Thorns (Would the Flowers Ever Bloom Again?)
Sequel to The Seduction (in the "M" rated section)
A Drake & Josh fan-fic created for the older fan (ages 18 and over)
A short story by Alison Lydon
Lead characters:
Drake Parker & Megan Parker
Disclaimer: I do not own the original "D&J" characters.
No copyright infringement is intended.
Synopsis: Drake Parker was inadvertently involved in a mind-control faux religious cult by meeting a so-called understanding charismatic man named Cameron DePalma. He believed this man to be a compassionate soul who understood the recent turmoil in his family, which came from being pressured to find "a job" after graduating from high school and not having the college prospects of his brother Josh. That chance meeting resulted in the unfortunate massacre of his family, with the exception of Megan who luckily wasn't home, but had the unfortunate reality of discovering the carnage the next day. Despite being drugged and brainwashed like the other cult members, Drake was sentenced to life in prison for his part in what the media tagged the Marigold Drive Murders. Now herein lies the aftermath.
Chapter 1
Rage
Van Nuys High School
…a few years later
…Mr. Halifax' 9th grade Advanced English class
The sun was shining through the huge row of windows on the side wall of classroom 302. Only those born into
the concept of seasonal weather would not take the sunshine for granted as most of the bored class was
doing. All she saw was the blackness in her own mind, as she rested her head on the L-shaped half desk. She
couldn't deal with Romeo and Juliet today, besides they all perished in the end.
"Miss Parker," Mr. Halifax an overweight, middle-aged man who wanted to take early retirement lightly tapped
her shoulder, "Are we disturbing you?"
He really wanted to shake her, but did not need to feel the wrath of being a litigious society.
Shit. Did she fall asleep in class? You think she was D—no, that horrible piece of filth that she still had to refer
to as her brother.
"Sorry."
Megan put her hands over mouth to stop a yawn while her classmates found the latest amusing. Yep, laughs,
whispers, and stares were the norms for a few years now.
"Don't let it happen again or I will send you to see Ms. Tomlin."
Was that lame excuse of a threat supposed to mean something? She was in Ms. Tomlin's office plenty of times.
They all thought she was crazy, because HE was crazy. No one saw her as the individual, the fourteen year old
young woman with straight dark hair and intense eyes. They saw her as part of the "you're the sister of the
crazy kid who joined that crazy cult and they butchered your family." They didn't see her as her own person.
Living with Aunt Barbara and Uncle Lester (whom she called Uncle Fester from The Addams Family behind his
back) was a regimented existence at best. Eat supper at six, do your chores, do your homework, ignore the
press, and forget that anything ever happened.
She didn't want her family (her real family of Audrey, Walter, and even Josh) to not be proud of her. Wherever
they were, they had to be aware. So, she took all the crap. Her Aunt's meanness, at least she didn't hit, but
her verbal taunts was more than she could take, her Uncle's goofy hobby of cataloging all the TV shows that
ever aired on the cable movie channel. He kept his worthless findings in a big blue binder. Megan was always a
good student and had no trouble fooling the teachers. Except for today when she fell asleep in English class.
There was no best friend forever to talk to, only her Internet pal Jessica from Denver, who seemed to be
paying more attention to her quarterback of the football team boyfriend and less interested in online chatting.
There was something she had to do. It was something that she never could get away with because her age
was not right, but that wasn't going to be a factor any more. Megan didn't want to cause a scene, she just
wanted to bide her time. So she could do this "thing" her way.
The bell rang and she folded the corner over of the page in her textbook and closed it.
She didn't have a cell phone anymore because her Aunt Barbara didn't believe anyone under twenty-one
should have one, but that was okay. Megan didn't mind the challenge. She just started the only job she could
get due to her age and that was to deliver the newspaper. It wasn't glamorous, the walks didn't do her good,
and she hated that her guardians didn't like the idea. However, she was able to buy a pre-paid cell phone.
They were the greatest invention since sliced bread.
