We Are: Hearts, Lies And Friends

Last Years Wishes, Are This Years Apologies.

*Petes POV*

We all think we know everything. We all think we know what's best for each other, and what feelings are justified and what aren't. We all judge and criticize and point out each others flaws. We all breathe the same air, but like to claim others are dirtier than our own. We'd all like to decide the rules of the world and not just follow them. We'd all like to be the worlds personal Bible. We are all hypocrites and victims.

We all like to think that everything is coming together. But really

We're all just falling apart.

We all know it. We've all talked about it, in silence. A shared silence. A sound that interconnects us with being human. Our ability to speak, without making a sound. We don't have to speak, utter a single syllable or even a movement to have a conversation with each other, we all just know. We are all hypocrites and victims.

We're all just falling apart.
Some of us are just falling a little faster than others.

These are all my thoughts as I stare down at the cold, hardened face of my husband. I can't stop thinking about the red river of blood which had pooled on the bathroom floor of our hotel room.

I keep staring at the milky white gauze wrapped tightly around Patricks right wrist. Or at least they had been milky white, before all the blood.

I have two stories to tell, so I guess I'll start with Patrick.

Patrick had really done some damage, not just to his body, but also to me. But of course the only reason he had even done any of this was because of me (or more specifically Ella) in the first place.

He lost a lot of blood and I mean a LOT. The doctor even told me that if he had lost 2 more pints of blood, he probably wouldn't have made it. 2 pints. That's how little it would have taken to take the Love of my life away from me forever.

The wounds were so deep, they ended up putting a few stitches in his wrist. The pain he'd be feeling right now would be far too great, so the doctor has him heavily sedated. He told me Patrick should wake up in a couple hours, and I refuse to leave his side. I've been sitting here, holding his hand, stroking his hair.

His face is a ghostly pale white, and his lips are pale pink. I long to hear those pale pink lips say my name when more time.

The doctor had to heavily sedate him and put him to sleep because of the pain. He should be waking up in a few hours and I'm gonna be right here when he wakes up. I'm not sure exactly what he'll remember or how he'll react, but no matter what, I can't loose him.

Now for Ella.

Yesterday after I found Patrick, I obviously rushed straight to the hospital. But as you may recall, I told one of the employees to call the police, and that is exactly what he did.

Throughout this entire experience, the highlight of my day, would have been to watch them lug her away in handcuffs. To watch her face as she knew this would be the last time she would see the outside world, at least for a long while. To hear her voice as she screamed in protest, kicking and fighting the whole way as she's dragged to the back of a squad car.

But as she was being lugged away, I was in the back of an ambulance, as my husband fought for his life. Japan and the U.S have the same policy on bribery, so Ella will be spending a pretty little penny worth of jail time.
In all honesty, Ella is a very pretty girl.

I'm sure they'll appreciate that in prison, I hope she enjoys being someones prison bitch.

I set my phone on the hardwood table next to me, as the echo of shoe soles grew louder in the hallway. I watched as the sharp silver doorknob twisted, letting in a wrinkled, tired looking older. man in a long white coat. A thick stack of papers in hand as he closed the door behind him, sealing us in the cold, white stained room.

"This is uhm," he cleared his throat, setting down the stack, "Patrick Stump, correct?"
"It's Wentz now. Patrick Wentz." Although after he wakes up and realizes how much he hates me, I thought dreadfully to myself it probably won't be Wentz much longer.

"Really? When did he change his name?"
"After we were married..."
"Oh! I had no Idea that... Well, anyway," he began flipping through manilla file, "it's about time for him to wake up."

Precisely every 7 seconds the computer moans a low, short beep. About every 4 seconds there is a new set loafers treading down the long narrow hallway, and every second there's a sharp tick of the clock on the wall. I suddenly become aware of all of these things as I try to distract myself from the thought that when Patrick awakes, he will hate every part of me with every fiber of his being.

And then I hear it. A groan, a low, deep groan, the same low, deep groan that I have grown accustom to hearing every morning. Groggy and tired and full of confusion.

"Wha... where-"
"Hello Mr. Wentz. I'm glad you're finally up. Do you know why you're here?"
Patrick winced at the pain shooting up his wrist, as he had just tried to push himself up right in bed, not realizing he had recently been stitched up.
"Careful! Careful!" The doctor said walking closer to Patrick, trying to help him sit up, "try your best not to move your wrist to much... Do you know why you're here?"

"Uhm. No. No, not rea-" For the first time, he glanced over to his right and noticed me. He blinked at me a few times, his lips parting slightly. I could practically hear the clank of metal machinery as the gears began to turn in his mind.

His previously expressionless face tightened, his jaw clenched.The look in his eyes was that of a deep sadness. A soul aching sadness, a look you only achieve by really, truly being hurt. But there were also little variations of other emotions too. The second most detectable emotion in his eyes was mostly anger. Not a gentile anger either, more of a "I hate you, I want to kill you anger." Although I can't really blame him. His eyes are practically burning through me.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your whore?"
"Patrick please just give me a moment to-"
"Give you a moment to what!? What could you possibly say to fix my shattered heart?"
"Patrick I promise you I have an explanation!"
"I don't care Pete! I really don't! There's nothing you could say to me right now, that could-" He stopped dead in his tracks, and stared at the man in the long white coat in front of him. I clear my throat, because he'd obviously not gotten the hint.

"Oh, oh. I'm so sorry. I uh. I'll come back in a few minutes." he said, heading for the door. Click. And now here I am, locked inside a sickly pale hospital room with my sickly pale husband.

"Patrick." I whispered so quietly that if the room hadn't been totally silent, it wouldn't had even been audible.
"Why are you even here!?"
"What do you mean 'why am I here?' I'm here because I Love you! I'm here because I care about you!"
"What do you mean you 'Love me'? YOU LOVE ME SO MUCH THAT YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH SOME FLOOZY ON OUR FUCKIN HONEYMOON? IS THAT WHAT LOVE IS? BECAUSE HOLY FUCKIN SMOKES I'VE HAD THE WRONG PERCEPTION THIS WHOLE TIME!"

"PATRICK YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO ME!"
"NO! FUCK YOU! I LISTENED ENOUGH AS I HEARD YOU MOAN FUCKING THAT SLUT!"
"I THOUGH RELATIONSHIPS WERE ABOUT COMMUNICATION!"
"I THOUGHT THEY WERE ABOUT LOYALTY AND TRUST! GUESS WE DON'T HAVE MUCH OF A RELATIONSHIP!!"

"Wha. What does that mean!?"
"Pete. I. I don't think I can do this anymore."
"Whoa, WHAT!?"
"You. Cheated on me. You broke my heart Pete. I gave you everything. My Love, all of my heart, my virginity, everything. And just like that, you threw it all away. And I don't think I could ever look at you, or wake up next to you every morning and not remember that I gave you my whole heart, and you broke it. I feel like someone ripped it out of my chest, right in front of my eyes."

"Patrick. Please," I could barley utter a word, my voice was shattered almost as much as my heart, "just let me-"
"No Pete. You need to go. Just. Just go."

I glanced back a final time, my hand on the cold metal knob that would seal the fate of my marriage forever. The cold, lifeless click taunted me. I swear I heard it whisper the word

Divorce.

We're all falling apart.
Some of us are just falling a little faster than others.