Welcome! This is being typed up on 2/6/06, the official one-month anniversary of my birthday! I kick ass, man! I'm getting my braces off really soon! I was supposed to get them off around Christmas, but we missed 2 appointments! YES! And if I still have to keep them on…I'm taking the colors black and neon green (I'm hinting at MimM here).

DISCLAIMER: I don't own DP or MCR.

RATED: T for violence, self-harm, and language.

Chapter 11

"Cemetery Drive"

He wasn't ready for it. This was his last moment before doing what he had to do. The last thing he knew that would prepare him for his decision. Clutching and pulling at his hair, Danny Fenton finally dressed decently, getting out of the clothes that he had been in for so long. The same clothes his wife, Star, had rejected. The same clothes with red liquid streaking down it.

He finally threw them out and put on a tuxedo. The same one Star couldn't stand to see him in. Nonetheless, he ran out the door desperately, making a turn. Within three minutes he was standing at the cemetery gates bathed in moonlight. When he was young, they looked eerie. Now, they looked familiar and comforting.

The memories flooding him, he kicked open the gates, grunting. He ran to the place he had so many times. By now, the path had been run in. He stood still in the graves, captured in a trance. All of a sudden, the memories could no longer suppress themselves and burst their boundaries.

Sam's grave was placed next to Jazz's. Sam's tombstone said 1993—2011. Danny mentally added, February 3rd, 1993 to February 2nd, 2011. Jazz's said 1991—2017. Danny added again, January 6th, 1991 to April 14th, 2017.

Although it had been two years since, he still could remember the day as if it literally just happened. From the door to the bottle to the bathroom. All of it.

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The people mingled, the people chatted, they ate, they danced. Why it was at a mausoleum, though, was a question to be answered. Either way, the Fentons had attended, Danny and Jazz against their will. Neither were up to going to a funeral home where corpses where placed in the walls. Especially after Sam…

But somehow, someway, Danny managed to get hold of some cognac. Aged for twenty years. Jazz protested, but was forced to watch her brother get drunk. Soon enough, he was neither his old self, nor his new self. He was…crazy. He laughed at everything, and his face shone. But the thing was, the whole feeling was artificial. All the happiness, the joy, the loss of limb control…all a joke alcohol played on his mind. Jazz was forced to watch her brother act like a retard.

She sighed and went into the bathroom. Morons. She knew she shouldn't, but…the temptation…her mother was gone, and they were under the rule of Jack. Jack…without Maddie, he was crazy, abusive…he even smoked pot. He was an alcoholic. He was ruthless…and Jazz was governed by this tyrant. She wanted so badly to get away from him, from Danny's outbreaks, from all of this tragedy.

And without even knowing it, her hand reached for the medicine cabinet. Aspirin. After taking all of the pills—fourteen—at once, she waited, staring at her tired, pale reflection. That was the last thing she saw. She had blacked out before she hit the floor.

When they found her on the bathroom floor, Danny was still there, under the impression she was constipated. He had switched to tequila, then to vodka, then to sake. As the team came to investigate, the found the man on the floor helplessly, hiccupping and giggling.

"Where is Jazmine Fenton?" one man asked slowly.

"In the bathroom, constipated," he replied, just as slowly. The men raised their eyes and knocked down the door. They found Jazz on the ground, unconscious.

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Danny never forgave himself for being drunk when it happened. The last thing he could do…was comfort her out of doing it.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he heard a leaf crunch behind him. He didn't bother asking, but did so in his mind. He still got a response.

"Hey, Danny," said a cracking voice gloomily. Female. Valerie. She was staring at Tucker's grave, just next to Jazz's. Danny's emotions raged out of control. She had done it! She had cost Tucker his whole life!

"Valerie!" he murmured angrily. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm—I'm paying my respects," she replied with dignity.

"You are the one who sent Tucker six feet under!"

"How do you know?"

"How do I know? How do I know? I was there when it happened, you little—!"

"Hey!" she yelled accusingly.

"You are the reason for this," he screamed, showing her his wrists. They were, by then, not even scarred, but red. Just red. Valerie was silent.

"I'm not happy about it either," she whispered. "It wasn't on purpose."

Danny didn't answer. He only looked at her expectantly.

"I liked him. A lot." Valerie turned to his grave. Danny sighed.

"Yeah. I liked Sam more than you could ever imagine."

The second Valerie had her back turned, Danny turned his hand intangible and stuck it into the dirt. He knew it wouldn't go in six feet, but he swore he could feel Sam's hand touch his. It was soft, tender, moisturized. He grabbed on a bit longer, but soon stood back up in fear that Valerie was watching.

"What are we going to do?" he sighed miserably. Valerie shook her head.

"I don't know. Join them?"

"I promised Sam. She told me not to do what she did."

"Yeah, I suppose so." Another sigh. "You do know we're slowly dying, right?" Danny nodded.

"And we won't stop crying for help. One way or another."

A long silence followed. The night air seemed to grow thick around them and the silence was now a liquid that suffocated them. At last, Danny whispered:

"Jazz used pills."

"What?"

"Jazz. She used pills that day."

"What do you mean?"

"We were at a party at a mausoleum. I don't know why. But I got hopelessly drunk. For almost an entire day. A day in which Jazz took fourteen aspirin pills and knocked herself out. By the time they found her, I was still drunk. She was on the bathroom floor, the bottle in her hand. I'll never forgive myself for it."

Valerie snatched a glance at her friend. She noticed he was looking at the horizon. Brought to her mind was an image of the ghost boy from before, staring into the night sky when he didn't budge or fight.

Either way, soon everyone was going to be in the same mentality as they were. And then…then the world would fall apart.

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LYRICS TO CEMETERY DRIVE:

This night. Walk the dead. In a solitary style and crash the cemetery gates. In the dress your husband hates. Way down. Mark the grave. Where the searchlights find us drinking by the mausoleum door. And they found you on the bathroom floor. I miss you so far. And the collision of your kiss that made it so hard. Back home. Off the run. Singing songs that make you slit your wrists. It isn't that much fun. Staring down a loaded gun. So I won't stop dying. Won't stop lying. If I want I'll keep on crying. Did you get what you deserve? Is this what you always want me for? I miss you.

Chapter 11

Chapter 12: urgh…

These are rough drafts. Obviously, you're reading the revised and edited version. I'm not going to do much…usually just spruce up a few concepts and replace a few words here and there, along with sentence structure, but I won't be doing elegant sentences. They don't really work for this piece. All of my work here so far is put up the second it's done. No editing or anything. It's just my style to write like it's a final draft.

Last chapter up next! OH YAH! My favorite one! But now: a shower and bed. But the 7th is a half-day, so I got some time. I just have a test, some English work to do, and…yah, that's 'bout it. That, and practice was cancelled for me.