You all spoil me too much. I felt so amazing when I saw how many people liked the story so far! Hopefully you like this chapter!

INNER DEMONS

CHAPTER THREE:

The Remembered and the Forgotten

"You're not dead, but not alive either. You're just a ghost with a beating heart."

- Anonymous.

A bang. A big, terrible bang causes everything to fall apart in front the quiet, blue-eyed boy. A shatter, a clank, a scream soon follows. Time seems to slow down and he just runs, throwing all caution to the wind, towards the source of everything. Another scream breaks through the far too quiet air once more. Running as fast as his rather short legs allow, he unconsciously taps into some of his ghost powers to increase his speed. Soon but not soon enough he's kneeling in front of the fallen woman with a panic expression clear as crystals. The too pale, too weak Maddie Fenton winces as her fingers press themselves against the bullet wound clear on her stomach, crimson-colored blood seeping through her black gloved fingers and into the rapidly growing puddle that lays underneath her black-and-teal jumpsuited body.

All at once; she intakes a sharp breath before it escapes in a puff of air from her pale lips, her amethyst-colored eyes widen, and Danny Fenton's left clutching her hand like it's the last link between him and his mother.

Someone – most likely the one who had fired the bullet – drops something with a loud thump, sounds of shoes scrapping against the harsh floor soon following. Nothing manages to catch the young boy's attention. Not even the soft hand on his shoulder causes him to turn his eyes away from his mother's body for more than a millisecond. But somehow, someway, he knows exactly who's behind him and that if he turns his head he may regret it later.

The rough sound of an officer clearing his throat fills the bitter air, "Son, you have to let go of her."

"What?" The reply is too fast, almost as fast as the harsh baby-blue eyes that met the officer's in a glare match, "I don't have to let go, you want me to. But I don't want to."

"She has to get to the hospital," a female officer with blond hair says gently, carefully walking up to the boy and sitting down next to him cautiously, "They have to see if she's okay or-"

"-Or dead?" Danny cuts her off harshly before exhaling shakily, "I know."

A ghost of a smile tugs the blonde's pink-painted lips as she places a hand on his hand carefully, being careful not to flinch at the feel of his too cold hand. Making sure to look him in the eyes, she says, "Good, now, sweetie, can you please let go of her?" she misses the bright flash of green in Danny's blue eyes as he looks the other way with eyes clenched so tightly it hurt.

Swallowing the bile raising up his throat, he glances at the officers from the corner of his eye, "You don't understand," he mumbles quietly under his breath, this causes the blonde to look at him curiously as she leans in closer.

"I don't understand what?" she asks.

Green flashes once again in his eyes as the hand on his shoulder tightens their hold, "That she's dead – that my mom is dead."

"Danny, you know that's not true."

"But it is."

The female officer gives her colleague a sharp look, he nods before muttering something into his walkie-talkie that was located on his vest. She casts her gaze once again on Danny as she stands up to her full height, straightens her suit, and glances over her shoulder carefully. Smiling a bit forcefully she suddenly snarls in his direction, a clear look in her own eyes that Danny recognizes all too easily; she hates him. Numbness overtakes his body as he casts his eyes back at his mother's too pale face – a face that should've been smiling at him as she rants on about how ghosts are echoes. The thought of their earlier conversation causes him to tense ever so slightly, the female officer notices this.

"It's all your fault, Phantom," she spits the name like it was venom on her tongue, harsh eyes glaring at him, "You could've stopped this, but you didn't, and look what happened-" she motions towards the smashed windows and dripping blood around the two of them, the flickering of police lights highlighted every crack in the building. It was too much, far too much for the teenager to handle at the moment. Already he felt as though even the tickle of a feather may set him off and break the fragile, confident, mask that protects him and this women – with her glaring eyes and hateful look – seems to not be worried about anything at the moment as she crossing her arms over her chest, "-you did all of this and now your poor mother had to pay the price."

