Me: Well hey there guys!*giggles nervously*
Danny Muse: *Thumps me on the head* YOU HAVEN'T UPDATED IN LITERATELY LIKE 9 MONTHS! WTF LAUREN!
Me: *holds hands up in mock surrender* I know, I know fellow readers... the temporary hiatus on this story seriously pissed a lot of you guys off. I got like 10 of you guys messaging me on when I was going to update, and believe me I was going to update sooner, but I got caught up in this thing called 'life'. In addition to that, I was going through some personal stuff along with some relationship issues. Although now I'm up and ready to continue this story where I left off. I know it was probably kinda frustrating for you guys, and I really appreciate you all holding out on me. I'm going to try and update this story at LEAST every two weeks, if not sooner. Hopefully I can keep that goal, but I have commitment issues... I is sorry D: Anyways, without further ado I present the next chappie :3
Danny Muse: FINALLY. I mean you left on a big enough cliffie. I wanna know if I die or not. Maybe you would've updated sooner if you didn't start obsessing over that wannabe me Jack Frost.
Me: Shut up and read the story Danny.
Danny Muse: *pouts*FINE.
Chapter 15
Normally, the cold never really bothers, me... well at least for the past few years it hasn't. Ever since I obtained my ice powers, even my ghost sense lacks the ability to make me shiver. I nearly gave my mother a heart attack last winter when she saw me walking around in knee deep snow, barefoot, wearing a tee-shirt and shorts. I still haven't heard the end of it. But now, I stand here on this chilly night and I shiver. I SHIVER. I do not shiver... maybe it is not the cold I shiver from though...
I look down at my right hand. Inside my hand is an object all too common in our world... a gun. An ecto-gun to be exact. I was going to simply use one of the human kind, but I know the damage that an ecto-gun can do to even humans, let alone ghosts. With any luck, a single shot to the temple will be all that it takes to eradicate me from this god forsaken world. So simple... the only thing that pains me is what this will do to my parents. Hopefully they never find out that it was their ghost weapon that killed their son. I know that would destroy them. I am not a fool, I know that they care about me on some level. After all, every parent has some level of love for their child... however small that love may be.
I turn my head to my left hand, clutching the notes I wrote all to quickly on a sheet of lined paper I ripped out of one of my notebooks at home. A total of 3 notes are written, one for Sam and Tucker, one for Jazz, and one for my parents...the only people who ever gave a damn about what happened to me. I sigh and tape the notes to the brick wall beside me... The scene of my suicide is only fitting. I stand in the alleyway where I had cut myself. I can still smell the faint rust of my own blood... I laugh at the irony of the situation before me.
The place where my loved ones believe I attempted to take my life, will be the scene where I actually do such. I can't help myself. I laugh louder, harder, oh god it almost hurts how hard I am laughing. I'm laughing, I'm laughing, I'm laughing...
I'm crying.
Am I really going to kill myself? After all the ghost battles I have been through, never in a thousand years would I imagine that my death would be by my own hands. I wonder if Clockwork knew about this... I laugh through my tears. Of coarse Clockwork knew about this. He knows everything Danny, don't you know that. Oh god I'm scared. Just do it Danny. But do I wanna? YES DANNY JUST BLOW YOUR WORTHLESS BRAINS OUT!
The tears are warm, and they kiss my lips like a sea of salt. I'm not sure when I loaded the small ecto-gun, but somehow the loaded pistol made it's way to my temple. I wonder... will it hurt? My breath catches in my throat. Where will I go when I die... will I go to heaven? But aren't ghosts work of the devil? That's what grandma always told dad when he went off about them... I don't want to go to hell. I've never been very religious, saying as both my parents are atheist, but I always felt as though there has to be something more out there...
I can barely hold the gun. I'm so scared. I have never seated myself so close to the portal between life and death... except when I got shocked by the Fenton portal... NO! Don't think about that Danny! That damn portal is the reason you have a fucking pistol to your head. I hate that portal. I hate ghosts. I hate myself. THAT'S IT I'M SO DONE!
My finger tightens on the trigger, but I can't force myself to pull it. Weak Danny you are so weak. Failure, you can't even kill yourself! You have let everybody down. JUST DO IT DANNY! DO SOMETHING RIGHT FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE AND KILL YOURSELF! I readjust my grip on the ecto-gun and take one last deep breath... here goes-
"Mr. Fenton?"
Oh shit.
I look up and I feel the color drain from my face. Mr. Lancer! What the hell is he doing here!? Oh god he's going to ruin everything! I scamper backwards into the shadows. Goawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygo awaygoaway... oh god he's coming closer! Don't see me please. Oh god...
"Mr. Fenton is that you? What are you doing out here... It's fairly late your parents will be wor-"
I watch Lancer's eyes go wide and his face go paler than my own. It's to be expected of course. What teacher walks around expecting to see a student of their's huddled up in an alleyway with a gun aimed at their head? I hope that he runs... maybe he'll pretend that he didn't see me? Lancer never liked me maybe he'll go away. Please just go away Lancer I'm almost free. Please go away. Please go away. Please go away.
"Mr. Fe-fenton wh-what are you doing with t-that?" Lancer stutters. I roll my eyes. What does it look like I'm doing?
"I'm watering flowers." I deadpan, trying to make light of the situation.
Lancer narrows his eyes in a plethora of emotions I do not care to analyze at the time. Finally his facial expression settles on a single emotion, one that surprises me, concern. He kneels down to eye level with me slowly, and I feel my grip on the gun loosen. What is he doing?
"What are you really doing with that Danny?"
My eyes widen and I find myself locking eye contact with the man. Did he just call me Danny? Who is this man and what has he done with Mr. Lancer. The shock of such a simple thing as using my very name has me fumbling for words, and by the faintest twitch of a smile, I can tell Lancer noticed. I am grateful however, that he chooses not to comment on the matter, and waits patiently for me to respond. I try to come up some other scenario to make the situation he stumbled across seem less serious, but I sigh when I come to the realization that there is no such miracle, and I decide it's time for lies to take a break.
"I'm trying to make the world a better place." I mumble as I break eye contact with Lancer.
I couldn't bear to look at the sight that I knew would lie before me. Pity. I never wanted pity, and that's why I HATE talking about my problems with people... because I'm a mess. I'm more of a mess then meatloaf day in the cafeteria. Lancer is silent for a minute, and I slowly realize that he is waiting for me to look back at him. I inwardly groan as I look up, and I almost drop the gun in surprise. There is not an ounce of pity on Lancer's expression, rather, understanding?
"Do you mind putting the gun down Danny? You can hold on to it, but can you unload it? I would like to talk..." Lancer asks calmly.
I give the man a look of disbelief. What right does this lunatic have to ask me to put down the only hope I have in the world. I tighten my grip on the weapon and my eyebrows furrow.
"WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO ASK ME TO PUT THE GUN DOWN? WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE TO TALK TO ME ABOUT? WHAT COULD YOU SAY THAT COULD CHANGE ANYTHING?" I demand. This man has no right to demand. I have the gun. I make the rules. I will kill myself, I will-
"Because 25 years ago I was in the same situation as you, huddled up in some alleyway, with a gun to my head." Lancer states calmly.
Wait...WHAT?