Cause I just can't look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibi
But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
'Cause I'm Mr Brightside. - Mr Brightside, The Killers.
I spent the next week alone in my house. No one visited, except for my therapist, and the man who brings the pizza I would order when hungry. I didn't feel like doing anything. I didn't tell anyone about what I had seen that day either.
On Thursday I decided I should probably take Hemingway on a walk. It wouldn't be fair to make him suffer too. Lucky devil. He gets to rely on someone else to do everything for him whilst I take all the hits and bruising. I don't know why I still have him really. He must be so done with my shit. Got him as a kid, so we have been through it together. Hate to admit it but I kinda need him.
The occasional camera went off as I stepped out into the street but I ignored them and walked to the park, and out again home.
I couldn't sleep again that night. The images of Saturday spun in my mind, and all I could see through it all was Him. I got up.
I locked myself in the bathroom and in a cold sweat, leaned against the sink, breathing heavily. Everything was as it should be; there was my towel, my medication, my toothbrush, eyeliner. It didn't feel right though. Splashing my face with cold water from the tap, I shook out a few pills of Atavan Halen (beautiful stuff) and swallowed them dry.
The pills soon worked wonders and, feeling drowsy, I fell asleep.
The following morning, I was awoken by two things. The first was a dog, barking mad from downstairs. The second was a loud rapping on the door.
I didn't want to get up but I did. With a wild bed head and only in my pants and Top from the night before, I opened it.
Two burly policemen, both in the uniform of the Hollywood department. They stepped inside without my consent and said,
"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the third, you are under arrest for suspicion of murder."
I was escorted to the car. In the back I fell asleep. I was pretty sure I just hadn't woken up yet.
YOU ARE READING
The (After) Life Of The Party...
FanfictionFeatures Pete Wentz, Brendon Urie, Tøp Patrick stump and Mikey Way. The party has just ended, and Pete wakes up to a completely trashed house. He has barely any recollection of what he did that night. Everyone has left from the night before... Or h...
