Disclaimer: I wish I wish I owned Danny Phantom! Desiree: -turns me into Butch Hartman- AHHHHHHHHH! CHANGE ME BACK CHANGE ME BACK! -is changed back-

Summary: Maddie's life is changed after reading her son's suicide letter.

Rating: T

Inspiration: My suicidal thoughts are up and raging. Almost entirely based on my feelings.

Pairings: Mentions of DxS

Warnings: Character Death, Depressed Danny, Near Cussing, Danny being OOC

Other Notes: Still grounded, but I snuck on to post this crappy little oneshot. Actually, my punishment's been extended to March, but I'll type up at school and give to Toshiyuki to post for me. It's another one of my little emo suicidal fanfictions I write in order to relieve some of the sucidal pain and depression I have to keep locked up since nobody in real life really gives a crap.

The coffee in her cup was steaming as it hit the cold winter hair. Maddie's hand was shaking as she attempted to drink it in a desperate attempt to calm her frazzled nerves. Tear stained her cheeks as she watch the gurney slowly wheel out Danny. The women stopped pushing as Maddie came over.

His hair was still midnight black and resting against his pale cheeks. She gently pushed the hair out of his eyes, staring straight up at the sky and let a small choking sob escape her tight throat at the dried blood staining his pale forhead, surrounding a single bullet hole that instantly killed him. Sniffing loudly, she rubbed his cold, pale cheeks as the women gave her a sad smile.

"I'm sorry for your loss," the woman said softly before pulling the white sheet over his head and continuing on their way to the funeral home van.

Maddie gulped half the coffee down as she watched, blinking back tears as the van with her son's body drove away. She wouldn't see him again till the funeral.

"Maddie? Baby?" Jack called out from the front door. "It's beginning to snow, and you've been standing there for a half hour."

Already?

Maddie checked her watch. Yup, the funeral home came and picked up Danny's body almost a half hour ago.

"Are you going to be okay?" Jack asked, stepping down the front steps to comfort his wife. She just stared in the direction the van drove off in. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Should I ask Vlad if he could plan the funeral?"

"No," she said, her voice a choked whisper. "I can do it."

"You sure?" he asked with concern.

Maddie sniffed, wiping her eyes and nodding before following him into the house.

"I'm going to go see if Danny left a note," Maddie told her husband as she walked up the stairs. Jack didn't reply, just took out the phonebook to start funeral plans.

Maddie almost couldn't open her son's stickered door. She stared at it for a good ten minutes, taking the time to read each and every sticker before finally opening the door.

It was a mess.

Normally, this would have sent Maddie into Cleaning-Mom-Mode, but instead she just stepped over a pile of laundry, walked through a wave of CDs, papers, pencils, trash, textbooks and more towards his bed. His bed was neatly made, but his pillow and upper sheets supported a large blood stain. She sat down next to it when a paper caught her eye. A few actually.

She leaned over and picked them off the nightstand and took a deep breath before reading them.

Dear Mom or Dad or Mom & Dad,

I honestly don't care who's reading this, or if this will ever be read. Knowing my life, nobody will probably discover my body until the maggot infestation or the smell. Whichever gets on your nerves first, like normal.

You're probably wondering why I'm dead. Well, here's the reasons.

1. I'm a failure. Now I know you're gonna say "Oh Danny! No you're not! You're smart!" but seriously, shut UP. You're my parents, it's your JOB to say that! Just stand up and admit it. I'm a failure. I can't pass classes, get to classes on time, get straight As or do anything like Jazz. Compared to Jazz, I'm a horrible student.

2. I have an 'additude'. Or as I call it, defending myself. So yeah, whenever I try to defend myself against your totally true statements like "Stop being a smartass" or "You're annoying" or "God can you do ANYTHING right?", I'm apparently having an 'additude' which you're apparently tired of dealing with. Play back the conversations guys and really listen. I'm just DEFENDING myself. Haven't you taught me to stand up for what I believe in? Well now you're setting a bad example and now I really believe all the horrible things you say about me. Thanks a lot.

3. Wow...you care? Oh my god you must care or you must want to know why my room smells bad/andor/has a bunch of maggots in it and happened to find this letter. I honestly have my money on the second one guys. When was the last time you told me that you loved me instead of it being a boring "Oh my god I have to say it" reply? The last time you acknowledged something good I did instead of screaming at me over something bad. Yeah, I was late to class but I got an A on that history project I worked hard on. Why don't you notice or care about me anymore?

4. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me? What a bull piece of advice! The person who came up with that should just never speak again! I mean honestly! Emotional damage hurts worse than physical damage. Not like anybody's noticed either. It hurts more when the kids at school call me fat, stupid, ugly, dumb, weak, Fenturd, Fentonia and more than when I'm left in a locker all day or given bruises. The bruises heal and people let me out of the locker, but those words stay in my mind forever and reappear when you guys yell at me again.

5. I'm not Superman, I'm Danny Phantom. Yeah, that's right. I'm not afraid to write this down because you probably by now realized that Danny Fenton wrote this, so you just tossed it into the trash from boredom, since I obviously don't matter, before tackling the smell/andor maggot issue. I'm Spiderman, not Superman. Superman can do everything, but Spiderman makes mistakes and has real life problems going on. Superman has everything going great, but I'm like Spiderman cause I can't get the girl I love, my best friend hates me and my life is falling apart because I keep making stupid mistakes. Know why? Because I may be a half-ghost superhero, but I'm still human.

I'm confused and nobody will help me. I try to get help, but it results in judgement and more emotional and verbal abuse. I trust nobody with my problems now. Why does cutting make me feel better? How can I stop cutting? Why can't my closest friends tell that I'm hurt and I need help, even if I openly say it? Why do I feel this way? Why can't I be Superman instead of Spiderman?

Wow, you're still reading this? Amazing. Sorry I wasted your time, and I apologize for the huge mess my blood will make. Some perixode's supposed to get that out, and since you're too wrapped up in your own world to notice my death until the smell or maggots come, I've heard that some Febreeze and a good cleaning should help that out.

From the world's biggest annoyance,

Danny

Maddie began to sob heavily the second the finished the letter. She put it back down and immediately began to cry harder after replaying the last few months of his life.

Danny was right.