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

Chapter Twenty Three: I'll Be Your Worst Enemy

||Cole Wentz|| First Person||

The second we're in the privacy of the hallway, Derek's hand is tightening almost roughly around my upper arm as he shoves me forward, making me stumble over my feet. He pushes me against the wall, the wallpaper chipped and old unlike the lobby, before working on unlocking the hotel room door. I inhale sharply and glance to the side, biting my lip and wondering exactly how far I can get if I break away and sprint off. I imagine myself turning on my heel and sprinting forward, heading down the hallway and making a sharp turn for the staircase where I would jog down the steps quickly before I burst into the lobby and hide somewhere from Derek's sight. When my right foot twitches in anticipation and turns to face the path I would take, Derek is grabbing my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in those eyes of his.

"You are going to listen to me," he says slowly, as if the words sounding and tumbling from his slightly chapped lips weren't right in my ears, "because you don't want anything happening to your best friend, right?" When I gulp and nod, he smiles. "Get in the room." That was more of a heads up rather than an exact telling because Derek is grabbing my arm into his rough palm and shoving me past the doorway and into the hotel room. It was just like any regular inn bedroom- there was a bed of course, a small dining table, a tv, and a bathroom. The problem? It looked like a tornado tore through it. It was basic, and it was where Derek is locking me until that stupid flight we're supposed to take in a few days. My eyes survey the room, the small, cramped room, biting my tongue when my gaze sweeps over the peeling floral print wallpaper, my nose scrunching up in disgust when my eyes catch sight of the worn out duvet with the fading pattern. Derek must have given me the worst room in this establishment. Not surprising, though.

"I have rules, as does everybody," Derek leans against the wall by the door, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks pointedly at me. "Rules that you have agreed to follow. You are going to stay put in this room unless I say so. You are going to keep that mouth of yours shut because we don't want anybody hearing you, right?" I hold my tongue. "We will be staying here for the better part of the week. I want you on your best behavior, Colby. If I even suspect that you're up to something, I'm going to have a heck of a time taking the people you love from you." I gulp hard, swallowing past the lump in my throat as he waits for me to nod in comprehension.

"We go and you leave my family alone?" I say weakly. Derek looks at me and sighs, pushing himself off the wall and crossing the room to where I stand. His fingers, easier this time, lift my chin up slightly as he looks straight into my eyes. Don't whoop his ass, Cole. Stay still.

"We leave, and not another word is spoken about them." Derek nods, smiling slightly before letting go and turning around, heading for the door.

"Hey," I turn around just as Derek is about to leave. He turns around and looks at me, his eyebrows raised in question. "Why?"

"Why what?" He asks me.

"Why are you doing all of this?" I elaborate.

"Why am I doing this?" Derek repeats.

"Yeah," I tell him. He cocks his head to the side in thought, as if he was actually contemplating the question though he already knew the answer. "Why?"

"The landline on the desk doesn't work and only goes to the front desk. If you attempt to call anyone through it, I will personally send Luke in." Derek says, ignoring my question before giving me this piece of information.

"Luke?" I ask. The name sounds familiar.

"Remember the guy your boyfriend beat up on the train? Three years in prison does a lot to people." Derek winks at me, smacking his gum with a smile before he heads for the door, stepping out and locking the door. I seize up in the middle of the room, waiting for his footsteps to fade down the hall before I reach down my sweater and into my bra. I wince in pain as I cross over to the bed, pulling the cell phone out while doing so, the adrenaline wearing off and allowing me to embrace the intense pain my body is in. I carefully sit on the edge of the bed, turning the phone on and sighing in relief when I see it's at 82% battery.
I unlock the phone and quickly check the text messages, seeing that Patrick replied just a minute ago.

Cole?

I delete the texts and quickly dial his number, crouching behind the bed and waiting for an answer. The phone rings and rings and rings until finally, someone picks up.

"Who is this?" My brother asks harshly.

"That's not a very nice way to talk to me," I whisper lowly. I hear Pete's intake of breath. Why'd he pick up Patrick's phone? It doesn't matter much to me, I'm happy with either one.

"Oh my goodness, Cole, where are you?" Pete asks me. I shrug.

"Some dingy hotel God knows where. Just, this is Derek's phone and he's going to realize that it's missing soon, so please do me a favour and take this number to the police." I continue to whisper. "I'm in a bad place right now, Pete. My head is killing me, my neck is sore, my body feels like it's in shambles, and I have this gash on my thigh-"

"He touched you?" Pete exclaims.

"No!" I say quickly, catching myself before speaking softly. "No, the tree ripped a hole in my leggings and scraped my leg."

"Oh gosh, go wash it and wrap it up with something. It's going to get infected." Pete says, but I don't hear him because I hear footsteps outside of my door. I quickly hang up on Pete and turn the phone off, shoving it under the bed before I dive over to the bathroom. The doorknob is shaking before someone unlocks it.

"Were you talking?" Derek asks, peaking his head around the door.

"Singing, actually," my voice shakes.

"Singing what?" Derek opens the door a bit more, stepping into the room. "Because that sounded more like talking."

"What?"

"What were you singing?" Derek asks me.

"You don't want to know."

"Sing."

"No,"

"Sing,

"No!"

"Sing. S I N G, sing."

"Fine!" I erupt. Kick Me is the first thing that comes to mind. "Let's hang the jury, you sick judgemental fools. I'll bury you six feet deep, cause I'm tired of your rules."

"That's-"

"FUČK YOU AND YOUR OPINION! How could you be so blind? What goes around comes back around in time." I'm not actually singing or anything, more like angry words to a flow. "You don't know shit, you don't know shit about me. You don't know shit, shit, shit, don't know a GODDAMN THING ABOUT ME!" Derek is fuming, slamming the hotel room door shut firmly. "KEEP LOOKING DOWN ON ME, I AM MORE THAN YOU'LL EVER BE. CUT ME DEEP, BUT I WON'T BLEED. YOU'RE GONNA KICK, KICK, KICK ME WHEN I'M DOWN."

"Shut up." Derek tells me.

"Oh, my, I thought you told me to sing?"

"Well now I'm telling you to shut the fûck up." Derek says. "Keep your mouth shut, don't attempt shît, and I won't have to kick your àss." Derek says, yanking the door open, stepping out, and locking the door behind him. I inhale sharply, leaning against the wall. That was too close. Texting only.

I lower myself down to sit on the floor, staring at the window across the room leading to the balcony. We're probably third floor, and if I tried, I could maybe jump down. It was a dangerous choice, but I'm not going to sit on my aśs and stay here doing nothing.
I close my eyes and focus on controlling my breathing, sighing heavily. I almost got myself sold out, but I at least heard from my brother. He can find me. They can find me.

By all means

Put me through hell

And I'll make you see

I'll be your worst enemy

Try to kick, kick, kick me when I'm down.

-/::\-

Going to write the next chapter and hopefully get it up quickly

-Stay Classy, Young Volcanoes

•LeaveNoWordsUnspoken