I've never written for Drake and Josh before, and I'm not sure if this show still popular; it won the Kid's Choice award though. Regardless, I went ahead to write this story. I had actually planned for a little more than a year – since I first watched the show. I slept on it; I dreamt about it, my fingers itched to write it. So I don't care if nobody's reading this! I love Drake and Josh! And I love drama just as much!
(Is there anyone who thinks that Megan really deserves to have something bad happen to her? What with doing all those bad things to people all the time?)
Disclaimer: I never got the chance to touch the property papers of Drake and Josh. So there.
It was supposed to be a simple prank. Just a simple, normal prank.
Fine, it wasn't simple, and it wasn't exactly innocent either, but it meant no serious harm. I just wanted to rattle him. It wasn't supposed to backfire.
But it did.
And now, before my eyes, lay the body of my beloved brother. Lying on the floor, motionless, still, lifeless.
My mind was completely numb. I collapsed on my knees in shock. It can't have gone wrong! It can't have! I kept thinking. It simply can't! I'm an evil genius!
I gingerly crawled through the debris towards the motionless body lying on the littered floor, vaguely aware that I too was covered with dust and burns. The deep red gash on my arm burned terribly, and something warm and sticky trickled down the length of my arm from it, slowly. I was shaking violently and uncontrollably; simply moving sapped me of every ounce of strength I had left, for my body simply did not want to cooperate. Time seemed to slow down – or was it speeding up? I did not know. Neither did I care. All I cared about was getting to the charred and bloodied body seven paces in front of me.
Time seemed to stop, in fact. The deathly silence was overwhelming. I could here my own ragged breathing, and thunderous heartbeat. Very slowly, still on all fours, I shifted myself forward. A nail dug into and scratched my bare knee, but I felt no pain. I kept going. I persisted, pulling myself forward inch by inch, until I could feel the hem of his shirt sleeve at the tips of my fingers. With vehement strength, I clenched my fist around the fabric and hoisted myself into a position such that I was kneeling beside and looking over the body. The body of my elder brother, no less.
"Drake," I whispered, voice quavering in fear. "Drake, wake up." As I spoke, I shook him gently, hoping upon hope he would wake.
He did not wake.
A brick slid down my throat into the pit of my stomach. My heartbeat accelerated, pumping dread through my veins like venom. Drake did not wake up. Oh, no...
"Drake," I said again, this time barely suppressing a sob, and more desperate. "Drake, wake up! Drake? Drake?"
Still he did not wake. Not even a flutter of an eye. Not even a sigh of life. Nothing.
I began to cry.
"Drake! Drake! Please, wake up! Drake!" I wailed, shaking him more vigorously, tears bursting the dams and pouring down my cheeks without stop. "Drake! No, Drake! Wake up! Wake up!"
Nothing. No movement. Total silence.
"Oh no, Drake! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please, wake up already! I'm sorry!"
Nothing still.
"D-d-don't leave me like th-this! I'm s-sorry Drake! Drake? DRAKE?!"
Then I heard a sound. A most dreadful sound, one that instantly struck terror in my heart. It was the death rattle, the horrible gurgling sound at the back of my brother's throat. In the silence of the house, it was amplified and made even more terrible. The echoes of death rebounded off the walls, confirming his hour of death as well as the permanence of my guilt. Drake was a goner. I knew it despite my denial.
"NO! NO! D-DON'T DIE! DON'T DIE!! I L-LOVE YOU!!"
Those last three words vibrated through the air, cutting across through the eerie silence like a jet of hope. And yet, when it came back from the walls, it became twisted, like the sinister voice of Fate. It taunted me. It mocked me. Why would I, who loved my brother, kill him?
Kill him...kill him...Did I just kill him? The true severity of my crime crashed upon my shoulders with the force of a falling anvil. It dawned on me at last – I murdered my brother.
A great tumult of emotions tore through me, threatening to rip me apart. Coldness slipped down my neck and tore at my lungs. Crying openly, completely speechless, I could only placate the unspeakably excruciating pain and guilt by futilely and weakly shaking the corpse before me. The gashes on my arm and knee suddenly sent a stabbing pain down the entire limbs.
Did Drake hear my apology? Was this all a joke, a counter-prank, just to get back at me? If it was, it taught me a lesson good and proper. Come on! I'm only a nine-year-old girl! I'm not even able to earn money for myself, let alone kill someone! This has to be a dream. That's right, this is a dream. I'll just pinch myself and the next second, I'm going to be in bed, screaming and crying but unharmed...