"Before you leave, Miss Parker, here's your last test back. You may do it over."
And why would she do that? She got an 85%. Wasn't that good enough?
It was on only a stupid compare and contrast essay on generic versus name brand cola. It certainly wasn't
anything of importance.
"Thank you."
She was not doing the paper over, but she had more important things to do than to tell a teacher who used
bullying tactics where he could stick it.
Her haven was the balcony of the high school auditorium. No one ever came in there unless there was
something scheduled. She sat in one of the wooden seats and took out her phone. Secret compartments in
book bags were also wonderful inventions.
Damn.
She got voicemail.
"Hello, Dave. This is Megan. I'll be ready in two weeks. Leave a message and I'll call you back when I am able.
Bye."
She sighed. Now it was time to be a "good girl" and deliver The San Diego Union-Tribune and pretend to be a
functioning member of society when there was only one thing she wanted to do.
A few weeks later:
The shit was going to hit the fan, but it needed to be done. Like donating your organs to help others for the
greater good it had to be done.
The one thing she did while her Aunt and Uncle went to the budget movieplex was pick the most vibrant thing
she could out of her closet. She wanted to wear her best outfit, which at the time was a pink v-neck sweater
with a white blouse underneath. They were kind with the pointy collars and cuffs.
The skirt was denim and knee length and she settled on her grown-up version of Mary Jane shoes with a
modern shape and chunky heel. Even though she normally kept her make-up simple, today she wanted to
doll-up her face as if she was going to the Academy Awards.
She kept her hair down and only wore the faintest trace of floral spray body mist. Megan made sure to grab
her dark denim jacket and headed out the front door before her guardians would come home and ask a million
questions about "why are you dressed up?" and most importantly, "where are you going all dressed up like
that?"
Unfortunately others would know of this plan, but it was still no one's business but her own.
Number 859213
Megan knew Dave Kirkpatrick wasn't her friend, nor would he be an acquaintance. He also had an agenda, but
in her mind that was acceptable. They would both be getting what they wanted out of this deal.
She was cold and was glad to have her jean jacket on. The waiting room was sterile and had no life in it and it
wasn't the least bit ironic.
"Just so you know," Megan twisted her pinky ring, "You only get one chance to do what you want, Dave, so
you better be quick."
He was a man in his mid thirties with an early receding hairline who was grossed out over the liquid in the
styrofoam cup that was being passed off as coffee.
The kid was annoying, but without her, he couldn't be here. There was no choice but to put up with all of her
entitled demands.
Megan didn't think she'd be nervous, but on the inside her body trembled as soon as the door was opened
and the words, "…if you would please follow me." were spoken.
She didn't care about Dave; she didn't care about her guardians, or even herself for that matter.
There was only one goal and she had to hide her fear as every lock echoed and the noise felt like it was inside
her head.
If this had happened forty years ago would she be allowed to set foot in a solitary confinement cell with a hack
journalist with a video camera for the TV show Eye on San Diego.
There were more things that Megan did not care about. She didn't care that according to everyone from desk
cop to psychiatrist that Drake has not spoken a word since his arrest, she did not care about how frail he
looked, gone were his teen idol-esque looks, she didn't have any feelings towards this inexcusable reason for
a human and she wanted everyone in America to know it. Drake was hunched in a corner of his cell with his
head facing the wall, as he wore the standard orange uniform.
Megan tuned everything out. She had this moment brewing in her head during her night at the Best Western
in San Diego the morning she discovered the useless slaughter of her family.
Knowing that she couldn't violate any laws, because heaven forbid, she bash his skull against the wall until he
lied in a pool of his own blood, all she could do was keep her cool and push out the words of regrettable
defiance.
"You better look at me, you piece of shit."
To her surprise he did turn to face her, but kept his eyes on the floor.
"I said LOOK AT ME!"
So much for keeping her composure as she fought the urge to grab him by the hair and force her killer of a
brother to look into her eyes.
