We're Only Liars // Peterick

☆The Tides Out, The Ship's Run Aground☆

Pete's POV

"Turn it off." I eyed the stranger who completely ignored me, disregarding my request, he remained sat there fixated to the LCD screen encased in a thick plastic box on the wall. It was almost as if I wasn't there, nothing between him and the TV. I stood up and walked over, keeping my distance but enough to communicate more clearly with him.

"I said turn it off."

"Now, why would I do that?" His abrupt grin spread wide, the skin of his cheeks suffocating the bottom of his eyes, but he didn't return the eye contact I was attempting to gain and that slightly nerved me. He was an older man, I'd assume he was in his late 40s from his appearance; apparent loosening skin and slowly fading hair cleared that one for me however his eyes looked bright and his reflexes were fine tuned as I tried to grab the remote from his grip. He'd already pulled away before I even came close. I watched his smile drop and body instantly stiffen like a switch had unknowingly just been flicked. His eyes darted across the floor. "You?" His voice boomed, "you don't own me."

I stepped back, not just because I felt cautious and wary of the unusual stranger I was trying to cohere with, I stepped back because his grin left his face, ever so suddenly his grin was replaced with an expression that screamed something close to fear but not quite, something was missing. His washed out green eyes were bleak and lacked any noticeable form of emotion as he gazed back at the TV which I'd momentarily forgotten about.

"—however police are still appealing for any witnesses to come forward with information that could be linked to the musician and his wife's disappearance."

The end of the news broadcast switched off and before more could be said the channel was shifted to adverts. I was still stood there, the missing image of him burnt into my eyes and my mind, most likely conscious and subconscious. It's been months, I didn't think this would still be all over the news, capturing headlines and causing his name to become more household known for his disappearance than his talent, it was sickening because he isn't going to be found and he's just going to be the man who went missing and nothing more.

"You know, some people are saying that they've just ran away together? Got away from it all and that just because he's famous, that doesn't mean we should be hunting down his every step, that he's his own person and the media shouldn't be giving them this much attention" I snapped my head back at the bewildering older man, my heart was beginning to pound as his words processed in my head, he turned off the TV much to my content and placed the remote down on the plastic table fixed to the floor, "however, someone like that just doesn't run away, he never seemed like that type of person, always smiling, always happy."

"He wasn't like that," I paused and we finally made eye contact, his eyes were sharp and I held my stare as did he, "he didn't run away to his happily ever after, his happily ever after was here with–" I stopped myself abruptly, 'me', I was going to say 'me'. My mouth grew dry, "he had everything he ever wanted and needed here." The man nodded solemnly, disregarding the obvious flawed answer.

"So, why are you here?" The question was pretty off topic but nonetheless typical in the hell hole of Caspen House, 'the rehabilitation centre for the mentally unstable and traumatised', you were either one or the other here, and I fell headfirst into the traumatised section which gratefully meant I wasn't a permanent resident unlike the mentally unstable, I wouldn't be here as long as them. I fear the man before me belongs to the former and maybe that's why I feel alienated in his presence, as if he's from the other side of the bordering town, we share similar land but we should never be considered the same.

"I lost my shit." I deadpanned as plainly as possible with eyes stretched far across the room, I laughed lightly to myself after replaying what I said in my head and laughed louder as I did once more, I clapped my hands together and sat down on a fixed seat, "I fucked up."

The mans full eyes trailed back over to me and he grinned again with an almost knowing expression spread across his features. "Haven't we all?" He paused momentarily, "haven't we all fucked up? Why else would we all be here?" He waved his arm around the now emptying room gesturing at the people and residents who were slowly being ushered out the door most likely back their rooms. I hummed at his questions knowing full well he already knew the answers to them. We're all and we all fucked up.

"Peter, time to go back now. You too Hal." Hal. I only just realised I didn't ask for his name. I watched him prop his arms up on the side of the seat to raise his body up, I remained seated as he did so. I saw his chest heave without rhythm at the sudden movement he had to endure and I finally watched as his legs slowly dragged him towards the door. "Peter, come on, up now please." The nurse began to approach me with a look of annoyance on his face and I glared at him, pulling up out of the seat myself. I stepped past him fast and I heard his sigh as I whisked away from the room.

"Hal, wait," I called out as we had entered the bright corridors, his body was already turning the far corner and I briskly jogged to catch up. "Hal! I'm sorry, I just wanted to ask you something? It's personal but I'm curious" My voice wavered and he stopped without turning around to face me and without saying a word.

"How did you fuck up?"

There was a few seconds before I heard him inhale deeply, I was worried I had crossed a line that shouldn't of been approached in the first place. That I had uprooted a tree than had been growing peacefully for years, it seemed like he had been here for years. Hal slowly turned and looked at me with those faded green eyes he wore so well, "My wife, she tells me things. She died so I killed a few people in return because she told me too, she tells me so many things." His eyes were sincere but mine grew wide, "She tells me that you're a good man, that I shouldn't need to kill you too. She also tells me that you shouldn't worry, he's okay."

Footsteps and jangling keys grew louder from behind me and I just stared at the man before me with speechless lips and saucer eyes, he remained with the sincerity and I couldn't quite process what he said before there was a heavy hand placed firmly on my shoulder.

"Rooms now! I will not repeat myself" I couldn't move. Hal looked behind me and hung his head low, he was muttering quietly to himself and I couldn't quite catch what he was saying but the hand squeezing my shoulder was starting to get to me and Hal's muttering didn't cease and the nurses voice pestered on and on telling me to get back to my room but I couldn't, I couldn't do that did they not understand? What did he mean 'he's okay'? Did he mean Patrick? How? That's not possible he couldn't know. The nurses hand tried shifting me to face him and his voice was still surrounding me but my body felt numb and my hands went cold quicker than my knees grew weak from underneath me, my chest was tight and this hand kept holding me, pushing me into the ground, the heaviest hand holding me down and I couldn't breathe and I couldn't see and the floor was grazing my cheek and —

"Come in unit 2, patient 81 stability breach, over"

— darkness. Patrick, where are you?

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I had the energy for a chapter of a story that no one reads anymore aye.
~shesmywinona27