Disclaimer: I do not own The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy.

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So it was true. She stood there, frozen solid, still staring at the ground in front of her. There was no sound around her, just a whirl of confusion. Quietly, she walked over and sat on a park bench. Grim sat next to her.

He... wasn't real. John Corin wasn't real. A cold, emptiness began to sink through her. So much was suddenly twisting and tangling inside her; it was like being caught in a limbo of emotion. Shock, anger, fear, sadness-- her mind was spinning, and she didn't know what to feel. But mostly, she felt alone. Never in her life had she felt so completely alone.

I LOVED YOU, she wanted to scream. I LOVED YOU, AND LOOK WHERE IT GOT ME! YOU BETRAYED ME! YOU BETRAYED ME, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DID!!

Stop it, a little voice inside her was rebuking her. He never did anything to you. You're horrible to think something like that. Stop it.

But why should she? another voice said in nearly mocking tones. After all, he isn't real.

He wasn't real. That was the bottom line, wasn't it? This whole time... All the things she'd said and done. And for what? Had it all been for a dream? For a figment of her imagination? What had it all been for?

For a long time, she said nothing. She just sat there, trembling in the frigid night. Not daring to scream, to cry, to move. Just wanting it all to end, wanting terribly to wake up the next morning with that same feeling of hope. With her father still being real, and there, and alive. But he wasn't! He wasn't real!

And what was she supposed to do now? Stop loving him? She couldn't. Not in a million years.

"Grim," she said. Her voice shook with her body, a weak, hopeless sound. "I wrote him... so many letters."

"I know," he said.

"I... loved him..."

"Yes," Grim said. "I know."

"I loved him, Grim."

"I know, Mandy. I know."

She began to breathe harder, louder, until her breath was coming in quick, shuddering gasps.

"Wh... what... what am I... supposed to do... now that he's gone...?"

Her voice was a mess of rising and falling. "He was all I had...! And now he's gone!"

Her voice began to grow, as the full weight of the realization began to sink in. "And I'm never gonna meet him. I'm never gonna see him!" She began to shout. "And he's never... he's never gonna read these stupid, stupid letters! And I'll never be able to write him any of the stupid things again, anyway!"

She was yelling by now; she didn't even care anymore. Sleepy windows began to light up, but it didn't matter. Nothing did. Not anymore.

"And you know what else!?" she screamed. "He's never gonna love me!! He's never gonna miss me!! And he never... he never... he never even did miss me, ever, because he isn't real! He doesn't love me because he isn't real! He's NOT REAL!!"

Her words echoed across the dark buildings. Then the stillness resumed, all

but for the sounds of a young girl of about ten, shivering in the night and gasping for breath.

Grim rested a hand on her shoulder. She felt terribly numb all of a sudden.

"Take a deep breath," he said quietly. She did, wishing it would make her feel better. It didn't.

"I... I just want him back," she said. Her throat felt thick. She swallowed. She begged herself not to cry.

"I know," Grim said again. "I know."

They sat that way for a while. Then Grim felt her shivering and said, "You're going to get sick."

"Okay," she said after a moment. "Let's go home."

They walked together through the lonely neighborhoods, past darkened homes and lit streets. Neither of them said a word. Eventually, they arrived at Mandy's house. The lights were off, and her parents had gone to bed. Everyone else had gone home.

Mandy walked down the hall and into her room. She saw her open closet, and the corner of her brown suitcase poking out from under her bed.

"You were really gonna do it, weren't you?" she said to herself. She pulled her suitcase out from under her bed and opened it. Inside it, she had packed clothing, books, some money from her piggy bank. That was it. She wouldn't have been able to get by on any of that for more than a day. How could she have let herself think she'd had a chance?

She had tricked herself into believing it. She had tricked herself, just like she had tricked herself into believing in John. In fact, looking back, she had been keeping a relatively safe distance from reality for the past five, six years or so. All this trash about another father-- it was completely illogical. But she had let herself believe it. She felt so ashamed. Ashamed and betrayed.

She gave the suitcase a good kick and shoved it away. Then she took off her backpack and threw it across the room. She went and lay in her bed. She stared up at the ceiling. Who had she been trying to talk to all this time? Who had she thought she was kidding? She turned over, burying her face in her pillow.

"Idiot," she whispered to herself. "Idiot, Idiot, Idiot."