A/N: I am so stupid. On anonymous reviews, some have an email address below their name. I thought the email address was part of their name, so that's how I've been typing it! I am so sorry, I feel so embarrassed! But you can count on me to miss the obvious. Also the song Drake writes in this chapter is actually a ZOEgirl song called "Scream", it fit perfectly with this story so I decided to use it. In later chapters I might rewrite parts of it to match the scene.

Thank ya'll so much for the reviews! Without them, there would be no fifth chapter!
AlisonLydon
Nova-chan
Jamamamie05
Vaughnrocks
MexDev: Your review was really touching! I found tears in my eyes after reading it! Hopefully this chapter will be good, too!
Arwen
jhhhhjfjk89
lds chick
Saiba

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Drake & Josh. Then I could turn this story into an episode. But as you can tell, I do not own Drake & Josh. Oh well. I also don't own ZOEgirl or their music.

Scream – chapter five

Bruises heal fast, and so do black eyes. Ribs were another thing.

Drake slowly sat up from his bed. Days after the run-in with the gang his ribs had hurt a tiny bit, but now he couldn't move without gasping or biting his, now healed, lip to suppress a whimper. He couldn't believe he had actually thought the pain was horrible before. Drake was sure that he could now relate to someone who had been stabbed.

It had been a week since Josh moved out, and Drake was very lonely. A few weeks ago he would never have thought he would miss Josh, but he did. He had grown to like the Oprah obsessed dork.

The teen had just started walking across his room, when he heard his mom call for him.

"Coming, mom!" Drake exclaimed, cringing almost immediately. He should've learned by now that it hurt his ribs to talk, and even more so to yell.

Once he had reached the bottom step, he could see his whole family sitting down in the living room. Everyone stopped talking when they saw him walk in.

"Drake, my mother called, and she has offered to take Megan for the summer. And since I already have the next few weeks off at work, I thought I would go with Megan. Is that okay?"

'Leave me here with the two people who hate me? No, that's not okay!'

Instead of voicing his true thoughts, he put on a smile, and replied, "It's perfectly fine! I hope you two have a great time!" This caused Audrey to smile.

"Great! We're leaving tomorrow," She looked to the rest of her family, "I'm sorry I've told everyone this on such short notice, but she just called this morning."

"Audi, it's okay! I'll be happy to take care of the boys!" Walter said, sitting beside his wife.

Drake stood up slowly from where he sat and began walking back upstairs. No one seemed to notice him leaving; they were all busy talking about their plans for the next few weeks. Their plans without him. Maybe this was his mom's ideal family? Why did she need a son that reminded her of her ex-husband every time she looked at him?

Drake knew cuts healed fast. Just like bruises and black eyes. So once he got into the bathroom he did the first thing he had done years ago. He did the only thing that he knew would relieve him of all this pain. Both mentally and physically.

Grabbing the razor, he raised it up so he could see the blade. He loved how the light bounced off it, making it appear so deadly. His body longed for it; it had been a hopeless addiction at one time.

When he cut, he felt free. He felt happy. Maybe Josh would move back in if he was happy again?

Deep down he knew his mom would be upset. But he didn't care what she thought. He needed this. Nobody would care what was going on. Nobody knew how he felt. Nobody understood his pain. Sure, most people go through worse. But he felt like someone had grabbed a time-turner and thrown him back into the past, and now his world was falling to pieces. Everything was happening so fast! First his step-father was drinking, just like his own father had. His step-brother had left him, just like…

Drake shook his head. He couldn't go there. He couldn't release those memories after it had taken so long to bury them.

Glancing back at the razor in his right hand, Drake slowly lowered it to his arm, and then dragged the cool blade against his skin. He let out a sigh of relief, and sat down on the ground, his lips tightening as his ribs let off a sharp pain.

Drake looked down at his left arm that now was covered in blood. Why had he ever stopped this when he could feel this good? Placing the razor down, he let the pain in his arm overwhelm him. Now that was the only pain his mind knew.

He felt alive again. He felt like a real person, with real feelings; a concept many people tend to forget.

Standing up, he regretfully washed the blood off his arm and grabbed a first aid kit from the bathroom closet. Wrapping his forearm with bandages, he washed the blade off and threw it in the trash. He no longer felt the pain in his ribs; the blade had acted as a drug to his brain. It would appear to an outsider that he was high on something.

Feeling much happier now, he waltzed into his room, untroubled. This is what he missed, being so carefree. But he had never truly been carefree. His father had raised him like an adult. Instead of going to the movies or somewhere fun, Drake was beat until his father had had enough of him. Then he was physically thrown into his small room, and locked in. He remembered crying for hours on end, begging for his dad to let him out. This was how every Saturday and Sunday had been back then. His mother, at the time, worked very late hour during the weekends, and even during the week she sometimes had to work late. So she never paid much attention to him. And then when Megan was born everything got worse.

Not wanting to ruin his ecstasy, Drake stopped thinking about the past. He mentally shut it in a box and locked it away.

For once in the last few weeks his mind was clear. He could think straight again, and he wasn't about to let anyone or anything ruin that, including old memories. So he grabbed his jacket and jogged down the stairs.

"Mom, can I go for a drive?" She didn't answer him. Audrey was still focused on what was going to happen this summer; planning it all out. So Drake grabbed the keys to her car and slammed the front door.

The only person who showed any sign of knowing that Drake had just left was Josh.

