tw: self harm
Pete P.O.V.
I woke up to a ringing. I looked at my clock and saw it was 4:13... who would be calling me this late?
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up quietly, grabbing my phone off the bedside table and unplugging it from the charger. I tiptoed out of the room, being careful not to wake up Meagan.
I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Elisa calling. Oh god, this can't be good.
"Hello? Elisa, what's up?" I said groggily.
I heard shorts breaths before her panicked voice said, "Pete? I need you to come over here right now. Patrick, he... I don't know! He just, I woke up and he—"
"Elisa, slow down. What happened?" I said, much more alert now. I slipped some shoes on and grabbed a jacket before dashing out the door as she explained.
She took a deep breath before stuttering out, "He... we were trying to work on his arm earlier. He got really upset when he couldn't. Then Dec almost hit his head on a table, but Patrick grabbed him before he could with his bad arm. He held him for a bit, then almost dropped him. Pete, he looked so, so sad. He went to our room and I put Declan to bed. When I got back to our room, he was asleep. So I laid down next to him and went to bed. Next thing you know, I wake up to him screaming. I tried to calm him down, but he locked himself in the bathroom. I can't get him out and all I hear is crying. Please, can you try to get him out?"
I stood, my hand on the door knob, shocked for a minute. Then I sprang into action, running to the car and slamming the door behind me. "I'm on the way."
********
"He's upstairs," Elisa said after she opened the door.
I nodded and rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time. I found my way to their bedroom and looked to the bathroom door. A dim light could be seen under the crack of the door and soft weeps were audible throughout the room.
I hesitantly stepped up the door and lightly knocked. "P-Patrick? It's Pete. You okay in there?" I asked quietly.
I heard his crying stop for a moment, then continue. I just imagined what he looked like right now. Cheeks red, hair a mess, empty tears hitting the floor.
"Patrick, buddy, can you open the door?" I said, hoping for an answer.
I heard nothing except smalls whimpers from the other side of the door. If Patrick wouldn't comply, I would have to take measure into my own hands.
"Patrick, if you don't open the door, I'm going to have it open it myself," I told him. I heard no clear response, so I turned to Elisa, who was waiting at the door. "Do you have a bobby pin or something?"
She nodded and ran out of the room, returning moments later with a bobby pin in her hand. I thanked her and took it from her nimble fingers. I placed the pin in the lock and jiggled it around until I heard a click.
I took a deep breath and swung the door open almost crying out when my eyed landed on Patrick.
He was huddled in the corner of the bathroom. His cheeks were red, as I imagined. His hair was everywhere and tears were still falling from his eyes. His hand was scratching at his concave stomach, a little red blood trickling down his shirt from his stained fingers.
I took a step toward him and he huddled back even more. I stopped, thought for a moment, and knelt down. This was like trying to comfort a lost puppy.
