Face Down ✓ | Patrick Stump

Chapter Twenty Four (Part Two)

I'm sorry, but I have decided that there will not be a sequel to this story. In a few chapters, it will be the end.

Dedication to takingmyhoplessheart because she read this all in two days and I did just take her heart away. Also, an apology to all of my readers who are emotionally stable because of this story. I'm sorry, but there's more to come.

"Mr. Stump?" A receptionist walked into the waiting room. The five of us jumped from our seats. "He's out of surgery and is allowing visitors. He's in room 301."  As soon as I heard the room number, I sprinted out of the waiting room, the others close behind. I reached the elevator and repeatedly hit the up button, in hopes that it would magically come faster because I hit it more than once.

"Skye, relax," Pete said. I turned around to face him and took a deep breath. I wiped my eyes, not even realizing that I had been crying again. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I didn't know what to say. The only thing that I knew was that I needed to see Patrick. He was alive, and that was enough to keep me from falling to the floor.

The elevator opened and we all crammed in. Joe hit the button for the third floor, but the elevator would not move fast enough. When the doors finally opened, 301 was directly in front of us. The door was open, and we all walked in. The bed was separated from the rest of the room by a curtain, and there was a nurse standing in the room.

"Is he okay?" The five of us said almost in unison.

"Well," The nurse began. "The surgery went well. He was shot in the head, and the bullet barely missed his brain. We were able to remove the bullet, and there was no brain damage. He also broke three ribs, and nearly punctured his lung. The bad news is that in order to speed up his recovery, we had to put him in a medically induced coma." And then she walked out, like this was stuff she said every day.

I involuntarily let out a whimper and fell into Pete's arms. A coma? We took a step closer to the bed and Joe pulled back the curtain, and I let out another involuntary whimper.

I couldn't look, yet I couldn't help but stare. A blood-soaked gauze was pressed to his forehead. His glasses were gone, and his hair was stained with blood. There were scratches, scrapes, and bruises all over his face. There was an IV in his arm, which was in no better state than his face. I couldn't see anything else, and I was glad I couldn't. This wasn't Patrick. It couldn't be. There had to have been some mistake. Right now, he was at home, watching baseball highlights, waiting for us to come home.

But this was him. There was no mistaking his dirty blonde hair, and his childish face. But now, I could never hear his laugh, or his voice, or see his blue eyes or feel his body pressed to mine or his lips on mine.

"I need a minute." I croaked and walked into the hallway. I leaned against the wall and let my back slide down it as I broke into a sob. It's crazy to think that just 6 hours earlier, I had told him that I loved him. I had felt his lips against mine, but I feared that I would never be able to again.

The one thing we can never get enough of is love.

And the one thing we never give enough of is love.

I walked back into the room and sat in an empty chair next to his bed. I grabbed his hand and didn't say a word. I was no longer hysterically crying, but the tears continued to flow freely down my face as I let out a sob every now and then. Brendon was nervously pacing on the other side of the room, on the phone with someone who I couldn't tell. Pete was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees, sobbing into them. Joe was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. He had his elbows on his knees,  his head in his hands. Andy was next to him, staring blankly at the wall. I couldn't imagine what they were going through. Brendon was one of his best friends and had known him for years. The rest of them have been his bandmate for god knows how long, and I couldn't imagine what they were feeling right now.