Engulfed

Chapter 7

The worst part of my night was living. Never have I would've thought it'd be work to breath, a struggle to open my eyes. My brain slowly processed information:

My name is Patrick Stump. I'm 30 years old. I'm the lead singer of Fall Out Boy. I've been with them for almost 15 years.

I saved Brendon Urie.

I am barely alive.

White ceiling tiles and bright lights fly past me. My ears adjust to the sounds of voices and machines around me. An oxygen mask was stuck to my face and I was lying on a speeding gurney.

Three young men's blurry faces followed my bed. I caught them from the corner of my eye when they'd catch up to the nurses pushing me around.

One had fluffy and curly dark hair and green eyes. Joe Trohman, Fall Out Boy's guitarist and joker.

Another with large muscles, green eyes, a scruffy discolored beard, and neatly slicked back hair. Colorful tattoos marked his arms and legs. Andy Hurley, our drummer.

And one with short blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes which screamed worry, thick black eyebrows, and one visible tattoo around his neck, a thorn necklace. My best friend, Pete Wentz, the bassist and voice of our band.

The whole of Fall Out Boy was here.

Pete grabbed hold of a rod in the gurney, looking down at me, "He's coming to!" his voice echoed in my ringing ears.

The numbness slowly went away and pain came crushing in. I felt my body convulse and tense. I winced and moaned weakly, not even recognizing my own voice.

Pete jumped back, but caught back up, putting his hand on my forehead, "You'll be okay Patrick... Hang in there buddy."

My eyes started to close and I felt like giving up. I can't give up. Pete, Joe, and Andy are all counting on me to survive. How can I survive if the pain hurts more than living?

"Allie..." I moan. I don't know why and I don't know who Allie is, only that I need to know because she's still hanging on in my mind.

The bumping and pushing stops as my gurney is rolled into a room.

Pete and Andy put their arms under me and lift me onto a bed while the nurses are busily ripping out packets of tools and madly writing records down.

I'm hooked up to an IV, a heart monitor, and some pain-killing meds instantly. The numbness kicks in and I relax back into my bed.

A figure with glasses leans over me with a flashlight and a blue mask over his mouth. He tries to ask me questions, but I can't answer any of them.

"Second degree burns to the face and arms. Third degree burns to the chest, legs, hands, and feet. Keep him hooked to a ventilator and put him on life support," the man said.

At the words life support, Pete froze and broke. Andy and Joe put an arm around each side of Pete, all three of them tearing up.

Again, I felt a sensation and a wave of pain pass through. My back arched as I yelled out. A nurse ran over and poked a needle in my neck, causing me to fall back.

I can't move at all and I begin to lose my conscious.

Pete had just uncovered his ears when I glanced in his direction. He paced back and forth, Joe and Andy trying to calm him down.

I closed my eyes, listening to all of the sounds that the machines made around me.

The sounds started draining out as I began to slip out. All but one sound, a shout from Pete. I forced my eyelids to open just enough to see the boys being pushed out of the room.

Their voices weren't the worst thing, either. The look on Pete's face, just before the door was shut, was the worst thing I've ever seen or felt from him.

The thought that his best friend might die by suffering scared him more than dying himself. He looked like he wanted to somehow switch places with me. Pete loved me and he did not want to lose me tonight.

I'd take burns and breaks anytime over watching that terrible look on his face.

I just emotionally wrecked and killed Pete Wentz.

"Pete..." I mumble softly and feel my eyes start to close again.

A light shines over me and hands reach out in front of my face just as I'm cut from the world.

~ Becca