"I HATE YOU! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR TAKING MY MOM AWAY! JUST WHEN WE WERE STARTING TO BOND ON
A FEMALE LEVEL. YOU TOOK DAD AWAY! BEFORE I COULD TRULY LEARN TO ACCEPT WALTER AS MY OWN
FATHER. YOU TOOK JOSH AWAY! BEFORE I COULD APPRECIATE HAVING A STEP BROTHER! BY MAKING HIM THINK
STABBING HIMSELF WOULD GIVE YOU A LESSER SENTENCE IN HERE, WHEN HE SHOULD HAVE CUT YOU UP INTO
LITTLE PIECES AND THREW YOUR RANDOM PARTS IN THE PACIFIC OCEAN! I FUCKING HATE YOU AND NOTHING
WOULD MAKE ME HAPPIER THAN TO SEE YOU PUT IN THE GENERAL PRISON POPULATION SO THE AUTHORITIES
CAN TURN A BLIND EYE AS SOMEONE TAKES YOUR LIFE AWAY! LIKE YOU DID EVERYONE ELSE'S! CAMERON
DEPALMA IS A DEMON, BUT YOU HAD A CHOICE! YOU DID NOT HAVE TO FOLLOW SATAN'S COMMANDS! YOU ARE
NOT MY BROTHER AND YOU HAVEN'T BEEN FOR A VERY LONG TIME! YOUR NAME IS NOT DRAKE! DRAKE PARKER
WOULD NEVER DO WHAT YOU DID! YOU ARE SIMPLY A NUMBER--859213. I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS AND I
HOPE YOU DIE IN MISERY! YOU SICK PSYCHO SON OF A BITCH!"
The tears were flowing when she didn't want them to, especially on camera, but that still didn't stop her from
doing the only thing she could and not get arrested for and that was to spit on his person until the uniformed
people quietly ushered her and Dave out of the cell.
For some it was must see TV. For Megan Parker it was her place in a never-ending Hell.
Portion of an article in the San Diego Union-Tribune that was printed on the very same day as Megan's prison
visit.
Do Cult Members Deserve a Second Chance at Life?
by: Doug J. Porter, PH.D
Reprinted from Psychology Today
....The recent Cameron DePalma case shed an interesting light on the current phenomenon about the "locking them
up and throw away the key" mentality. Charles Kane and John Reynolds weren't given the opportunity to have a
second chance. Lucille Holmes is most likely to never wake up from her five year coma. If upon being physically
sober Barbara Jean Hopkins still praises the faux prophet from her mental institution, then it poses an interesting
question regarding what should be done with Drake Parker?
Parker has withdrawn into himself and has not spoken a word since his arrest. Do we as a society come to the
realization that the cult members are abused in all possible scenarios? Due to the narcissistic behavior of DePalma
we are aware of the daily drugging and abuse of his victims that were documented on many audio and video tapes
that were found at the house of horrors on Nine Shady Grove Road.
All of this on mere possibility and not fact that if Hopkins were hypothetically released from prison that she would kill
in the name of her "Lord" and wind up back behind bars. It is ignorance personified to assume that Parker would do
the same, when it is quite obvious that the young man who only wanted to be a rock star with the requisite
"hot girls" on his arms was never a killer in the first place.
This is a man according to Alice Hafer, former English teacher at Belleview High School who had Parker for a student
who resigned not long after the tragedy, "Yes, he was a typical slacker, who only cared about guitars and girls. But,
he would never go along with the slaughter of his family. It was a disaster for everyone involved."
Parker needs rehabilitation not a life sentence in prison.
He deserves a second chance at freedom.
If society doesn't step up to the plate, then we are no better than DePalma who took that basic human right away
from all of those kids in the first place.
Not aware of the faint sound of his own breathing, Drake put his head back against the rigid wall and traced
the random nothingness of the gray brick design with his trembling fingers desperately waiting for the
disparaging sound to come to a complete stop.