Patrick Stump Imagines

Misfits (part 3)

A/N:
I'm having a hard time writing because of responibilities and the random shit circulating in my head. Anyways, I'm about to end this crappy mini-fanfiction of mine.

(That moment when you already have the ending of a story, but you're still contemplating on what to write as the story's

Y/N's POV

I ache everywhere, especially the fresh wounds on my arms. It took me seconds to realize that I'm in a hospital.

I sit up on the bed, trying to retrieve my memory. Ah. I fainted in the middle of PE class.

I fainted because Steve kept the food away from me for almost a week. I don't know what's running him, but I didn't do anything to upset or make him mad.

The door creaks open and a nurse walks in with a tray.

Food. My stomach grumbles at the word.

I looked around the ward, neither my step sister nor my mother's around.

"Do I have a visitor?" I ask the nurse as she started to check my vital statistics.

"You have, ma'am. Your boyfriend and your parents."

Boyfriend? I don't have one. I tell myself. On the other hand, I wonder what my parents had eaten and they decided to visit me.

"I'll call them." She says as she writes down what data she has gathered from me. "May I ask you something ma'am?"

I look at her.

"When was the last time you eat?" She asks.

I purse my lips. I hope I'm still alive by tomorrow. "Last week,"

She nods and writes down the words on her paper. She pulls a table and adjusts it to my side.

She helps me set the food. I try to grab the spoon, but failed. My arm's really weak.

"Please enjoy your lunch." She says and smiles. The moment she left me alone in this room, I look at myself. I'm full of bruises and wounds.

The door creaks open and there goes Patrick, smiling shyly at me; to be honest, I did not expect him to do this.

Right at the moment, I was convinced that seasons aren't the only one that change, but people too.

"Hey," I said shakily.

"I volunteered to look after you." He mutters, sitting on the corner of the bed.

"Thank you," I said and gazed on my food.

"Uh...do you need some help?" He asks.

I shook my head. Using the remaining strength in my body, I try to lift the spoon, but failed again, sending it to the floor.

Patrick stands up and picks the spoon, wiping it with a tissue.

"Um...did my parents come here?" I asked.

He shakes his head. "It's just me and the guidance councilor." He scoops some on the tray. "They went out, you know, for food."

I open my mouth as he assists me to eat. Despite the food's lack of taste, my stomach rumbles, wanting more. I started to chew, the food tastes like heaven as it fills my one-week empty stomach.

"How long am I here?"

"About two days," he says. "And your parents haven't visited you, which saddens me too."

They never cared about me and they never will. I tell myself, looking on my knotted fingers.

While I was chewing, I caught Patrick staring on my arms and legs. I bet this answers his question on why I always wear long sleeved shirts and skirts. I just concealed them so no one will see them in PE class.

------

I couldn't believe that I'm still admitted in this hospital and it is almost a week. The doctors said that I recover slowly like a turtle.

I always wait for my mother to visit me in this hospital ward, but she never did and it upsets me.

The drug started to have its effect on me when Patrick left to pick some of his clothes.

I relax down on the hospital bed, dimmed the lights and drifted myself into sleep.

I suddenly woke up, my weak body trying to fight as someone presses a pillow on my face, blocking the air to enter my nostrils.

The pillow was pressed really hard against my face and I couldn't move any muscle of my body, except for my hands that tried to push the pillow off my face.

I started crying for help, but it seemed no use because of the pillow that muffled every scream of mine.

That moment, I felt my arms gave up as they collapse on my sides, the darkness begun engulfing me.

°°°°°
Patrick's POV

I was surprised when Ms. Jenkins, the guidance councilor was standing next to Y/N, brushing her hair away from her face.

I observed a heart rate monitor and an oxygen tank; those weren't there yesterday before I left.

I walk next to Ms. Jenkins and asked what's going on.

"The nurses said that someone attacked her last night and found that pillow," she points on the pillow on the couch. "And she almost died because of that."

"I guess we shouldn't leave her alone here." I say as I suspect one family member of hers.

"If you do really know something about her family, please tell me. The information might be helpful to the investigation."

"I will." I said and looked at her frail body. It's like three more coughs and she's done.

I wasn't in the place to judge, but I have this strong feeling that Steve did it to her since he really hates her to the bones. It wouldn't be her mother, because she doesn't care at all, like now...she hasn't visited her daughter. Neither does Maggie, the head cheerleader of the school's pep squad, who cared nothing about herself.

Y/N slowly moves on the bed. The moment she woke up, tears immediately pricked her eyes.

Ms. Jenkins wrapped her arms around her fragile body, calming her down.