A/N: Alright, I finished this story on Tuesday, and sent it to my new and wonderful beta, DayDreamBeliever17. Then I edited it and posted it. Without an A/N. I don't know if any of you noticed that, but if you did, I am sorry. I have, as I have said, been working on this for a while, but I have special block were I get stuck on a word. So for that, I am sorry. Anyway, once I got over that, this came rather easily, and I finished. I'll try to update sooner next time.

Also, a shout out to Jayfire, who helped me with funeral stuff, since I have never been to one.

I hope you like it. And there is a question for you guys at the bottom. You kind of get to determine part of Chloe's fate, so to speak.

-OnlyAPrefectDisaster

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own DP nor do I own the lyrics at the start. They belong to their writer, band (who I accredit them to), and the label. I am not part of this extensive list.

P.S. If you find any grammar errors, or things that don't make sense, don't hesitate to tell me. I would really appreciate it.

"You can't breathe until you choke
You gotta laugh when you're the joke
There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
I know some things that you don't
I've done things that you won't
There's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home"

SIXX A.M. "Life is Beautiful"

We pull up to the funeral home a few hours early for the funeral. When I don't move, Aunt Lauren reaches across me and opens my door. "Chloe, we have to go in. There is no other way to do this." She then unclips my seat belt like I'm two, and gently pushes me outside. I plant my feet on the ground and straighten, looking up at the beautiful old building. Funny, I'd never think a place so lovely, so grand, would be home to something so… depressing.

Slowly, with Aunt Lauren at my side, I walk up the flight of ten stairs to get to the door. The doors were large and ornate, swirls and other embellishments twirled over their surface, begging to be touched. Mounted on each one was a large brass lion head door knocker, the ring clutched tightly in its jaws. Aunt Lauren ignores them and lightly raps on the dark mahogany surface. There is some scuffling and shuffling on the other side of the door, before it opens to reveal a man with a hooked nose and a large belly.

"Hello," He says, scrutinizing us before continuing, "How may I help you this fine morning?"

"I am Lauren Fellows and this is my niece, Chloe Saunders." My aunt tells him solemnly. "We are here to make sure everything is ready for my sister and her husband's funeral, which is to take place this afternoon."

He nods and holds the door open for us, his vulture-y features making his piercing gaze all the more menacing. It's a look that says 'If you're lying about who you are there will be serious consequences.' As he leads us down a long hall, all I can see was the false cheery-ness and the décor. Fancy pictures line the walls as the long dead people portrayed in them study us with scrutiny. The floor is thick with carpet that you could almost imagine suffocating in and the hall was so long the walls almost look like they were closing in to squish us. The lights are too bright, too happy for place where the dead are remembered. Some of the doors that accompanied the paintings and pictures on the walls were half open showing rooms full of people, whether sitting down at a funeral of their own, or working hustling about coffins and a kitchen preparing for the next funeral to happen.

We finally arrive at a small hall, like some of the others we saw with two closed caskets sitting on a raised platform in front. There is also a large photo of my parents that I took the day they left for Paris. My mother is half-awake, leaning on my father's shoulder as he looks down at her alert and loving. You can see both their faces and you can tell they weren't expecting to die the next day. They look happy and at peace. Something I am not. I can't help thinking that I should have died too. All those planes, all those chances to crash, to die. And one of the few times I hadn't been with them, they died. I should have been with them. I should have died too.

Suddenly I feel tired, and I have to sit down. There are chairs I didn't notice scattered about the room, in a semi-organized semi-circle. I lower myself down on one closest to the door, in case I can't stand this place anymore. Breathing slowly, I try to stop the pain tearing through my head, the slow unsteady pounding of my heart. I stay there until family and friends from all over the world start pouring in through the doors.

Aunt Lauren comes and gets me, leading me up to the chairs in the front of the hall. I take the seat beside her, and stare at the coffins on the stage. I know that there is nothing inside them, the plane crash being bad enough to disintegrate most of the people inside it. What was left at the site, my aunt had said, was unidentifiable, being so badly burned. Somehow, knowing my parents weren't in there didn't make me feel any better.

People went up to the podium, people sat down. It went on like that for nearly an hour. I couldn't hear a word that was said, nor could I see anything but the coffins. They sat there, closed and empty, taunting me, whispering that there should be three, no two on that pedestal thing. That I should not now what was going on. That I had failed them.

"Chloe. Chloe. Chloe, hon, look at me," Aunt Lauren is standing over me, her hand on my shoulder. I see double for a second, before my eyes focus and I look away from the coffins. "Chloe, we have to go outside. They're burying the coffins soon. We have to leave so they can take them." My aunt's voice is gentle and so is her hand as she helps me stand up and make my way to the door.

It's sunny outside. Bright and happy. It hurts my eyes to be out there and it hurts my feelings that world couldn't stop, even for a day, to turn desolate and brooding. We follow the group from the funeral to a plot of land shrouded by trees. There was one, wide hole in the ground, big enough for the two coffins. Slowly, we file around the hole, me staying towards the back near a tree. The funeral procession thing starts, and soon, my parents were in the ground, in a cement vault and covered with feet of dirt. As people say their last goodbyes, I run. I go through the trees and off the plot, just trying to get away. Finally, I come to a wrought iron fence that blocked me from the world. I slump against the fence and black out.

XxXxXxXxXxX

(A/N: I was going to end it here… but I made you guys wait so here. Have more.)

I wake up, just as someone puts me down onto the seat in my aunts car. The door closes and I open my eyes. I see my aunt talking to a large figure with black hair. He turns to leave, and looks in the window. He has green eyes. He sees I'm awake and wave. I lift my hand to wave back, but it's too heavy. I black out once again.

A/N: Here, I am again, in the begging of the end. What'd you think? Also, new penname! Like it? Despise it? Whatever. Onto more serious matters. Um… Spoiler alert! Chloe isn't going to stay in the penthouse forever. So. Normal two story, Duplex, or Boarding School? Think of this as a special challenge to me.

-OnlyAPerfectDisaster