Pay the price, the words click into place in his mind, as Danny stands up slowly, his eyes wide in disbelief. Licking dry lips he eyes the officer up and down, taking in anything that seems to be out of place, "What did you just say?" he asks.

"Nothing that concerns you," she shrugs, a small smirk crossing her lips, "Don't you recognize me, Danny?" she laughs as her form shifts into a familiar one that seems to resemble a silhouette with glowing purple eyes. Almost automatically, a puff of blue air escapes Danny's lips in wisps of blue.

Suddenly everything fades.

The crimson-colored blood, the bright police sirens, and the amethyst-colored eyes of Maddie Fenton. It all slowly fades from their bright colors into a dull gray scale. A buzzing makes itself known in Danny's ears as his vision blurs and comes back all at once in a never-ending pattern.

"Aw, leaving me already?"

"-Danny?"

Said ghost-boy turns in confusion, blue eyes looking for the source of the new voice, face scrunching up in confusion. No one but the two of them – not counting the bodies that littered the floor like toys in a pre-school – were in the room; no more than two hearts beating, no more than two shadows on the wooden floor boards, no more than who pairs of lungs inhaling and exhaling the bitter air.

No one else was here.

The voice repeats itself, louder, "Danny, wake up."

Giving the dark room a once over for the second time, he turns back to look at the police woman only to find nothing in her place. Confusion crosses his face. Everything seems to feel foreign somehow in a way that leaves the teenager numb in the never ending blizzard of emotions. The ghost of a smile crosses his pale lips at the irony in the sentence.

"Wake up."

A flash, a flicker, a shock happens all at once and the world grows darker and darker as the Danny loses consciousness but not before the voice once again speaks; "Mom's looking for you!"

...

Things go felt as though a piece of you just blew away in the wind – gone, forgotten, whisked away by the ever moving clock. Anything would've felt better than this – this pain, this curse – the dulling beats of a heart slowing down would've been better than this. Oh, god, it hurt so much that no words could express the torment of terror coursing throughout her brain, shattering and breaking everything in its wake. By now the pain had dulled into something stranger, more complexing, as the female scientist lays on the comforter of her bed. None of this could be real. None of it was possible. None of it clicks in her head. But it was.

And that's what was making her go mad.

Softly in her ear the quiet but audible sounds of a clock ticking catches her attention almost far too easily for her to be comfortable.

Taking a deep breath that results in a migraine; she carefully sits up, swings her legs over the side of her bed, and stands up. Swaying slightly, Maddie slips on her standard boots and runs her gloved fingers through her short hair in an attempt to smooth it down; she winces once she feels a knot before gently untangling it with her fingers. Never once noticing the bits of brown, dried blood that seems to be scattered through her brown hair. Bits that seems to blend in like a ghost.

Her bedroom door creaks loudly as she opens it and steps into the hall. It was still daytime; around lunchtime, according to her Fenton Watch.

Walking down stairs she notices a sight that causes her to smile slightly.

Danny seems to have fallen asleep on the couch with one arm falling off the chair, the other carelessly covering his eyes. Next to him, Jazz sat reading a thick book mostly likely about scientific theories of some kind, her feet laying on the coffee table that was currently covered in blueprints – courtesy of Jack, who was tinkering with a new invention with a screwdriver, his tongue peeking out slightly in concentration.

Pulling up her blue hood and goggles, she sits next to Jack on the floor, grabbing one of the-oh-so-many blueprints. Eyeing it quickly, she glances at the invention curiously, "Jack, honey, what's this?" she asks her husband, her words quickly grabbing his attention.

"This-" Jack motions energetically, "-is the Fenton Specter Surveillance System!"

"Specter Surveillance System? Isn't that a bit too long?" Maddie inquires, glancing down at the blueprints once more.

"Nonsense, Mads!" comes the response, "It's never too long for us Fentons!" for some reason this causes her to laugh before placing a hand on her husband's arm, smiling all the way.

