P.o.v Patrick
Ian drags me painfully by my hair towards the dreadful cellar and down the stairs. When we hit the bottom he continues to drag me to the center of the room. He drops me, and I hit my head off the concrete before he walks over to a corner of the room, grabbing a chair. Ian storms back over to me, his exotic purple eyes I used to be fascinated with now filled with poison and venomous anger.
He sets down the chair next to me and grabs my bruised arm, hauling me up and slamming me down into the chair. I cower as he stands tall and proud in front of me. He squats down in front of me, and puts his hands on my knees as I silently let tears fall. "Oh Patrick... I wish I didn't have to do this to you, baby." He says, genuine sorrow in his voice.
Do what? Cut off another body part? He sighs and stands back up, walking over to that familiar table with all those familiar torturous items laying on it. He reaches for the rope, and walks back to me. He forcefully grabs my arms and pins them painfully behind my back, tying my wrists tightly, now completely immobile.
He continues to grab more rope, tying it around my ankles. When he is done he grabs my chin and forces my head up to face him, "You pathetic little bitch, stop crying!!! You know it has to be this way..." He growls, releasing my chin and slowly circling me. "You deserve this. You are nothing but a worthless piece of shit. You are mine, you have nothing.." He says, anger seething in his voice. The more I think about his words, the more I believe he is right. I am worthless... I am pathetic. I do deserve this.
He walks over to the table once again and searches for something, not finding it for a few moments. He storms over to me with a roll of duct tape in his hands after a minute or two. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground as he marches behind my chair.
He wraps the tape several times around my mouth and head and when he is finished he throws the tape into some pile of rubbish in the cellar. He walks back over to the table once again, pulling out chains. Ian walks over to the cellar door with the chains in his grip, picking up two cinder blocks with his other arm on his way out of the door. I feel my heart beat speed up, my breathing rapid as he comes back into the cellar after a few minutes outside. What is he planning?
He comes over to my chair, and kneels down in front of me again, "You know Patrick, don't be afraid." He soothes, his voice a lot more calm this time. "Dying isn't as bad as it seems." He smirks at this last sentence, and my eyes widen. I thrash and pull at my bonds, trying desperately to free myself as he pulls a needle from his back pocket.
He chuckles deeply as he holds my head still, plunging the needle into my neck. He slips the point out of my neck after pushing the liquid into my veins, blood trickling down the small puncture as I feel myself grow drowsy. After only a few minutes, my eyelids droop down, and I succumb to the darkness of my subconscious.
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Help ( Fall out boy )
Fanfiction** First part to a trilogy ** On an ordinary night, Fall out boy never could have predicted how the night would end so miserably. Fighting for their lives, sanity, and each other, Fall out boy must do what ever they...
