Okay, so this is a one-shot I wrote cuz I'm board.

This story is in Drake's POV.

The song is called Tell Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today by Fall Out Boy (see? No S! Sorry I had to point that out. I can't stand it when people say fall out boys.)

Bold: flashbacks

Italics: song lyrics

Disclaimer: If I owned D&J would I be on fan fiction? No? Good answer.

Everyone knows my dad, Dylan, died in a car crash. A few select people know I was in that car with him.

Oh of course people like Mom and Megan (that's a give away) knew. Josh and Walter know too. Scottie knows because we have been friends since we were, like toddlers. But that's about it.

But no one, not mom, Megan, or anyone knows the other side of that story.

Light that smoke, yeah, one for giving up on me
And one just cause they'll kill you sooner than my expectations
To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar (to my favorite scar):
"I could have died with you"
I hope you choke on those words, that kiss, that bottle - confess (So bury me in memory)
Now ash yourself, yeah, out on the insides, said I loved you but I lied

Everyone thinks I was "Daddy's little boy", and that's why we got along so well. That is like 360 degrees different.

Truth is I was absolutely terrified of my own father. Behind closed doors, like when mom was at work and Megan was at daycare and I was "playing baseball" on a team I wasn't even enrolled on, I would have "lessons."

They weren't fun either. He'd hit me, then I try to hit him, then he'd hit me more. The number one rule was to never hit me where it would show. Number two was "I fell down the stairs" if I had a limp.

I only obeyed him because I knew he would hurt if I didn't. We always seemed to "love" each other, but I never loved him from the first time he laid a hand on me.

Let's play this game called "when you catch fire"
I wouldn't piss to put you out
Stop burning bridges and drive off of them
So I can forget about you

I still hate him to this day, so much I could break a brick with my bare hands if I even think about him.

Because today I still have to have that weight on my shoulders. I still can't tell anyone what happened when I was little. It's not because he'll hurt me now, it's because I don't want to admit to anyone that I could be beaten down by my own father.

The dreadful/happy day he died was May 6, 2000. I was just 9 years old.

Mom was taking night classes at a community college and 5 year old Megan was staying with Grandma. I couldn't go with Grandma though because I had another "baseball game." Supposedly I was in the championship.

Earlier that day (May 6th, 2000):

"Hey Scottie!" I said as I limped toward him.

"Drake, dude, why do you have another limp?" Scottie asked.

I would have thought he could have figured something out, he could never come to my house for play dates, but I guess he didn't.

AS I looked down towards my shoes I said, "If I tell you, do you promise no to tell anyone? Not anyone, not even your mom and dad?"

"Dude. I promise." Scottie replied.

I mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"What? Drake man, you gotta speak up."

"My dad hits me, okay?" I said. Still not looking at him.

"Whoa. Dude you got to tell someone. He could KILL you." Scottie replied. God. I thought. Why couldn't he be stupider?

My reply was "Nah man he never goes that far." Then I walked away.

end of flashback

So bury me in memory
His smile's your rope
So wrap it tight around your throat

I guess he found out I told some though. I was in my room playing with my Rescue heroes, when he stormed upstairs. He threw open my door, ran over to me and picked me up by my shirt.

He carried me al the way to his truck by my shirt, then he threw me in. When we sped away, he screamed at me. "I thought we agreed never to tell anyone about our fun!" Then he slapped me hard across the face.

I tried to deny it, but I just got slapped every time I tried. "Scotties Mom called. She wanted to let me know she was calling child services."

My jaw dropped. He had promised not to tell. I was fuming mad, but I guess my dad was madder, because he punched me in the face.

I was so angry I screamed at him "I THOUGHT WE WEREN'T GOING TO HIT WHERE IT SHOWED!" That was a bad move.

On the drive home
Joke about the kid you used to see
And his jealousy
Breaking hearts has never looked so cool
As when you wrap your car around a tree
Your makeup looks so great next to his teeth (his teeth)

My face hurt while he, surprisingly calmly, told me "it doesn't matter, because you're not going to see anyone again!"

My mind ran wild. My own father had just told me he was going to kill me. What is wrong with this picture? My thoughts then changed over to mom and Megan. What will they say when they find out I've been murdered?

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt something squeeze my neck. I looked down. My Father was choking me. Ohmygod. I didn't know what to do.

He looked over at me and said, "I'm so sorry it has come to this son. I really did love you. Maybe if you-"

All that I was thinking about was I HATE YOU and I CANT BREATHE. I knew I was dyeing.

Then right in the middle of his sentence, everything in my world came to a stop. We had gone over a cliff in the car. He hadn't been watching the road when he was talking to me. Then everything went black.

Let's play this game called "when you catch fire"
I wouldn't piss to put you out, no
Stop burning bridges and drive off of them
So I can forget about you

When I woke up I knew I was in the hospital. My mom rushed over to me. "Oh thank God Drake. I thought we'd lost you too!" She rambled on.

What caught my attention was "-I thought we'd lost you too." Too? Did that mean I was finally free of my tormenter?

"Oh Drake. Your Dad, he just, he didn't make it. I'm sorry." My mom said.

In my mind I was screaming "YES YES YES! I'm free!" I wasn't sad at all. I couldn't tell my mom though. So I acted all sad.

I had been really hurt in that accident. That only happened because my own Father wanted to kill me. I still haven't told anyone and I don't plan on it. Supposedly it was a miracle I survived.

At the Dylan's funeral:

Everyone was walking slowly past my dad's casket. When I got up to it, I bent down and whispered:

"You'll pay for what you did to me."

END.

Please R&R. Flames will be used to burn all schoolwork.