And the door swung wide open. Josh came in. I realized that this was no dream. Any fantasies, hopes, even surreal wishes that it was went out of the window within a second. I stared at Josh with a mixture of fright, horror and apprehension, as he beheld the sight of a charred corpse lying in a pool of blood and covered with dust and bits of debris. I, too, was going to die. For my sin. For the sin of killing my beloved brother.
My poor, sweet, precious, irreplaceable elder brother...
"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Josh bellowed. His voice was suddenly far more terrifying than I have ever heard from him, and an almost evil look of pure rage took over his facial features like a twisted, tortured mask.
What did you do...What have I done...What did I do...I know what I did...I did it...
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!
I screamed.
And then I broke down and embraced my elder brother, wrapping my arms around him, never ever wanting to let go. All mental faculties, all vestiges of composure and sanity fled from my grief-stricken mind. All I knew then was pain, guilt, self-hatred, despair. I wanted to join him. I deserved to join him. In fact, I should take his place; he will live, and I will suffer the death I truly deserve. I abused our blood relation. I abused our sibling ties. I abused his love – that which is not obvious, but always present and taken for granted. I took him and his love for granted. How could I? Not even Josh could ever be as close to me as Drake. He was my biological brother, the sibling I grew up with.
I screamed, hard. It was a scream filled with every single emotion I could possibly feel at that moment. I tore at my hair. I held on to the body like a snake would its prey, unwilling to let go. I cried blood when all tears were used up. I went deaf; I could no longer hear anything other than the sound of my own pathetic voice.
"Megan! Let go! Let go of him! We're gonna take him to the hospital!"
"NO! NO! DRAKE! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! COME BACK! COME BACK!!"
"It's no use, Megan! Let go, now!"
" DRAKE! I LOVE YOU! I'M SORRY!! I'M SORRY! WAKE UP PLEASE!!"
"LOOK! WHY DON'T YOU TRY TO HELP INSTEAD OF WHINING LIKE A USELESS IDIOT?!"
"COME BACK, DRAKE! COME BACK! I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!!"
"MEGAN!!"
"NOOOOO!! NO! NO! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"
No one could pry me away from my brother. Definitely not Josh. It took six men to finally pull me away from Drake and subdue me. I struggled like crazy to fight these evil medics, for taking my brother away from me. I fought them, I wanted to kill them, those evil men...
Are they any bit as evil as yourself? Who killed Drake, Megan?
"H-hey! Wait! I think the girl's in shock!" a man was yelling.
"Subdue her, and let's get her to hospital too! Quickly, before she hurts herself!" another man shouted.
"Hold still, Megan! Hold still!" And I felt Josh's hands gripping my arms like claws of a crab, wrestling me down and keeping my hands away from my hair and anything I could hit. I screamed myself hoarse, until pain tore my throat asunder, and it literally bled afresh. I needed to be with Drake; why didn't any of those morons see that? I should be there beside him!
Then a needle pierced my arm. The pain of the needle hardly registered in my brain, what with all the excruciating fires already incinerating my insides like wildfire. But the drug quickly took effect, and a new force began to subdue me, this one far stronger than six men. I could no longer struggle. I surrendered at last. Better to let darkness take me, than live on in guilt and sorrow.
And I'll finally join Drake...
The darkness came. It was welcoming...almost inviting. It soothed the pain...
I closed my eyes, and went limp. Somewhere above me, Josh was sobbing; all of the sudden, I could hear him...
Then silence and darkness swamped me completely, descending upon me like a shroud. My last whisper before death was infinitesimal, imperceptible.
"Forgive me, Drake. Forgive me. I...love...you..."
--
I didn't know how old Megan was, although at some time, they mentioned she was eleven-years-old. So I estimated that the age of Megan in this story would be about nine. I was thinking of the very young Miranda Cosgrove, by the way; as she was in Season one.
I'll be expecting some flames from Miranda fans right about now. Yes, I love Miranda too, but I really hate the character (Megan) that she plays, and it's high time she got punished. Still, if anyone has problems with visualizing a suffering Miranda Cosgrove (Megan), feel free to vent – indeed, I deserve it. (Repeat: I love Miranda too.)
Should I continue? Or should this be a one-shot? I'm still undecided, but nevertheless, I am satisfied about the fact that after a year's planning, this is finally off my chest. (By the way, if it made you cry, tell me. I love to hear these things.) Amuse-toi bien! Merci! :)
Terrorking Tragedian