Light My Way Back Home •Patrick Stump+Fall Out Boy•

Chapter Seventeen: I Hate How I Need You

||Cole Wentz|| First Person||

When I woke up this morning, my stomach made this twisting feeling and this soft groan as my brain immediately flipped forward to a calendar and screamed at me that it's been a week.

My time is up.

I thought I'd be ready. A week, seven days, one hundred and sixty eight hours, however the hell you'd like to say it. But back to the main point, that's a lot of fûcking time and I should be prepared. I should have planned the way I'd go about this, because for someone who spent a lot of time thinking about it, I had no idea how I was going to act on it.

He told me specifically ten at night, which is probably going to be a difficult feat because Patrick and Maya will both be home then, which will stunt my options on how I'd escape the house. Climbing out of a window wasn't an option at a time like this, unless my suicidal tendencies got the best of me and let me jump a couple of floors down from my balcony to the parking lot. I'm not spiderman- I can't spin a web or scale the walls easily. I'm only human, and yeah, I will most definitely bleed when I inevitably break my neck from a fall like that. My best and seemingly only option is through the front door, and I'm sure at this time that that will cause a bit of commotion with Patrick because all we can do is fight nowadays.

It's ten in the morning at this time, and Maya is running around the living room with a Barney episode that was on Netflix sprawled across the screen. Patrick tried desperately to get her to watch a different show, and so far, the only show she'll allow him to put on that isn't Barney is Pingu because she finds the NOOT NOOT part hilarious, as do I, a 23 year old girl. Patrick is sitting on the living room chair, his laptop on his lap as he glances at Maya every few seconds just to see her finally move towards him and sit on his sock covered feet. Patrick smiles at her and pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, looking back at his laptop again. I take a slow sip of the cup of cranberry juice, closing my eyes and taking a big breath. I couldn't tell him now, because that would eliminate any chances of me being able to save Hayley's life. I'd have to wait until I'm already gone. Maybe I'll leave a note and slip out last minute.
I set the mug down on the counter and slink back to the island, sitting on the barstool before glancing down at my Macbook. The page was opened to my Twitter feed, just scrolling through tweets that people I either knew or admired posted. I'm about to exit the browser before a FaceTime call interrupts me. This time, I know who it is and grab my earbuds, plugging them in and accepting the call.

I'm unfortunately welcomed by the sick face of Derek Skinner, his expression unreadable and screwed up. He leans forward and smiles shortly. "You haven't forgot about our date, have you?" When I don't answer for fear that Patrick will hear me, he laughs. "Patrick in the room? Well, okay, how about you just listen? I'm feeling generous today. I have people as we speak keeping tabs on both your apartment building and your emo brother Pete's house. Don't ask how, but just know that if you try anything, I can easily have Hayley Williams killed. If that isn't enough for you, I heard that the little Stumpling is staying home today, too." My face must say it all, for he's laughing at me again. "But anyways, I'll see you tonight. Have a good day, babe." And just like that, the call is ending.

I have to go now.

There is no talking myself out of leaving that door tonight, because not only is my best friend's life counting on it, so is my daighter's. I take a shuddering, deep breath, my hands trembling like a crack addict in withdrawal and make an animal dying sound in the back of my throat. I slam my laptop lid down hard, startling Patrick, who looks up from his place in the living room curiously. He pushes his laptop away and slowly makes his way to the kitchen, looking at me cautiously. "Cole?"

"It's nothing," I snap sharply, my tone surprising him. "Just go."

"It's obviously not nothing," Patrick presses. "Cole?" He repeats.