000000000000000000

Driving was exhausting, fun, but exhausting. Definitely good for when you just want to think about life, or enjoy the day, which is exactly why Drake was driving. Unfortunately his 'happiness' was starting to wear off, so he turned around and started heading back home.

Glancing at the car clock, Drake cringed. His mom was going to kill him for being late!

'If she even cares.'

Drake froze. Where had that thought come from? Why had he been thinking like this lately? Of course his mom cared if he got back home in time for dinner.

'How do you know that? She didn't seem to care that you were leaving…'

Of course she did. She was just a little preoccupied.

'Keep telling yourself that. What about Josh? Think he cares about you, too? And Megan? Think she cares if you jump off a bridge?'

Drake pulled the car over into the emergency lane, and stopped. Leaning back in the seat, he closed his eyes.

What if Megan didn't care if he jumped off a bridge? Same with Josh! Wouldn't it be better if he just jumped off a bridge, and out of people's lives?

A loud honk from behind him made Drake jump. Looking into his rearview mirror he saw Walter's car…with Josh in it.

Josh got out of his dad's car, and walked over to his mom's.

"We need to talk," He said, while opening the door for Drake.

"No, no we don't. I have nothing to say, not that you'd care anyway." Drake mumbled the last part, but Josh heard it.

"Not that I'd care anyway….Drake, of course I'd care! You're my brother; I care very much what you have to say! I've been following you the entire time; I think that means I care."

"Listen Josh, I'm sorry if I'm hurting you by not telling you what's wrong. Just trust me when I say I'm fine," And at that Drake slammed the car door, and sped off.

Josh's shoulders' slumped, he had been sure Drake would tell him what's wrong.

Getting back into his own car, Josh slowly drove back home.

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He couldn't take it. Once again his ribs were hurting, and his mind was busy. Literally. He hated this.

It was well past ten, he knew his parents would be in their room. Peering over the bathroom counter, the light reflected off the used blade.

Pulling up his sleeve, he tore off the bandage that had been on his forearm. Of course the cuts weren't healed yet, but they would be soon.

Drake never liked cutting over the same areas, it made his spine tingle. So he raised his sleeve a bit more. He knew exactly where he was going to do it. Grabbing the razor from the trash can, he noted with pleasure that he was seconds away from being free again.

Suddenly the bathroom door was thrown open. Drake froze, dropping the razor in surprise, and managing to nick his arm. There stood Josh, eyes wide open, mouth agape.

"What in the hell are you doing!"

Drake was speechless. What does one say in a situation such as this? Sorry? His mouth moved, but no words came out.

Finally, he lowered his eyes, placing a hand over the small cut that was now bleeding.

"Are you insane! What did you think you were doing? Answer me!" Josh demanded. Drake had never seen his brother so upset.

When no answer came, Josh stepped forward causing Drake to back up in fear.

The problem was Drake was no longer seeing his kind step-brother; he was seeing his furious drunken father.

Tears filled his glazed eyes; as he found he could no longer back up without running into the wall. He was stuck; caged in like an animal.

His legs collapsed under him, and he curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth, with his head resting on his knees.

"Drake? Drake, what's wrong?" This voice wasn't his fathers. This voice was pleading for him to answer. His father's voice was much harsher, and he never pleaded for anything.

Josh sat beside his brother, and put an arm on his shoulder, surprised when the boy flinched at the contact.

"Drake, it's your brother. What's wrong? I'm sorry if I scared you," he said in a soothing voice hoping to calm Drake down.

And in the blink of an eye, Drake was…Drake again. He uncurled, and, with Josh's help, stood up.

"What just happened?" Josh asked, once he thought Drake had regained his composure.

"I-I don't know…"

"Okay, well, why are you-" Josh stopped talking and just stared at the blade that was now lying on the floor. Drake knew what he was talking about.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

Drake washed the small cut off, and grabbed more bandages from the first aid kit.

"Josh, just…leave it. I don't want to talk."

"Well, too bad, because I do. Why are you cutting yourself? I want to know what's going on!"

"You don't need to know what's going on! And a few cuts won't kill me!" Josh stared at Drake incredulously.

"That's how people DIE! By cutting themselves! It's suicide! What I want to know is why my brother, who I love very much, is doing this?"

Even though Drake would never admit it, what Josh had just said touched him. No one had ever said 'I love you' to him. Yeah, the girl's he went out with did and his mom did…but that was sort of expected. They never said it from their heart.

Leaning against the door frame, Drake looked into his brother's eyes.

"You wouldn't understand," Drake replied softly, and walked out the door.

Once Drake had gotten back to his room, he closed his door and locked it. Everything hurt. Again. When would this pain go away?

Grabbing his guitar, Drake sat on his bed and began quietly singing a song he had started to write earlier that day; it was far from being finished.

Does anybody know how I feel?
Sometimes I'm numb, sometimes I'm overcome.
Does anybody care what's going on?
Do I have to wear my scars like a badge on my arm?
For you to see me, I need release.

Do I have to scream for you to hear me?
Do I have to bleed for you to see me?
'Cause I grieve, you're not listening to me…
Do I need to scream?

Setting his guitar down, he turned off his lamp and laid down in his bed. He was so ashamed. Josh had actually seen him cutting, or about to anyway. Josh would never want to talk to him again. He'd probably tell Megan and mom, and then he'd be sent to an asylum and thrown into a padded cell for the rest of his life.

It was hard for Drake to go to sleep that night, his mind was racing, and he couldn't concentrate on falling asleep. Finally, hours later his eyes closed, and soft snores could be heard.