Patrick Stump Imagines

Detectives and Doctors (part 2)

Do you think it would be better if I do a solo book about this? I need your opinions, please comment.

To me. Yes, it does.

-----

As you try to stand up, your face almost kissed the ground. It must have been the result of being casted for almost a week and suspended in a mattress. Aside from that, whatever that freakshow's injecting you, it isn't good.

All you have to do is to come out of hell and report to your co-detectives.

Looking above, you found a vent, but you were unable to reach it due to your state. You immediately raced to your backpack, looking for something useful.

The maniac has taken all of your stuff, but left some of your clothes. You were groaning in irritation as something clinked on the ground.

A lighter.

Wondering what would these stuff would do for you to escape, you sat back on the bed, looking on your stuff and the vent. You have to escape and go back to the city.

The first option that raced in your mind was to burn your shirt and insert it in the vent, but you ditched the thought away as it would suffocate and kill you. And that would grab his attention.

You sighed, placing your hands around your mouth. You don't have any options since the door was really sealed tightly. Leaping on your feet, you grabbed your shirt. Since you were unable to reach the vent, you took the rod where your IV rested.

You took it down, wrapped your shirt at the end and placed it on fire. Sending a hand to your nose, you placed the burning shirt in the vent.

As the fire produced smoke, you drenched the other one in the water that he brought and used it to cover your nose. Moments later, you heard noise from the other side of the door.

Patrick came in, coughing. With the chance you had, you pushed him to the mattress and ran out.

When you thought you could be free, you weren't as what seemed a warehouse confused you for the exit. Despite the fire burning on the vent, Patrick grabbed you tightly.

"Let me go! You twisted doctor!" You screamed.

"You're not going anywhere! Not in my watch!" He grabbed a syringe from his pockets and stung you.

"No!" You groaned, trying to shift from his grasp.

Then, as darkness surrounded you, you realized something.

He drugged you again.

-----

They watched as a mother grieved over her daughter's remains before they bury her coffin six feet under. They let the rain drench them as guilt ran into everyone of them.

We shouldn't have let her all alone. All of their minds said.

One of them clenched his hands into fists as he tries to digest everything that happened before they found her dead body.

He will do everything to unveil the truth as everything seemed unrealistic for him.

-----

A knife was pointing on you when you gained back your consciousness. Then, the knife started to caress your face, down your throat and stopped on your chest.

"You almost killed us, you know?" Patrick said, his face radiating with anger. The knife's tip circled on your chest. "Just to make sure you wouldn't misbehave again..." he pointed to your right. "That happened."

Your wrist was cuffed to the spot where your right leg was cuffed. Out of a sudden, he grabbed your face as he gazed at you.

"If I didn't like you, it would be the actual you who would appear in that basement." He said, then pressed his lips on yours. Whenever you try to pull away, his hands would push you to him.

Your free hand flew in the air, hitting his cheek when he broke away from your kiss. Instead of lashing back at you, he pushed you on the mattress, hovered on you and pressed his lips against yours once again.

If he could do this to you right at the moment, imagine what he would do in the incoming days you're staying here.