The Beauty Behind The Psycho's Creation

Twin Skeletons

(Patrick's POV)

I hated playing early morning shows. Don't get me wrong, I had nothing against The Today Show. I'd just rather not wake up that early in the morning. Especially considering I didn't even close my eyes until after 3:00am. But at least we get to be in New York for three days and two nights. Too bad I was going to spend the remainder of the first morning getting the sleep I was so ungraciously deprived of.

We each had our own room, but of course I was in Pete's. Our manager asked me to put some space between us on this trip but that wasn't going to happen. Besides, this hotel is rumored to be cursed. That's just a step away from haunted. Who would hunt a four star hotel anyway? The ghost of some snotty rich girl's past?

I glanced out at the bathroom door. Pete's been in there for a little over fifteen minutes. What the hell could he even be doing? I stood up and walked over to the door. I couldn't hear a thing. I knocked two times. Softly. There was gasp on the other side of the door.

"Pete?" I knocked again. "Are you okay?" He didn't answer. Oh screw this. I twisted the knob and to my surprise the door opened. Revealing a shaken up Pete balled up beside the toilet. "Pete!" I rushed to his side. Trying to hug him as closely as possible. "What's wrong?"

"Do you know that I haven't slept in four days? Every time I try to close my eyes, Saint cries. Or Bronx has a nightmare. Or its the middle of the day and I have things to do. And I can't sleep Patrick. I can't focus." He was speaking so quickly, it was hard to keep up.

"Pete, this is why you need to let me stay the night at your place. Or move in. I can help." I could feel him shaking in my hold. How did I not notice this? Looking at him now, it was clear he wasn't sleeping. But Pete was always so lively and smiling. He hid it well. "Come on, Pete." I helped him stand up.

He walked with me back into his bedroom. I laid on the bed first and waited for him to join me. We had nothing planned for the rest of the trip. The kids were back home and the curtains were closed he could sleep now. I cuddled up closer to him and yawned. We could both sleep. Within a few moments, I could feel myself drifting off...

**** **** **** **** **** ****

I'm not sure what time it was when I opened my eyes. What I was sure of was that Pete wasn't in the bed next to my. I sat up quickly. My eyes scanning the room. The bathroom door was opens and the light was off. So he wasn't in the bathroom. And damn it was cold in this room. I knew New York wouldn't be warm at this time in October, but I didn't think the room would be this cold. I walked into the sitting area of Pete's room and stopped. The balcony doors were open. Just like before, visions of Pete's attempted suicide hit me. I ran through the door and Pete was just standing there. Staring up at something.

"I can't sleep." He mumbled.

"You didn't sleep at all?"

"Because of that damn crow. He keeps fucking squawking or whatever the hell it is crows do."

I walked to stand beside him, looking up. And I saw the black crow. But I didn't hear it making any noise. I glanced over at Pete and he was glaring up at the bird.

"I don't hear it."

"Don't you think I know that?" He snapped. My eyes widened. "It's obviously being fucking quiet now because we're looking at it."

"Well maybe now you can sleep?"

"You're so stupid, Patrick." I flinched at the harshness in his voice. "As soon as we lay down he's going to do it again!"

"Pete. Have you taken your Ativan?"

"You think I need to take those pills to be normal as if I'm crazy?" He glared. I frowned. I hadn't seen this Pete in years.