeup, but still she only wore light tones that supported her ocean-blue eyes. If it were up to her, she would come with hair drooped over a makeup-less face, sweat pants and a t-shirt, maybe with a unicorn on it. Yeah. A unicorn.

"Hey Sara," Willie greeted her editor. Sara had her light brown hair was in a bun mirroring Willies, and she wore a green pantsuit. Her face was caked with makeup, almost enough to detract from the natural beauty of her almost-amber eyes.

"Scarlett," Sara used Willie's real name. Sara always insisted on real names, which was one of the number one reasons Willie's illustrator and photographer hated her. Ace was only a nickname, Sara insisted, Eugene Paul was a real name.

"Almost time, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

Willie- Scarlett stood up from her seat in front of the mirror and grabbed her trusty pen. They better have coffee here, was all that ran through her mind.

FLASHBACK

The nine year old rested her head on the smelly old pillow. She hated being sick. Especially at Wammy's. Well, it's not like she had been sick anywhere else, but you get the idea. She ran her fingers through her short blond hair. She knew she looked terrible, with her pink pajamas hanging off her skeletal frame. She knew she was a sickly child. Actually, the pajamas weren't even hers. She hoped Linda wouldn't get sick.

Iris had puked on hers. She woke up with a fever of 103, sweating and coughing. She got to skip classes today, but it didn't matter because today was Friday, anyway. She wished she had someone to talk to. Linda was at classes and Linda was pretty much her only friend here. Sure, she was friendly with other kids, but they weren't her friend. Linda was pretty much the same way.

Oh well, Iris thought. Maybe I should get to sleep. Got to get better. Iris? What a weird name. She thought. Of course, Iris was only a nickname. Everybody had nicknames. Only Wammy's called them 'aliases'. Linda was a nickname. Her real name was Helena Cambridge. Iris thought it was a pretty real name. Much prettier than Scarlett Faraday.

Slowly, Iris was closing her blue eyes, surrendering to sleep. Sleep makes better. She kept not thinking. If she thought that, then she would never sleep. Slowly… slowly… fading… goodnight. She closed her eyes, and began to sleep until…

"OWW!" Something landed on her back. Iris felt the sudden urge to puke, but held it down when she saw what it was.

A boy. Or, at least, she thought it was a boy. He-she-it had shoulder length blond hair and wore all black. Wait, Iris recognized this idiot. He was a year younger than her, and his name was Mello. Or, well, alias. He was more or less a bully. But a smart one at that. In fact he was number two in the house, even better than the elder kids. The only other kid was a six year old named Near.

"Watch where you're landing!" she hissed at him. He hadn't even noticed her and stared at her with dead eyes.

"Watch where you're laying," he mirrored her tone.

"Brat…" she whispered under her breath, when an idea caught up to her, "Hey, you should be in class!"

"So should you!"

"I'm sick!" She hacked, as if on cue.

"Well, I'm going to the bathroom!"

"Through the lounge?"

"I took a detour."

Iris rolled her eyes. She didn't want to deal with this idiot right now. "Well I won't stop you, just go!" She snarled and turned away from him. "Hey, kid," he asked.

"WHAT?!"

"What's your name?"

"Iris. Now just go pee already,"

END FLASHBACK

There were more people than Scarlett thought possible for such a small town. Oh well, never underestimate things.

The signing went by smoothly, which Scarlett enjoyed very much. It was only 2 pm, and it looked like she would be getting home before 6, when Scarlett spotted something. It was a man. Sure, there were a lot of men at the signing, but this guy… looked… familiar… .

Scarlett always had been irrational. Like her life-long fear of poodles, for instance. This man… dressed in black… hiding from view… scared her. She immediately dismissed it. He was just a fan, right? Yeah, he was just a fan. Not a crazed, psycho stalker fan, just a very peculiar fan. But he was… so… familiar….