A/N: Wow, an update. I meant to update ages ago, but I didn't for some reason. I am really craving an apple scroll.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters that are owned by Jhonen Vasquez. Because I'm not him, bless his soul. But I do own any character's you don't recognize, such as my original character.

Warning: Wow. I don't know. This contains violence and swearing... And probably some other things that I haven't thought of just yet.

'Johnny, please don't make me go to school! Please!' Danielle pleaded as Johnny grabbed his car keys from atop one of the crates that dotted about the living room. The weekend passed without any hassles- occasionally the small girl even forgot that her foster father had even slaughtered a woman in broad daylight at her school- but now that it was Monday, the small girl was beginning to feel lightheaded at the prospect at returning to the school.

'I'm sorry Danielle, but it's in my duty.' Johnny replied, motioning for her to go out the front door.

Danielle clutched Lola to her chest, tears pouring down her cheeks. 'But you killed Richard's mum! Everybody saw it, an- and I have t- to go to school n- now... People are gonna hate me because of you!'

Placing a hand to his head, Johnny stopped in his steps. 'Look, Danielle, if people took into notice what happened, the police would have come, right?'

Danielle sniffed loudly behind him, and let out a small 'Yes'.

Turning around, Johnny opened the door to his house, and looked over his shoulder at her. 'And now police came to take me away, right?'

'... Yes.'

'So clearly nobody cares. I'm certain Richard is upset that his mother is dead, and I'm certain he still knows that somebody murdered her, but other than that I doubt he knows anything more.'

Scuffling towards Johnny, Lola tight against her chest, Danielle stared up at him. 'Why?'

'I don't know, now get in the car, you have to go to school.' Johnny replied shortly, shooing her out the door.

True to his word, nobody at the school even remembered what happened on Friday, apart that the Family Day was a success- or so they believed. Danielle was simply shocked that nobody could recall the bloody murder- if she looked carefully down at the carpet she could still see some of the blood that stained the floor covering. But nobody spoke about it, and indeed Richard did know his mother was gone; he did indeed know that she was murdered, but he didn't even blink when Danielle approached him and gave him some of her seven-year-old sympathy.

And although it scared the small girl that Johnny could get away with such a terrible deed, it excited her. Nobody recalled that she was there, that she watched it happen. If Johnny could get away with it, could she? She must be able to; it must have passed on to her. If Johnny could get away with breaking the law, a rule that was punishable by being locked up in a seven year long detention, then surely she could get away with doing something wrong.

To test out her theory that she too could get away with doing something wrong, during art, she dropped her small tin of red paint on top of Gregory O'Brien's head. Although she said it was an accident (sticking burning liquid and utensil's down a strangers throat could be considered an accident, right?), she was forced to stay behind at lunch and write 'I will not pour paint on my friend's heads' fifty times on the blackboard. Danielle's protests that Gregory O'Brien was not her friend was not taken into consideration.

Is she crazy yet?

THE HELL? Meat?

Hey, Lola, baby.

Lola crawled her way out from under Danielle's sweater in her school bag. Sitting atop the lavender wool was Reverend Meat, his paint-on smile looking all the more malicious. Although they were shoved inside a pigeonhole, the bag zipped up tight, light still filtered in through the teeth of the zipper.

'Meat, what the hell are you doing here?' the Barbie doll hissed between her bright pink lips. The burger doll crawled over to her, causing a few things to fall down inside the bag. Cursing, Lola pulled herself up better, her legs sticking out in front of her.

'Nothing, I just came here on business. Where is our favourite little girl, anyway?'

'She's writing lines on the blackboard,' Lola replied shortly, turning her head with a small squeak. 'Not that I think it's any of your business.'

'Look, baby, darlin', I'm only looking out for Johnny's best interest.'

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

Meat moved as best he could over the sweater so that he could sit next to the doll. 'Well, Lola, if Danielle interferes with the Wall Monster's plans... Well, you know what happened last time, don't you?'

'The world had to reset itself and all sorts of havoc was wreaked across the globe, and unfortunately you came into existence.'

'Precisely, except I already existed, and next time, don't use such a sarcastic tone.'

Lola just snorted. Taking advantage of her silence, Meat continued.

'And the thing is, if Danielle knocks some sense into everyone's favourite homicidal maniac, than who knows what'll happen to us! We'll quite possibly cease to exist!' Although Meat was doing quite a good façade of keeping his cool, Lola sensed his fear. If he ceased to exist, then he failed his master. Like a priest serving God, Meat was a servant to the Wall Monster. And that was the way he liked it.

