I Didn't Know
I can't believe I just did that.
I knelt by the body, red and green blood staining my gloves as I looked over him. It formed wavy designs on the black asphalt, like some kind of sick Christmas painting. I chuckled. It was almost Christmas. It would have been his fifteenth. I guess he'll only know fourteen.
I could see the gash in his chest from my shot was disturbingly deep, even though the film of tears in my eyes. I didn't even want to begin to think of how deep it actually was. I guess you could called me cold-blooded, ruthless even heartless, to have murdered my own son. Under normal circumstances, I would have agreed with you whole heartedly- but this isn't a normal circumstance. You see, I didn't know.
I didn't know why he came home so late battered and bruised claiming he fell. I should have known no fall would cause that much damage. I asked no questions when he came down the next day completely unscathed. I should have. I figured it was some weird teenage thing when he could go days without me seeing him eat, and still be full of energy. It puzzled me as to why he would wake up exhausted as though he just ran a marathon.
I honestly didn't know a lot of things.
Take why all the ghost weapons kept honing in on him or why he would refuse to go down to the lab when we were testing new ones. Or why he always looked so sick when we talked so enthusiastically about dissecting a ghost, molecule by pathetic molecule. Neither did I know why he always had strange burns after touching our weapons. I tried them on myself. Nothing happened to me.
I didn't know why he was always late for school even if he left the house on time. Or why he left for the bathroom so frequently and never came back. At first I was scared. What was happening to my little boy? He didn't use to be like this. I talked, persuaded, threatened, and pleaded with him. He would always just shake his head and look at me with the saddest blue eyes.
"You have no Idea Mom." He would say.
He was right.
I chuckled to myself as I knelt by his body, his blue eyes glazed and unseeing. He called me Mom. Moms weren't supposed to do this. They were supposed to love their children, not-not- kill them. But you see, I didn't know.
I had absolutely no idea that my son, Daniel James Fenton was Danny Phantom. Even with all the seemingly obvious clues, I didn't know. But I do know one thing. I, Madeline Dorothy Fenton, his mother, just killed him.
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Dear fans,
Just a little something to show my return.
Vanessa1288
