We're Only Liars // Peterick

☆Thanks For The Memories☆

*So yeah HEY! Im back, I feel up to writing now, yay I think? idek, well im gonna try my best now and make these parts better than the last ones because they sucked penis. Okay? Okay. Ily my Munchkins, especially all the ones who gave me the sweet comments and enthusiasm to stay here and write*

Patrick's POV

I woke up too the sound of a phone obnoxiously screeching the high heavens down. That wasn't mine phone though, I knew my ringtone. The annoying phone brought me up from the cosy corner of the sofa, I glanced around to find its source. The noise came from the table, I watched it vibrate slowly in a cicle for a second before deciding to picking it up too see the caller id.

Meagan.

Who's Meagan? I know it wasn't my place to answer it but Pete was asleep. He rarely gets good night's so im not waking him up, he deserves sleep anyway. I didn't.

I slid the answer button and mumbled a croaky 'hello' into the speaker.

"Hi? is this, um, Pete?" A fairly sweet female voice questioned. She seemed shy, she didn't have any need to be shy. But who is she? And why is she calling Pete? He's never metioned her name to me before. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Oh sorry, yeah. Pete's alseep, I can take a message" I answered, my voice sounded terrible. I wouldn't be suprised if she thought I was some homeless man who mugged Pete for this phone.

"Okay, but no thanks. Um sorry to sound rude but are you Patrick by any chance?" How did she know who I was? I was quite scared at this point. Was she stalking us or something?

"Uh, how do y-you, no wait. What?" I was pretty dumbfounded.

"I probably sound like a freak, im so sorry. But no, Pete has told me alot about you that's all. But can you just tell him that I called, thanks Patrick." With that she hung up, I had so many questions. I was unbelievably confused.

I set the phone back down on the wooden table and stared into the early hours darkness of ou-my house. I could hear the faint breathing of Pete on the opposite side of the sofa. His complexion scrunched then relaxed. He was dreaming. I found myself smiling at that, I wondered what goes on his mind, all the memories and fantasies. All the sadness and joy. All the good and all the bad. He's had his ups and his downs in life, a fair share of each actually. I remember how depressed he became after 'Take This To Your Grave', he stopped everything. He stopped eating, talking, socialising, writing, bathing. He just fell apart around us.

One evening I received a phone call from his Mom, she said she found him unconscious is his car in a crumby carpark with his anxiety medicine along side him. I streamed out millions of unanswered questions on that call. She babbled about having no idea what to do even though it was straight forward. I told her to take him to the hospital, she simply cried into the phone about how her baby boy can't die that young. I cried with her. We literally cried until I forced her to hang up and get him help. That was so traumatic, especially when I saw him lying motionless on a hospital bed. The tragic mass of tubes flowing from all angles gave me shivers, I remember that I never once let go of his hand. Never.

Those memories sprung fresh tears to my eyes, a never ending wave of regret washed over my now shaking body. I wish I could've made those years better for him, I wish I was there emotionally and not just physically. I just let him wander on with no hope, I hate myself so much. I could've helped. I really could've.

Patrick, you're no help to anybody. A voice seethed in my mind, the burning sound that rattled my sub-conscience.

You drove him to suicide yourself, the dirt is on your hands. Karma came and got you though, didn't it? You should kill yourself. Maybe complete what Pete couldn't. Then you would help him. You have no idea how overjoyed he would be if he didn't have your pathetic face again. Go die, your worthless

Worthless, worthless worthless. That's all I am and all I'll ever be. Worthless.

My body seizured with sobs, I tried to stay quiet for Pete's well-being but it was just too much. I felt dead inside, absolutely stone cold dead. The numbness was unbearable. I just wanted to feel again, I wanted to feel anything but that ice which sat in my soul. The gulit, the regret, the selfishness, the point blank obnoxiousness. That's all that riddled my mind. The voices told me that I was worthless and they were right.

I ran to the downstairs toilet. Away from Pete, away from the dark, away from the thoughts, away from the voices. But unfortunately they always followed me no matter how hard I tried to push them out. They said I should finish what Pete started but only to myself, then Pete will be happy. Then I would help him like I've always wanted too. I will die. But not now, not just yet. Soon. Sorry Pete, but I want this done properly.

I locked the door. I walked around. I looked in the mirror. I turned away. I searched the cabinet. I lost all sense. I found what I wanted. I had no hope. I glanced down. I held on tight.

All I knew now was that I needed to feel again, and feel something was what I was going to do.

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*If that was short im very sorry, I know I always promise bigger ones. But oh well. Anyways can I just say Folie is my favourite album, I cant stop listening to it. THE AWESOMENESS IS REAL. Thanks.*

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Eybdoog,

-shesmywinona27