This May Take Some Time and Effort. [Fall Out Boy/Patrick Stump fanfiction]

Chapter Twenty-The Wrists of My Mind Have the Bleeding Lines

"Cor? It's me."

It's like those three simple words summon me or something. Suddenly, I'm standing beside my hospital bed.

Wow, I look like shit.

I have a thin layer of gauze around my neck, wrists, and I can see a lump under the hospital gown, so I'm assuming there's some there too, and an IV pumping medicine into my veins. My hair looks OK, though, so that's a plus.

Patrick is still sitting on that stupid plastic chair, but this time, he's got something with him. His laptop.

"I may or may not have written a song for you," he says sheepishly, adjusting his thick, black glasses. He taps the mousepad and sets the laptop on the bed, and the familiar sounds of a piano start to fill the room.

There is a girl in the front of my class

Who I swear I've never seen do anything but laugh

She's tall and she's smart,

beautiful and strong,

And when someone's down, she tries to fix what is wrong...

My eyes start to fill up with tears, and I want to go hug him, tell him it will be all right-but I can't.

"How does someone so perfect

feel so insecure,

as to scar her skins with cuts and burns,

and still want to hurt more?

How does someone so lovely

learn to hate her own guts?

Drawing a picture on her arm with a blade,

as if her mind isn't dark enough

for her imperfections..."

And that's when I started to cry.

"There is a girl in the front of my class

who's eyes are glazed over like
newly colored glass...

A ghost of a smile, inside her face,

and she laughs as they tell her who's on first base...

How does someone so perfect

feel so insecure,

as to scar her skins with cuts and burns,

and still want to hurt more?

How does someone so lovely

learn to hate her own guts?

Drawing a picture on her arm with a blade,

as if her mind isn't dark enough...

There is a girl in the front of my class,

who's so sad, you find it rare to see her smile or laugh

Her friends tell her jokes, like that one with the guy

But all she does is close her eyes and enter her mind...

How does someone so perfect

feel so insecure,

as to scar her skins with cuts and burns,

and still want to hurt more?

How does someone so lovely

learn to hate her own guts?

Drawing a picture on her arm with a blade,

as if her mind isn't dark enough

for her imperfections...

There was a girl, in the front of my class

who yesterday almost took the breath that was her last.

She wrote a few notes, 'I'm sorry I didn't say, but my mind was messed up, you couldn't save me anyways..."