Everyone Deserves The Flame (Adopted By Patrick Stump)

The (After) Life Of The Party (Iris's P.O.V)

"What is your favourite animal?" Declan asked while he played with my pillows on my bed. He had been asking me questions since we started walking up the stairs. I had answered the oddest questions. What is your shoe size? Eight. Have you ever down a backflip before? Tried, and failed. Have you ever done a front flip? Yes, but never landed on my feet, only my butt.

"A wolf." I answered honestly. I felt my thirst grow dry, and I realized I needed a drink of water. I watched as Declan still played with my pillows. Surely he'd be okay if I left him for a few minutes while I got something to drink.

"Hey Dec, is there anywhere else with cups, where I can get a drink?" I asked. Declan looked at me and furrowed his eye brows before shaking his head no.

"Only the kitchen." He smiled. I really didn't want to interrupt Pete, and Patrick's conversation. But my throat was so dry.  I need something to drink. I hadn't had anything since we left the orphanage last night. I slowly walked down the stairs stoping when I heard them talking.

"She's only fourteen. She's so young." I over heard Pete say. 

"Yes, I get that. Maybe there's a way we can get her to a doctor or something." Patrick muttered. No, oh no.

"If she doesn't want to go you might have to force her. And you might lose some trust there. If you already find you're having trust issues, maybe it's not the best." Please listen to him. I really don't want to see someone about my issues. That's the last thing I want.

"I'm just so lost. She won't tell me what happened with her father. All I know is her mom left, and dad beat her. That's it. I don't know how bad it was. Anything. I just want something."  I don't know how to tell you. I don't know what to say. For so long I've kept it bottled up. I don't know how to let it out.

"What did you say you saw on her wrists?" My hand instantly went to my wrists. I gripped on to them like my life was on the line. Pinching marks.

"Pinching marks. She pinches herself. Instead of cutting. I don't know which is worse. Because cutting, I can take away the weapon. Pinching, I can't take away her fingers." Cutting's worse.

"Cutting, she could die from that. Maybe I could go talk to her." I don't want to talk. Not now. Not ever.

"You could." Please tell me I just imagined that.

I heard them walking towards the living room, so I silently ran up the stairs into my bedroom. It felt odd calling it mine. It didn't feel like I belonged here. But it was mine. It had my clothes. My stuff. It was mine for now.

"Hey do you mind if we talk?" Pete asked knocking on the open door. Declan walked out of the room after he asked me a question, I wasn't listening very well, Pete kind of saved me from having to ask what Declan asked.

"Not really." I answered, putting the pillows back to how I liked them.

"You were in the orphanage since you were ten, right?" Pete asked. I sat on my bed, while Pete sat in the chair to my desk.

"Right." I answered, keeping my answer as short as possible. I really didn't want to talk about anything at the moment. I also didn't want to give more information than I had to.

"How did you end up in there?" He asked, taking a guitar pick, tossing it into the air, and catching it again.

"Mom left when I was five, and my dad was abusive." I answered still keeping my answers short.

"What all did your dad do?" He asked. I shook my head. And hopped off the bed.

"I really don't want to talk about it." I muttered holding my hands behind my back that way he didn't notice how bad they were shaking.