"And how long is too long?" she asks.

"Uh, I don't know…"

"Honey..."

"...A day?"

Maddie sighs, the smile not disappearing from her face, "How about you take a break?" she suggests, rubbing his cheek with her thumb and index finger, "Clear your head, watch some TV, help me make your favorite treat..." she trails off, barely containing her giggles at the look on Jack's face as she mentioned the last part.

Grinning like a child on Christmas Day, he jumps to his feet at an impressive speed for a man his size and weight. He quickly pulls Maddie onto her feet with ease right as he speeds off towards the kitchen with his wife in tow.

Jazz shakes her head causing her long, orange hair to get slightly messy from the action; her dad was a five-year-old who's obsessed with the Ghostbuster movies. Danny lays down next to his older sister, looking sound asleep, muttering quietly under his breath.

"I don't want to..." Danny mutters, shaking his head furiously. Concern quickly taking control over her, Jazz grabs her ghost bookmark and slips it into her book as she shuts it closed.

Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, she shakes him, "Danny, what's wrong? What don't you want to do?" She knows somehow that her words are useless, like screaming underwater, but they comfort her a little bit. Just a little, tiny bit. Jazz bites her lip as she shakes his shoulder a bit rougher, "Danny, wake up. It's a dream, you're alright, just wake up."

Nothing happens.

If anything, the blue-eyed boy's breathing speeds up ever-so-slightly, his fingers twitch before they clench into tight knuckles, body temperature drops by one or two degrees as the painful seconds drag on and on and on. If Jazz were not human she would've – should've, could've – noticed all of this and more and more and more. So many – an infinite amount – and's and if's in every little thing in everything and anything imaginable.

Overwhelming.

Suffocating.

Constricting.

The sounds of heartbeats and terrible screams hit Jazz all at once like a head-on collision with such a harsh impact that she remains frozen. The scent of blood and ectoplasm mixed together flood her senses. Bitter and foul.

Disgusting.

Repulsive.

Jazz takes her hand off Danny's shoulder with a small gasp. Her turquoise-colored eyes widening as they glance at her hand and her little brother's sleeping form; she had no idea what the heck just happened. All those thoughts, those painful things, they came out of nowhere. As if a phantom of some sort had snuck up behind her and screamed bloody murder in her ear. A foreign sensation causes her to shiver, it leaves a cool feel behind in her bones.

Ignoring the rising goosebumps rising on her forearms and her hair standing on end, Jazz takes a deep breath before she pinches Danny's own arm tightly between her thumb and index finger. It's stupid, in genius, but it works; baby-blue eyes fly open, staring at the white ceiling of the living room.

"Danny?"

No reaction to indicate he heard her follows. She tries again.

"Hello, Danny?"

Nothing but blank blue eyes that shift from the walls to the ceiling follows. Back and forth. Wall, ceiling, wall, ceiling, wall, ceiling. Back and forth; again and again. Worry plagues the red-head's heart all at once. Just breathe, Jazz, - she thinks, - just breathe. Everything's going to be okay; Danny's okay, your okay. Everything is okay. A small voice in the back of her head causes her to freeze in place; why are you lying to yourself, Jazz? You know nothing's okay. Nothing in your life has ever been okay to even begin with.

Shaking her head wildly like a thrashing animal she attempts to shake the voice out of her head; Your not real, nothing you said is real! She thinks, closing her eyes so tightly that blotches of purple and blue appear in her vision, a laugh sounds through her head. I'm one-hundred percent real, - the voice responds, - your just denying the truth.

Liar.

Liar.

LIAR.

No response follows. Jazz hesitatingly opens her eyes only to find her unconscious little brother. "Danny..?"she asks, no reaction whatsoever graces his features. "Can you even hear me?" Jazz asks, huffing. An evil thought crosses her mind, "Mom's looking for you!" she exclaims, almost immediately the ghost boy snaps out of his trance-like state.