Letting out a sigh, Lola refrained from looking at him. 'So why does Danielle have to go and become insane?'

'Well, not only would you have done your job, our master would become more powerful!'

'Danielle isn't a waste lock like Johnny, Meat. If she were, it would be obvious. She's a normal seven-year-old girl that happens to have found herself in a rather sticky situation. I don't even know why I was assigned to her!'

Meat's perpetual grin seemed to grow wider as he gazed at the Barbie. 'Now that would be fun to find out, wouldn't it?'

Lola just huffed, and decided upon a change of subject. 'How did you get inside the bag without Danielle finding out?'

'What Danielle knows can't her' the Burger toy replied slyly.

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

'Danielle doesn't know about me. Thus, she can't see me. She knows Johnny's insane,' he quickly added, seeing Lola was about to interrupt. 'But she thinks it's all in his head. I am out of his head. She's never seen me. She's never heard me. I can get away with anything and everything. I can make her see things walk around and she'd think it was a ghost or some other supernatural gibberish. Until she knows I'm around she'll never know.'

Cocking her head, Lola shifted in her seat. 'If that's true, and she doesn't know you exist...' she murmured, drifting off. 'She can see me, though.'

Confused, Meat shook his head. 'What?'

'Well, she can see me. She can't see you even though Johnny's insane. If she can see me, and I'm a voice... Well, maybe she's more insane then we thought...'

The house was eerily quiet. His head was eerily quiet. And it frightened him. Not even the screams of the clown strapped up in one of his torture devices could lift Johnny's mood. At first it was a relief- nothing to disrupt his day. But after a while it became annoying. How did the sane cope without someone talking to them when they were all alone? It wasn't natural to him. Shaking his head, Johnny slipped out of the basement, leaving the clown to wail to the empty, echoing walls.

Danielle was going to be home soon. He hadn't left the house early enough to pick her up from school being as he had been so engrossed with trying to fill his mind with the screams of the damned that he had lost all track of time.

Time. The repetition of timetables, no time to take time out of one's schedule, rushing from meeting to meeting. Duties to be done, and the ticking and the tocking of a clock upon the wall. The appointments to be kept, the knowledge that if one was to break the repeating events of ones day that everything could fall apart.

The indefinite continued progress of existence, events, et cetera, in past, present and future regarded as a whole. Or so it said in the dictionary.

When did time ever matter to him? Days had molded into nothingness, and he just existed. He never had had a meaning in life. And Danielle, with just one cry from the corner of a room in his basement had thrown everything that he knew as real out with window. It was as if he had awoken from a long sleep. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, knowing that someone now relied on him for even the basic of needs. And yet he couldn't even keep the most basic of schedules- take her to school at eight o'clock, pick her up at three o'clock. He wasn't a father, he couldn't be. He could try, but he would fail badly.

His thoughts were interrupted as Danielle entered the house, and turned to him.

'Johnny?' she asked quietly, cocking her head at him. Snapping out of his trance, he looked down at her.

'Yes?'

'You were right; nobody remembered.' She told him. She gave a feeble smile, and turned to go to her room. As she passed through, into the corridor, a small, plastic figure rolled out of her backpack and on to the ground. Rushing over to pick it up, thinking it was one of her toys that she had gotten with her meal at McMeaties (she had forced him to go there after school one day so she could get the Deluxe Happy Meal with extra Happy). Johnny picked it up, only to have Reverend Meat's screeching voice entered his head.

'Oh, fuck!' he hissed loudly. He stared down at the toy, gritting his teeth together.

Aha, thought you got rid of me, eh, old buddy? 'fraid not, you're stuck with me for a long time, bub.

'What is it?' Danielle asked, turning around. Seeing the Burger toy, she frowned, and walked over to the man. She looked as if she was about to spoke, but instead she shook her head, as if a fly were buzzing around near her ear. Raising a brow at Johnny, she began to turn around, glancing at Meat oddly, before returning to finding her room.

Johnny watched as Danielle walked down the corridor, and turned back to Meat.

'Where'd you go off to?' he growled, retreating to the living room.

Just went for a vacation in Danielle's bag, Meat replied, before going silent.

A/N: Love writing seven-year-olds. When I was seven my best friend and I used to colour pictures in with our blood.