"Dear Hiatus..." (Sequel to A Living Hell) // Fall Out Boy

Killing Fields of Fire (Joe's POV)

"I'm off to get Pete and the rest of them from the airport, anyone care to come?" Patrick asked, getting his keys off the table.

"I'll come," Andy said, getting up from the couch. 

"I will, too," Elisa said, doing the same, but being mindful of Declan, who was fast asleep in her arms.

"Joe?" Patrick asked.

"I'll stay back. You guys should be back soon enough, anyway," I shrugged.

"A-Are you sure?" Andy asked, walking towards me.

"Yeah," I said. "I'll be fine."

"Alright. Call if you need anything," Andy said. "Please."

I nodded, then said goodbye to them. Andy sighed as he looked at me once more before closing the door. After they left, I sat back on the couch, shaking my head and sighing. Things just haven't been right for me. Ever since we arrived back home in Milwaukee, something has seemed very off, but I could never put my finger on it. Andy's tried to help me, but he doesn't know how. I don't know what to tell him, I don't know how to help myself.

When Andy told me that we were coming here to Patrick's for group therapy, I was hesitant. Therapy barely helped with the first time this all happened, and he expects it to help the second time around? I knew I didn't have a choice, so we packed up and headed south to Chicago. I'm holding on to a small shred of hope that just being here, being with everyone, will help me in some way. Maybe being with people, instead of being alone with my thoughts, will help. 

You'd think being with someone like Andy would help me, and it does - to an extent. But, Andy's tried just about all he can to help me. Like I said, we're both at a loss right now, and don't know how to help ourselves or one another. The FC guys have been mostly staying out of it, unless we want to talk about it or something, or if they have questions. They know we don't really want to talk about it, so they avoid it, for the most part. 

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I was still sitting on the couch, listening to the quiet rainfall outside, which seemed to fit the atmosphere of the day. I tried to stay out of my head, out of my thoughts, at least until the guys came back, but it was proving difficult. I'd get into my trances again - these blackout moments of time where I just have flashback after flashback of what happened to me. Being alone and having these was always dangerous for me, that's why Andy was always hesitant to leave me alone. 

I got up from the couch, walking down the hallway and going into the guest room for Andy and I. I reached for my suitcase and put it on the bed. I unzipped it and started pulling the clothes out, one by one, searching for my depression meds. I started to cry, not being able to find them. I looked under all my clothes that were still in there, through my bathroom items, in the little pocket on the side. They weren't anywhere, I couldn't find them anywhere. 

I threw my suitcase on the floor, scraping the wall with the wheels and sending the remaining clothes flying out and onto the floor beside it. I picked Andy's up and set it on the bed. Through my blurry vision, I saw he had his suitcase locks on the zipper. I cried more, trying to break the lock. It wouldn't budge, so I grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and looked through it, finding the keys. I pulled them out and unlocked the suitcase, throwing his wallet and the keys onto the floor, on top of all the cards I had pulled out of it.

I ripped open his suitcase, tearing through it like I did mine. I sent his clothes flying onto the other end of the bed, some onto the floor next to mine. I pulled a pair of shorts out and I heard rattling as I threw it past me. I dropped the other clothes in my hands and fell to the floor, reaching for the shorts. I unfolded them and saw my bottle of pills wrapped in them.

Through my blurry vision, I unscrewed the cap and dumped the pills into my hand, not even being able to count how many I had. I scrambled to my feet and ran to the kitchen, going through the cabinets, knocking a few dishes and glasses onto the floor. I managed to fill a glass up and dumped a majority of the pills into my mouth, swallowing them down with the water. Through my hurrying, I dropped a few pills on the floor, amongst the broken glass. 

I sat down against the pantry door on the opposite side of the kitchen and held my head in my hands again. I was still crying, just trying to escape everything that was in my head. I scrambled to my feet again and ran down the hallway, back to the guest room. I picked my suitcase up again and searched through it, eventually finding the pair of pants I was looking for. I reached in the pocket and pulled out a razor blade.

I stared at it through my blurred vision, crying harder than before because of all the flashbacks that flooded my head from when I was locked in that god forsaken room, under her control. I blinked my eyes, sending tears falling down into my lap. I stayed that way for a little while, then looked at the blade again. I put it against my arm, shivering at the familiar feeling. I pulled it across my skin, making blood lines appear over my old scars.

I cried in pain, yet in relief. I kept doing it, not being able to stop. I just needed to escape. I needed to escape this 'reality' I lived in every day. I needed to go to a place where the pain stopped, where I felt alright. And my only escape was to take the drugs that were supposed to help me, and to use a tool that shouldn't even be in my possession. 

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I eventually threw the blade down, back into my suitcase. Blood dripped off of my arms, landing on my shirt and pants. I held my arms close to me, crying just as hard as before. I fell to my side, clutching the side of the bed, smearing blood on the blanket. I started to get dizzy, my vision blurred more than before, and before I knew it, I blacked out, my arm going limp and falling to my side. 

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please vote? it'd mean sooo much<3

ahahaha ... oops. you guys hate me. it's okay. I love joe so much and this hurts me to keep doing this to him. oh mY GOD IM A TERRIBLE PERSON.

ILL LET MYSELF OUT.

*JUMPS OFF CLIFF*