"What?" Danny asks, blinking madly and breathing harshly, "No, no, no, don't mess with me. It isn't funny, Jazz."

Raising an eyebrow, Jazz twirls a strand of her hair, a smile crossing her lips once she decides to do something her brother knows far too well; she was going to get him to talk about his current predicament and open up to the psychologist-in-training whether he liked it or not. Cocking her head innocently to the side, she asks, "And why not? I was just teasing you – you know that, Danny."

Turquoise-colored eyes scan her little brother's paler than usual face looking for any signs that may be helpful later on. Panic, fear, and sadness overwhelm his features before they disappear with a shaky breath, like fog on a mirror.

"It still isn't funny," he mutters, sitting up on the couch, "Her about this close-" he makes a small hand motion with his thumb and index finger to indicate how close, "-to my secret is driving me nuts! I have no idea when or where she'll bring it up! It could be the next time she decides to, I don't know, hold up a gun to my face."

"You're overeating. Yes, mom's getting close, but-" she shoots him a stern look, "-you shouldn't be panicking about this. You had to know this was eventually going to happen sooner or later, and look, it's happening right now. Nothing you can do to change that."

A huff escapes his lips, "I wish it was happening later…" he mutters under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest like a five-year-old. Jazz rolls her eyes at his antics and lightly smacks his shoulder, earning a yelp of pain from her younger brother, "Ow! Jazz!"

Worry overwhelms her features, "Oh my god, Danny, are you alright?" she questions, pulling him closer and scanning him over quickly. He shoots her a look of pure annoyance right back. Blushing in embarrassment, she shrugs weakly, "Standard question…?" she trails off.

"Are you going to do this every time?" Danny complains, phasing out of her grasp.

It's her turn to huff, "I will if you get hurt every time."

"Jazz," he begins, sighing, "It's not my fault that I get hurt, you know that-"

"-Of course I do," she interrupts, looking him in the eyes, "Your my baby brother, Danny, whether you like it or not I'm going to worry about you and help you no matter what happens. Anything could happen at any time and I'll still be here. Tomorrow, next week, in a million years even. The point is, I'm here for you and if you even do forget that I might just have to suck you into the Thermos to convince you otherwise."

Danny's silent throughout his sister's little monologue directed at him; a mix of emotions overflow his mind, leaving him with a numb heart. It hurt. It hurt so bad. Jazz may say those words now but there's no telling what may happen in the future – the next hour, the next day, or the next week – people's opinions change every second, every single day. She may be thinking of one thing today but maybe by tomorrow the thought may be blown away like dust in the wind. Shaking his head in order to clean the unwanted thoughts – Jazz raises an eyebrow at this – he shuts his eyes, nodding slowly.

"Yeah, okay," he finally says.

"Good," Jazz smiles back, "Now, let me see the damage."

"The what now?"

"The damage."

"What damage?"

"Danny."

"What? I have no – oh, you mean..?"

"Yes."

"Ooh, now that makes much more sense."

"You are clueless in more ways than one, little brother…"

"Hey!"

Jazz bursts out in giggles at the look on Danny's face, which causes him to roll his eyes at her antics. "Yeah, yeah," he says, "…How am I clueless anyway?" he questions, giving his giggling sister a curious look.

She deadpans before raising an eyebrow at him, her giggles having faded, "Are you really asking me that?" she asks in disbelief. He blushes, giving a small shrug. Sighing, Jazz rubs her forehead, "You are a lost cause."

"Hey!"

...

To anyone other than Sam Manson the idea of searching shelf after shelf for information on the subject of dark spirits seems insane. She knew this, but the idea of doing something abnormal and not fitting for someone her age just seems to cause her to do them with a bright smile on her purple-painted lips. Humming some inconsistent tunes, she trails a black painted fingernail across the spirals of several monochrome-colored books, eyes skimming over the words briefly. Her favorite bookstore in the world – Skulk N' Lurk – is the only place she can look for information in regards to anything relating to gore, poetry, and creatures of the night. The perfect fit for her.

