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---Patrick---

Underneath my skin, it hurts. It's always hurt so horribly but this time, it's so much worse. Everything hurts. My throat hurts. My legs hurt. My chest hurts. My back hurts. My arms hurt. My head hurts. It hurts to open my eyes... or attempt to at least. It all just kind of aches with a few sharp pains here and there. Especially in my chest as my breathing quickens.

Dad must have hurt me bad last night. Strangely, though, I can't remember last night. I remember the breaking of glass. Megan screaming, a phone call...

My eyes dart open, but that ceiling isn't mine. It's not cracked. That's not the ceiling I watched as Kevin hovered over me, breathless. This room has a clear roof, flawless... am I dead?

I can hear shuffling coming from beside the bed, but as I try to turn my head, I find it restrained tightly to the bed I'm laying on, and I begin to panic. I can't move. I'm trapped. Just like how Dad and Kevin trapped me. Pinning me against the wall and hitting me over and over again. My breathing gets faster, and I'm panicking more because I can't move. I'm closed in, and there's nowhere to go. I can't escape.

"H-hhh," I can't speak. My voice is whiny and sore, and my throat hurts.

"Hello there, Patrick," A man says. I try to turn my head again but it's pounding so much, and it's still restrained. I feel even more scared. I want to scream and bury my face in my arms. I'm terrified, and I want relief.

I want Gerard.

"Wuhhh..."

"Don't try to talk, your Dad caused some major damage to your throat, and it needs to heal. Here," The man does something, making me flinch but I can feel my head move better and my wrists are free from restraints I didn't realize were there. My breathing returns to normal as I move around, rolling my shoulders and looking down.

My heart nearly stops.

My scars are showing in the hospital gown. They're everywhere. The man can see them. If he's seen them then that only leads me to wonder who else has seen them. And if they see those, what else did they see? The bandages across my back? The ugly scars that have made their home on the soft skin? My misshapen stomach. The way my rib cage juts out. It's disgusting. I'm disgusting. I want to scream and cry. This can't be happening. Please, please, please.

"And this, too," The man hands over a notepad and pen which I immediately grab eagerly scribbling down words.

I need Gerard

The man looks up at me with those piercing green eyes but nods, "Of course. I'm Dr. Capaldi by the way."

Whatever.

He stands up and leaves, but as soon as the door shuts, I feel myself crumble. The silence in the room is broken by my quiet sobs as I break down into tears. This can't be happening. Please. This is embarrassing and, fuck, I don't even remember how I got here. I hurt. Gerard is probably pissed.

What happened to Megan? Is she okay? I remember her screaming and Dad yelling at me. I remember seeing her face for a split second. Pure terror etched on her regular innocent expression. Was she hurt?

What about Gerard? I know he's pissed. There's no way he couldn't be pissed. I'm such a fuckup. Oh god. Will he hurt me? Is he even here? How long was I out?

And my friends... how is Pete? Where's Brendon? Is Joe alright? Do they know I haven't been eating? Are they going to force me to eat now? They're going to start feeling sorry for me again just like Pete did... I don't deserve their sympathy... It's my fault... it's all my fault... and now I have to pay the consequences like what happens next.

I'm Not Okay (I Promise) • GeetrickWhere stories live. Discover now