Face Down ✓ | Patrick Stump

Chapter Twelve

Police departments intimidated me.

Seriously, though. With a bunch of cops in uniform swarming in an enclosed space, who wouldn't feel uncomfortable? Patrick was talking with a woman at the front desk, so I was left sitting alone in the waiting room.

I wouldn't let Ryan and Rose come with us, despite how Patrick argued having them give a statement would be beneficial to the case. But if a police station made me uncomfortable, it would make them absolutely terrified. Not to mention the fact that I didn't want them to remember a single detail of any of this. Bringing them to a police station would just add to that. I didn't want them growing up thinking that the people they love will hurt them. To add to my argument, not just one of them, but both of them had nightmares last night.

The scariest part of all of this was that it was happening way too fast. Sometimes my brain didn't even register where I was when I woke up, or why a guy was sleeping in my bed. And even though it was over two years ago, I still remember the day where I was sitting in pre-calc when my non-alcoholic, non-abusive mother told me that my father had been diagnosed with cancer.

"You okay?" Patrick returned from the front desk and was now sitting in a hard plastic chair, identical to the one I was sitting in beside him. I looked down and realized I had been opening and closing my phone repeatedly, something I did when I was anxious or nervous.

"This is all just happening way too fast," I admitted. "I can still remember the days before my father's cancer and my mother's addiction like it was just last week. And I'm so used to waking up in constant fear. That's why regardless of whether I'm having a nightmare or a peaceful sleep, I always bolt upright. And I've only known you for a little over there weeks and I already- I'm just not used to opening up to people like this."

Before Patrick could respond, an officer came over to us. "Mr. Stump and Ms. Black?" He read from a clipboard as we stood up. "A private investigator will speak with you now. If you would, please follow me?"

We followed him down a short, narrow hallway into a room with a couple of couches. Thank God it didn't look like some interrogation room, I probably would haves been too scared to say anything.

"Please, have a seat." A man said. We sat down on a leather couch across from him. "I'm Mr. Simmons, and I'm a private investigator, as you may already know. I have a lot of experience and I'm sure I can help you. What would you like to report?"

Oh, where do I begin? My father's cancer, my mother's addiction and abuse, me running away and being reported missing?

"I-uh.." I looked over to Patrick, my eyes asking him for help.

"It's okay, Ms. Black. Why don't you start from the beginning of everything?" Mr. Simmons suggested. I nodded.

"Well, a little over two years ago, my father was diagnosed with cancer. For almost two years he kept getting rumors and getting rid of them and it was a really hard time for my family. My twin brother and sister were only one when he was diagnosed. Meanwhile, my mother became addicted to alcohol. I ended up working multiple jobs to support us, and I never got to go to college. My father passed about six months ago. In January, my mother became... Abusive. It started with just hitting, but it escalated to full blown attacks pretty much every day. She never attacked my siblings, just hit them, and I normally hid them from her. Then, about three or four weeks ago, she drank and fell down the stairs and passed out. I packed and hot-wired her car and escaped to Chicago with my siblings. We lived in the subway until Patrick found me and I've been living with him ever since."

"Wow, that's quite the story-"

"I'm not done." I interrupted and he raised his eyebrows. "Right before I moved in with Patrick, my siblings and I were reported missing. Most likely, my mother sobered up for a day and is now looking for us. And since Patrick is famous, the press saw us together and they're eventually going to find out that I'm missing. That's why I'm here." I paused for a second before something dawned on me. "Holy shit, she knows I'm in Chicago. "

"Hey, it's okay. We'll be looking for her now." Mr. Simmons butted in. I nodded. "Have you reported this anytime before?" I shook my head. After my long description of what had happened, I was afraid I would just completely break down if I said too much.

"Now, you said she attacked you. Could you elaborate? Also, has she ever hurt you when she was sober?" He asked.

"I rarely ever saw her sober after my father passed, so no, only when she was drunk. And she would always do everything she could to hurt me, from hitting to kicking, to grabbing me by the hair and throwing me across the room. She would even throw things, once she threw a vase and missed, but one of the shards got lodged in my stomach. Oh, and she'd always break a beer bottle and cut me with it. She would occasionally throw it, and she almost always hit me over the head with it, causing me to black out. I have bruises and scars all over my body. I probably should've gone to the hospital, but I was too scared."

During my huge speech, Patrick kept tensing up. I looked over to find his face full of worry and hurt. This is why I never got close to people, I would end up hurting them, or more likely, they would end up hurting me. How my father hurt me by leaving, and my mother by abusing me. Or like how I failed to protect my siblings, no matter how hard I tried.

And now, by allowing Patrick to help me, I was hurting him. I was putting him and Pete and even Joe and Andy and Aaron in danger because my mother knew where to find me, and who I would be with.

I didn't realize I had begun to cry until Patrick rested a hand on my shoulder, slowly moving it in circles. I released a breath I didn't realize I had been holding and looked up at the investigator. "Sorry," I muttered.

"There's nothing to apologize for." He reassured. "I will file a case for you against your mother, if you want, you can have your brother and sister make a statement as well. A witness statement can help your case. Depending on how much evidence we can get, you might not have to face her in court." I let out a sigh of relief.

"What about me being missing?" I asked.

"Don't worry, I'll get it sorted out. Under the circumstances, you should be fine living where you are now. Speaking of which, you should be able to gain custody of your siblings, as you are no longer a minor." I nodded my head, relieved that they wouldn't be placed in foster care.

"And for your mother, she could face six to ten years in prison for abuse. Because we're dealing with three children, two of which are younger, she should have a longer sentence."

"Thank you so, so much." I practically praised this man for helping me.

"Of course. If anything ever comes up in the near future, here's my contact information." He handed me a business card.

"Thank you, thank you so much," I said once again as Patrick and I left the station. We had been there longer than I thought, as it was already night. Despite it being mid-June, it was still cold at night. Patrick wrapped his arm around me when he noticed I was shivering.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He stopped to look at me. "For what?"

"Everything."

I was gonna make them say always cuz I think it's adorable but they've said it like twice already so naw.

Sorry if this is short or has typos, I don't have wifi so I had to write it on my phone.