Thankfully it was still early so it was just quiet enough for her to think in peace. Then again, if she wanted to be left alone to peace she could've just hidden away in her nice, dark bedroom at home but knowing her overbearing parents – their bright clothing being a nightmare to stare at for too long – they would constantly pop in on her and say something like 'how beautiful you would look in a lonely shade of pink, Sammykins!'. It doesn't bother her so much the first couple of times but as the ninth time approaches that's when her temper acts up.

So the bookstore was the best place.

Giving a small smile, she pulls the book labeled 'Fantasies & Realities of the Gothic Mind' off the shelf gingerly before she makes herself comfortable in the store's mini café area near the stage. Dropping her purple spider backpack onto the carpeted floor as she did so.

Opening the book to the table of contents, she skims over it, looking for something to catch her eye. Eventually something does. Flipping to the correct page, she re-reads the chapter title with the words 'Growing Darkness' in a strange font. Sam's eyebrows scrunch as she begins to read the chapter, taking her time.

After ten minutes or so of reading, she stands up and stretches, bones popping as she did so. Deciding that the book was interesting enough for her tastes she makes her way towards the cash register to purchase it. Luckily since Skulk N' Lurk wasn't that popular of a store there wasn't a long line, once it's her turn to pay she sets the book on the counter.

"Just this?" The cashier – a guy with multiple piercings and brightly dyed purple hair – asks, tapping the cover of the book with his fingers.

"For now anyway," Sam responds, opening her backpack just enough to grab her wallet.

"You know we have a special today; buy two books, get another fifty percent off your purchase," The way he says it sounds stale like here's grown tired of it already, "You up for it?"

A shrug follows, "Eh, why not?" she asks, "Any recommendations?"

He clicks his tongue in thought before giving her a grin, "Into the supernatural? You should be, since this is Amity Park and your standing here," he says confidently, bending underneath the counter to grab something. He soon reappears holding a thick, hardcover book in his hands. He slides it across the counter for her to see.

It looked formal. Golden, shiny font with the words 'Legends of the Dead' were easy to see from anywhere. A small picture that had a picture of several outlines of ghosts – both human-like and not-so-human like – in various colors, the outlines almost looking like a ghost's aura, and a familiar green-and-black sky behind the ghosts. Sam grins.

"It's exactly what I like," she pulls a bill out of her wallet, "Got change for a hundred?" she asks, holding it between her middle and index finger, waving it slightly in the air. The clerk's eyes widen as she places it in his hands, grabs the books, shoves them into her spider book bag, and heads towards the exit without missing a beat.

Confused, brown-colored eyes blink, "H-hey!" he calls out, Sam glances at him over her shoulder.

"What?"

He points at his own hand which is gripping the hundred dollar bill tightly, "This is way too much-"

"-Yeah, and..?" Sam interrupts him, raising an eyebrow in his direction, "I know that." She shrugs, exiting the store but not before calling out, "Keep the change!" the door's small bell jingles as it closes.

….

Jingle, jingle, jingle.

….

Slam. Clank.

Brown eyes flash a eerie crimson-color as a devilish grin replaces the confused look, the hundred dollar bill in his hands lights up in a bright orange-red color before it transforms into a small pile of ashes within seconds. He blows them, causing a small trail of gray to appear in the air. "Do you see that?" he murmurs quietly, "A path that leads you directly to Phantom's precious little Goth girl who now possess exactly what will lead to his destruction."

A female voice laughs hauntingly in the air as the customer's in the store fall to the ground in sync like puppets whose strings have snapped. "It's perfect," she giggles, "With love, comes death. With secrets, comes lies!" a shadow speeds through the monochrome-colored store, phasing into the store cameras.

"Illusions, memories, phantoms; they all fade away like dust in the wind."

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