Insanity [Patrick Stump Fanfiction]

VIII

I could hear footsteps coming up behind me. I couldn't tell who they belonged to but the shoes were heavily slapping against the cement of the basement. They had Patrick again and I was trying to figure out a way to break him out of the torture room.

"Jordan? Is that you?" Maria asked, gently. 

"Yeah, it's me," I sighed. Maria and Dr Boroti stood behind me.

"Now I know you were lying, Jordan. One of the patients informed me of a conversation you had with Patrick about a week ago? About how I supposedly took over the building?" Maria snapped. I swear someone set a fire inside of her. "How could you trust a patient over your own boss? Is that why you were running around down here a while ago? You didn't come down here to find games for the patients. You wanted to find something to shut the place down with. How could you do something like that, Jordan?" Maria's face showed a mixture of betrayal, anger, and worst of all, her eyes were filled with the desire for revenge. I admit, I was terrified.

I calmed my nerve. "You're being hypocritical, you know that right? You're trusting the patients over me, now aren't you, Maria?" I snarled.

"I should just fire you!" Maria nodded to the surgeon. "But as you found out, we work a little differently around here." An impish smile spread across her face.

I felt a slight pinch on the side of my neck. Boroti pushed the plunger of the syringe down. A smooth, cold, liquid chilled my veins.

"You bitch, Maria!'' My vision began to blur. I jumped forward making grabby hands at Maria's throat but Boroti held me back. "What's your problem Maria?" I dropped to my knees, still restrained by the doctor. I started to cry. "Maria please," my voice softened and I took a beggar's approach.

"Goodnight, Jordan," Maria cooed. My knees gave out and I collapsed onto the floor. I felt paralyzed. I could still hear and think but I couldn't see or move. I couldn't fight back.

The doctor picked me up bridal style and carried me after Maria. My head fell to the side.

I woke up in a dark, damp, room. I was strapped down to a cream colored bed in the middle of the room. I could hear pounding and screaming on my door.

"Jordan! Jordan wake up!"

"Patrick," I whispered. My voice was hoarse and all I could get out was a choked out grunt.

"Jordan!" The pounding continued. The lock switched and Patrick burst though the door. "Come on!" He pulled a switchblade from the pocket of his jeans. "It always helps to carry one of these around," Patrick smiled. He sliced through the bindings that held my ankles down and finally the ones that held my wrists down.

Patrick helped me sit up at the edge of the bed. He wrapped his arm around my waist for support. "Can you stand?"

"Trick," I muttered. All I could say was his name. I couldn't form any other words which upset me.

"Yeah, it's me," he said gently. Even his tone of voice toward me softened. "Can you stand?" He repeated. I tried to but fell back against him. "Wheelchair it is."

He gently set me down in the cloth chair and pushed me down the hallway almost in a sprint. Somehow, we ended up at the front door. Patrick pushed me through the doorway like the doctors in actual hospitals did.

Patrick unlocked a car and loaded me into the passenger seat, then threw the wheelchair into the back. He jumped into the driver's seat and started the car. After we pulled away, Patrick checked me over for wounds and pulled onto the highway.

I woke up strapped to a bed. They even took my cellphone. I guess I'm not the activities manager anymore.

I'm a prisoner.