Joe was holding his head in his hands and was rocking back and forth, scared to death by whatever. I jumped around the corner, looking for Pete.
"Pete?" I called. Basement.
"Sydney," he coughed, "I- Something's wrong with me," his eyes watered, but turned solid black then red.
"Oh my god," I stepped back, looking at him in horror. His face was scared, his arms scarred.
"What the hell," he said, looking at himself, falling to his knees.
"Pete, what happened?" Before he could respond, Joe pulled me up the stairs.
"His past is back. All of his old feelings are returning. He'll be hating himself and changing for a while, we have to keep him locked up and padded down there. He'll be better in a couple of days," Patrick informed.
"The weapons..." Andy said. All of us looked at each other and ran down the steps, Pete sitting there with a knife in his fingertips.
"Stop," Patrick said, snatching it out of his hands. He begged and begged for it back, but we all were too busy stuffing bags with weapons and stakes to listen to him. I was nervous as hell. As we all walked upstairs, I heard Pete mumble something.
"Please don't leave me like everyone else," I stuttered for a second, trying to ignore it. It pained me to see him this miserable. Later on that night, I was looking forward to seeing Pete, maybe I could eat dinner with him!
"Where are you going?"
"Down to eat with-"
"No you're not," Patrick stopped me. "You can't. You aren't part of his past, it'll mess this whole thing up," he finished, looking dead at me.
"O-Oh," I replied, setting the food on the counter, running back to my room. It's so hard to love someone so much and have them ripped away from you. I cried, sitting there, looking at the TV that had a Pete camera on it, so if anything were to happen we would see. I looked up when blood was slowly dripping down his arms, and he was smiling wickedly. He looked up at the camera and made a heart on the floor, smiling wider. I turned my head to the side in confusion. He took his hands and wrapped them firmly around his throat. I jumped up, slamming against the door after falling off of my bed and I opened it quickly, trampling down the stairs as well, Pete lying there, unconscious.
"Pete! Pete, please wake up, please," I cried, resting my head on his chest and hearing a faint heartbeat. He blinked a little and I gasped, sitting up and looking at him. At that moment, the other guys came down, Patrick yelling in a rampage, but quickly stopping when he noticed what was going on.
"Pete, goddamnit. What did you do?"
"How old am I?"
"You're nineteen," he smiled.
"I'm caught up. I hate it, but I'm caught up. I forgot all about my past and now it's back- but it's okay now. Thanks guys," he replied. The three guys walked upstairs while I stayed back.
"I'm sorry," he cried.
"It's not okay. Don't you ever pull that shit with me again, you scared me," I looked at him sharply.
"I- I love you," I knew he felt weird being able to say that again.
"I love you too," I hugged him and we went upstairs.
