Face Down ✓ | Patrick Stump

Chapter Thirteen

Dedicated to falloutfictionx! Thanks for reading, enjoy this next chapter!

I bolted upright out of my sleep for what seemed to be the third time tonight.

"Skye, are you sure you're okay? Ever since we reported your mother, you seem to be getting worse, instead of better. Is there something I should know about?"

I sighed, trying to rid my memory of the endless nightmares that haunted me as I slept. They were no longer just flashbacks of her abuse, but they seemed to predict the future. She knew I was in Chicago by now, there was no doubt about that. She would find me eventually, and once she did, it was likely that she would try to kill me. If not me, then Ryan or Rose.

Or anyone else that tried to get in her way. Patrick. I looked over at him and regretted it almost instantly. His face was full of worry and concern. I was hurting him by just being in his presence. I bit my lip to hold back a cry. I had to get my own apartment, I couldn't put him and Pete in any more danger than they already were. I had been staying with them for almost a month now, and it was just a matter of time before one of us got severely hurt.

"Skye-"

"Can we talk about it tomorrow morning? I'm really tired and I-l"

"No, enough of this bullshit. You're going to tell me what's wrong, and you're going to tell me right now." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I hate seeing you like this."

I played with my thumbs before answering him. "She knows I'm in Chicago," I whispered. "She has to. Even if she doesn't follow the media, I live in a small town, everybody knows everyone. Someone would have seen me, and they would have told her."

He wrapped an arm around me, sitting up. "I won't let her get to you, I promise."

I shook my head. "That's the thing, she won't let anyone get in her way. You don't deserve to get hurt, Patrick. I would never forgive myself if you did." I heard my phone buzz with a new text from my nightstand. It was probably Aaron and his obnoxious bad puns he sent me when he was bored.

Patrick reached for my phone. "Ignore it," I mumbled. "The text will still be there in the morning."

He sighed. "Goodnight, again, Skye."

-------

7 unread messages from Mom

My heart sank as I read those five words.

A lot of things can be said using five words.

Some of them can bring joy, such as *insert name here*, will you marry me?

Some of them can bring sadness, such as Dad was diagnosed with cancer.

And some can be absolutely terrifying, such as those five words that flashed across my phone screen.

I ran into the living room, where Patrick and Pete were watching a baseball game, even though they weren't paying much attention, as the Cubs were loosing badly.

"I can't fucking do this anymore." My voice cracked at the end of my sentence. Patrick and Pete turned around with worried expressions. "My mom texted me seven times," I whispered. "I haven't opened them yet."

I sat down on the couch opposite them and stared at my phone awaiting a response. When I didn't get one, I went ahead and read the messages.

How many times have I told you that you can't get rid of me, Skye darling?

I was better off without you, oh how could I have not thought about this earlier? It's a shame that you don't know how to keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut.