Logos Naki World - Chapter Nine
Title: Logos Naki World - Chapter Nine
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: Whatever cursing/mention of nudity is..
Summary: Sometimes all it takes
is the worst moments in life to make you realize just exactly what you
would do for something that means the world to you.
Disclaimer: the same as the rest of the chapters...
Notes: Second to last chapter
of this story guys. I warn you that you might want tissues and a
Patrick Plushie to cuddle. This is mostly very serious aside from what
Pete and Patrick tell you...
Notes #2: The mention of street names are real streets, but I have no idea if it's really a residential zone or not. For now, just pretend it is.
Dedications: To Petrick, to Brandie and to everyone who's read and reviewed and even participated in the poll. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!
“BURN RUBBER DOES NOT MEAN WARP SPEED!”
Okay, so I was overreacting a little bit. Andy wasn’t exactly speeding…
he was just hitting the gas pedal a little too hard when we had to turn
off West Belmont Avenue to pass the highway to get to West Montrose
Avenue.
“For your information, you want to get there quickly so stop being the pussy you act like half of the time.”
“Thought about the COPS?” Yeah… didn’t think about that…
“We’ll just have you do your humping thing you did last night to get us out of trouble.”
Excuse me!? I don’t recall having to be a slut to get out of bad
situations! I don’t get into them to get me out of them in the first
place! That’s Pete’s job! ‘But officer, we promise we’ll never do it again!’
And all he has to do is bat his eyelashes and the guy leaves us the
heck alone with what I assume that he’s just gotten the biggest BBS
(Blue Ball Syndrome) on earth. To which Pete will give us a smug look
and we’ll just keep on going. Behold the power of Pete.
“You’re looking ruffled. Calm down or you’ll start malting.”
I crossed my arms and gave him the ‘Heero Yuy Death Glare™’ I could hit
him now, or save it for when he really deserves it. I think now would
be totally more appropriate seeing as his driving just might KILL us
before we get to Pete.
I heard him sigh. I’m really not that mad at him, which means I won’t
hit him. I’m just really concerned and stressed out and his usual
comments are hitting nerves when they don’t mean to. Well maybe except
the slut thing. I haven’t boinked anyone – and yes jerking does not
count in the tallying of this.
I don’t think we could have any more conversation in the car for a
while. Well, things that wouldn’t strike some sort of nerve with me
right now. Not unless he finds the American Embassy within the dark of
Moria that can retrieve my humor.
No, sarcasm batteries are not included.
It was too quiet the rest of the way, but in a way I kinda liked it. I
got all introspective and blah blah blah with myself. But hey,
sometimes I just need those kind of things to take my mind off Pete and
other things.
[It’s like going into a nice
fantasy when I don’t want to think about those psycho photographers
that are always mentioned in punk slash fics (*one in particular Pete loves to talk about) that are always checking us out. It’s why my pictures usually turn out weird because he creeps me OUT!]
“We’re here.” It’s all he had to say. I don’t blame him. I betcha
anything I’ll find a way later today to make it up to him. Andy’s
really nice, maybe I’ll buy him a huge bag of chips for having to deal
with me and my crappy and stressed attitude over Pete.
I tapped my foot impatiently as we waited for the door to open. At
least the light was on, it was an indication that they were at least
here. I hope. If the bastard lied, I’m going to hunt him down and still
give him my WWP throw down. I will injure him and to make it worse –
throw lemonade at his face and pour that spicy salt stuff in his open
wounds should he have any.
I’ve been thinking some very evil thoughts. Please forgive me. When
people mess with Pete, they’re going to deal with a very unhappy
Patrick. This kind of Patrick will not be sorry or held responsible for
your stupidity and receiving end of all possible injuries in pissing me
off in the first place.
Then the door opened and it was the bastard. Just fucking great.
Be nice Patrick, or you might end up seeing a very hurt Peter. If he gropes you in anyway, all bets are off. Got it? Totally. Good, let’s go.
He offered his hand first to us. Probably some stupid custom of his
before letting people in his house I bet. It’s probably not even his,
he probably just killed the real inhabitants or something and stacked
them in the basement like Wadsworth wanted to do in Clue.
“Good morning.”
“Mornings are not good for me.” I snapped and held back from even
touching him. I tried. I really did, but I just want my goddamn Peter
Wentz back.
“Come in.” He nodded, moving to the left, leaving the space for us both
to come in, “We’re not properly introduced.” He added as he still held
his hand out to Andy. I can’t tell if Andy wass thinking of just
punching him out or actually going to shake his hand.
“It’s Andy.” He looked like he was going to try and break the guy’s
hand off during the ‘I’m going to shake your hand and hopefully injure
it in the process’ handshake. Andy’s just… well Andy.
He gestured us to table, which was less than ten feet from us and the
door. I didn’t want to stay here longer than I had to. I just wanted
Pete and get all of us the hell out of here. Not that the house was
creepy. Heck no, it had that odd cozy feeling. It’s the person inside
it that made it creepy.
It wasn’t more than two minutes after he closed the door, it was
slammed right back open and a girl came in carrying a bag looking
highly triumphant about something. This was probably the short sister
he mentioned earlier. Um, Penda. Yeah. Oh fucking lucky me.
After she sat the bag down on the table she gave him a happy chirp. He
moved into the kitchen area, which was on the other side of the room of
the table. She trailed after him with a something she pulled out of the
bag. She handed it to him before bouncing over and stopped.
“You never cease to make me happy!” She gushed out. She twirled around
several times before stopping and looking back between Andy and I.
I have a very bad feeling about this little…girl.
“Yes, they’re here to play.” He came back around with sliced Italian rolls and the contents from the jar spread onto it.
He offered one half to us and I quickly rejected. For good reason too.
No way was I going to go through that embarrassing and humiliating
moment in time again.
“It’s rather delicious – Nutella.” Whatever the hell that was, “It’s
the European equivalent of American peanut butter, except better.” So
why did it look brown? “Hazelnut and chocolate.” I swear he can read my
thoughts. It’s kinda creepy.
“They’re not hungry?” She sounded way too upset we declined.
“We ate before we came.” Andy shrugged her off. I think I’ll just use Andy as my bodyguard.
“Oh!” She happily chomped away on it till it was completely gone, “Then
that means we can play soon!” I don’t know what she means by play, and
I don’t want to really find out, but I want to see Pete first.
“You’ll see him Don’t worry. He’s in prime condition.” Prime condition
my ass - even if my ass is huge. And yes, I am being sarcastic… like
the comment I’m thinking of right now.
Penda hopped off from her chair, her skirt lifting and swaying with her
body as she bent down to hug her knees for a brief moment. “Can I go
get my toys first? I promise to be quick!”
“Yeah, sure.”
She squealed in happiness before turning to us both, “I just love Pete
so MUCH that I wanted to play with his favorite thing!” She took off to
run through the doorway going into the living room. One psycho down,
one to go.
“Toys?” Andy asked.
“Yes. Her… collection. She always plays with them.” He motioned to the stairs, “He’s down there.”
I stopped at the foot of the stairs, afraid to go down but I was also
extremely thrilled if he was down there. With the bit of light I could
see the outline of hands taped to the railing. I think my heart just
about shattered from relief. I think I just went to a very cold dark
place before snapping back into my body. Talk about out of body
experience while awake.
Then I felt small hands push me forward. I threw my hands out to catch
my fall but not in time. I was caught off guard and as if I was
watching it all in slow motion, I went down the stairs and smashed my
head against something at the very bottom. Everything went dark after
that.
***
The sound of thumping and squealing jerked me back from barely
conscious to complete awake. I’m serious when I say no mater what
happens I just can’t fucking SLEEP! Then the lights went on. Suddenly
things just went from me making jokes to serious trouble.
Patrick was lying on the floor by the foot of the stairs. Not awake. Unconscious.
Then Penda came downstairs, skipping with a roll of duct tape in her
hand. She gleefully went about taping his wrists – not behind his back
because that would be logical. Then she gave me a happy grin, “Wakey
wakey!” She waved at me before skipping back upstairs.
If I could, I’d try to get a conscious reaction from ‘Trick but that
would require me find a way to remove the duct tape across my mouth
without the use of my hands. I was only stuck listening to the noises
upstairs. At least Patrick hadn’t come alone, but I’m worried about
Andy too. Sure, he can defend his own nuts, but that doesn’t mean the
psychos here aren’t resourceful.
Then she came back down, her hands a little red already, which I can
only assume that something happened to Andy upstairs since it went
quiet. She dropped a little bag on the floor by Patrick. She rolled him
over, straddling him while digging through it. She pulled out a short
knife and held it up triumphantly. Not like a parrying knife, but it
was a little longer and a hell of a lot wider.
“Just love you so much, Pete! Wanted to play with him!” she looked at
me before she set about forcing his jaw open, “Just want to see the
pretty thing bleed! Wanted all your pretty things to go away. Go so far
away so I can keep you!”
Beyond help all right. It looked like one terrible horror movie in slow
fucking motion. The only problem was that I couldn’t help him. My legs
are not that long. Goddamn my shortness.
I was fucking forced to watch her hurt him. The blood pooling around
his mouth and the knife that she put in it, twisting it around. I swear
to god, the minute I get the duct tape off around my wrists, I will
hurt her just as much. She is messing with MY Patrick.
I watched helplessly as he started coughing around the blade, his body
jerking and twisting to force it out and so he wouldn’t choke on his
own blood. She pulled it back out and wiped the blade on her skirt. She
drove it into his left shoulder before he managed to twist enough to
cough the blood up and out. Kinda half vomiting red on the carpet. It
was really gross.
She dug into her little bag again and it dawned on me. She wasn’t just
out to hurt Patrick, she seriously wanted to mutilate him before she
murdered him. No, the blade in the mouth didn’t give me any indication,
did it? Like hell I was gonna stand for that!
My luck only changed when Patrick managed to throw her off. While he
tried to rip the tape off his wrists with his teeth, I tried like hell
to hold her between my legs. Wow that sounded so wrong. Probably looked
worse. Not to mention it hurt too. Her weight was smashing against
little Pete and his injuries and all I could do was let out a semi
muffled ‘OW!’ I could only take so much before I was forced to open my
legs and let her go. If I could, I would ball up now till the pain ran
away to snog someone else. Just not Patrick.
He lifted his head to look at me. The realization reached us both, I
think. Well maybe after he shakily pulled out the knife in his shoulder.
“What... the hell… did you… do… to Pete?” He barely croaked out. I
assume he could see where uh… psycho man got a little ‘injury happy’
with me. I feel like I’m hung like a beetle.
She turned to look at me. She looked a little upset when she turned
back to Patrick. I think he got the jest that she didn’t do it to me.
“PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETEEEEEEEE
I think my eardrum just fucking popped when she shrieked. I should have
asked for some ear protection. He didn’t warn me about his sister
having a high pitched voice like Brittany Spears when it’s very off
key. Ooookay not reliving that horror. I’m already living one horror as
it is.
Patrick worked his way over, blood just staining the shirt he was
wearing… which was mine. I liked that shirt too dammit. He manage to
grab my wrists and carefully try to cut me loose before she – in all
her god damn psycho tantrum – slammed her clean knife into the back of
his knee. You know the one he always taps his foot with while he sings.
He went down. In a way I’m glad it wasn’t his ankle or something.
Something that great of a shock value could probably paralyze him for
life – if he lives from this. Which I swear on my life he will.
He couldn’t get to the knife while she grabbed the other one that was
still in his hand. She just started jabbering about how much he
seriously can’t have me. That reference of possession is just… there IS
no word for it. I tugged and wrenched my wrists around since the tape
was partially cut. I know I can get free.
Except by the time I finally forced the tape to rip more and my wrists
came free she’d dug the knife a sixth time into him as he bucked
against her and tried to defend himself with his arms. I will never
ever know how the hell he can put up with all that pain just for… me.
I grabbed her by the waist and tried to hall her away from him. The
movement with my knees was fucking killing my parts and if she kicked
me I can guarantee I would vomit and probably pee red on her carpet –
and possibly on her. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. It was better
than her going at it with Patrick.
“MINEMINEMINE! CAN’T HAVE HIM!” She shrieked, “NOT PRETTY!”
“Jesus, kid. I’m not dating anyone. I’m single because I pee on
people.” I grunted as she struggled against me. I must not have noticed
the damn knife slicing into me because there was already so much blood
on it that I guess I must not have felt it.
“GONNA PLAY TILL HE CAN’T ANYMORE!”
She was right about one thing. He couldn’t protect himself. He probably
already lost enough blood as it was. I liked those pants on him too.
Why does everything I like seemed to be ruined as of late!? What the
hell does the Man Upstairs have against me right now!? I DIDN’T PEE ON
HIM!
I fell backward when she used all her weight to throw my balance. She went
down with me and yeah, smashed me again. I’m just glad I pay attention
to the things the bastard leaves behind down here. Like the gun wedged
between the seats of the couch. I’ve never used one, but I think I
could get her attention faster than anything. Hell, maybe I can even
get my phone long enough to get a fucking ambulance here.
I quickly searched for it, groping blindly while trying to keep her at
least arms length away from any part of Patrick while he tried to move.
I had to let go of her leg when my hand found it. There was a wet
muffled scream, when I turned around with the gun cocked.
She didn’t have to stab him in person. She must have been in a Darts
club. Cause that bloody fucker was embedded into Patrick’s side. I
aimed off to the side and fired and aimed it back at her when she
flipped over and sat up all wide eyed.
“This sick game is fucking over.” I had to brace myself against the
couch or I would fall over because my legs would give out. “I don’t
care if you hate him and I care about him. If you don’t back the fuck
off, I can end it all right here.” I moved the gun’s position against
to my temple.
I was bluffing. I was really good at bluffing. How else could I win
playing strip poker with everyone else? But if it had to come down to
that, I probably would pull the trigger on myself. I’d probably miss,
but I’d hurt myself pretty good in the process.
“My god, are you twelve?” I swear her tantrums marked her being a way early age.
“She’s eighteen.” I knew that voice belonged to an asshole. But her
being eighteen? Pfft. That I don’t believe. A girl that short cannot be
eighteen unless she’s a tall midget. And she’s not.
Then the door slammed open with a bunch of voices upstairs. I hope this
marked for cavalry back-up. Considering Joe wasn’t here, I bet he was
getting the backup. God I hope so. I don’t think I could handle both of
them and trying to drag a very injured Patrick upstairs. Speaking of
him, he was back to vomiting and coughing more blood. And just because
she deserved it, I didn’t smack her, I fucking punched her in the face.
“Down here!”
Yep. Good ol’ Joe. I bet he had a ball trying to tell them what the
hell was going on and getting them to believe him. But he must have
succeeded because then a trample of footsteps came down, slamming the
guy against the wall and cuffing him. The others swarmed toward the
psycho girl and me.
I automatically dropped the gun, raised a hand and covered myself. It’s
not that I’m ashamed of being naked. It’s just that I mind if I’m naked
around people I don’t know. Joe saved my ass from probably being cuffed
when he and Andy both came down, telling the cops that I was a victim
supporting my right to defend Patrick and myself.
“Peter Harper, you are under arrest for the murder of seven men and two accounts of attempted murder.”
(*one in particular Pete loves to talk about) - Dedication reference to my favorite PxP fic: Take Me To A Place Called Home
Chapter Eight
Chapter Seven
Chapter Six
Chapter Five
Chapter Four B
Chapter Four A
Chapter Three
Chapter Two
Chapter One
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: Whatever cursing/mention of nudity is..
Summary: Sometimes all it takes
is the worst moments in life to make you realize just exactly what you
would do for something that means the world to you.
Disclaimer: the same as the rest of the chapters...
Notes: Second to last chapter
of this story guys. I warn you that you might want tissues and a
Patrick Plushie to cuddle. This is mostly very serious aside from what
Pete and Patrick tell you...
Notes #2: The mention of street names are real streets, but I have no idea if it's really a residential zone or not. For now, just pretend it is.
Dedications: To Petrick, to Brandie and to everyone who's read and reviewed and even participated in the poll. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!
“BURN RUBBER DOES NOT MEAN WARP SPEED!”
Okay, so I was overreacting a little bit. Andy wasn’t exactly speeding…
he was just hitting the gas pedal a little too hard when we had to turn
off West Belmont Avenue to pass the highway to get to West Montrose
Avenue.
“For your information, you want to get there quickly so stop being the pussy you act like half of the time.”
“Thought about the COPS?” Yeah… didn’t think about that…
“We’ll just have you do your humping thing you did last night to get us out of trouble.”
Excuse me!? I don’t recall having to be a slut to get out of bad
situations! I don’t get into them to get me out of them in the first
place! That’s Pete’s job! ‘But officer, we promise we’ll never do it again!’
And all he has to do is bat his eyelashes and the guy leaves us the
heck alone with what I assume that he’s just gotten the biggest BBS
(Blue Ball Syndrome) on earth. To which Pete will give us a smug look
and we’ll just keep on going. Behold the power of Pete.
“You’re looking ruffled. Calm down or you’ll start malting.”
I crossed my arms and gave him the ‘Heero Yuy Death Glare™’ I could hit
him now, or save it for when he really deserves it. I think now would
be totally more appropriate seeing as his driving just might KILL us
before we get to Pete.
I heard him sigh. I’m really not that mad at him, which means I won’t
hit him. I’m just really concerned and stressed out and his usual
comments are hitting nerves when they don’t mean to. Well maybe except
the slut thing. I haven’t boinked anyone – and yes jerking does not
count in the tallying of this.
I don’t think we could have any more conversation in the car for a
while. Well, things that wouldn’t strike some sort of nerve with me
right now. Not unless he finds the American Embassy within the dark of
Moria that can retrieve my humor.
No, sarcasm batteries are not included.
It was too quiet the rest of the way, but in a way I kinda liked it. I
got all introspective and blah blah blah with myself. But hey,
sometimes I just need those kind of things to take my mind off Pete and
other things.
[It’s like going into a nice
fantasy when I don’t want to think about those psycho photographers
that are always mentioned in punk slash fics (*one in particular Pete loves to talk about) that are always checking us out. It’s why my pictures usually turn out weird because he creeps me OUT!]
“We’re here.” It’s all he had to say. I don’t blame him. I betcha
anything I’ll find a way later today to make it up to him. Andy’s
really nice, maybe I’ll buy him a huge bag of chips for having to deal
with me and my crappy and stressed attitude over Pete.
I tapped my foot impatiently as we waited for the door to open. At
least the light was on, it was an indication that they were at least
here. I hope. If the bastard lied, I’m going to hunt him down and still
give him my WWP throw down. I will injure him and to make it worse –
throw lemonade at his face and pour that spicy salt stuff in his open
wounds should he have any.
I’ve been thinking some very evil thoughts. Please forgive me. When
people mess with Pete, they’re going to deal with a very unhappy
Patrick. This kind of Patrick will not be sorry or held responsible for
your stupidity and receiving end of all possible injuries in pissing me
off in the first place.
Then the door opened and it was the bastard. Just fucking great.
Be nice Patrick, or you might end up seeing a very hurt Peter. If he gropes you in anyway, all bets are off. Got it? Totally. Good, let’s go.
He offered his hand first to us. Probably some stupid custom of his
before letting people in his house I bet. It’s probably not even his,
he probably just killed the real inhabitants or something and stacked
them in the basement like Wadsworth wanted to do in Clue.
“Good morning.”
“Mornings are not good for me.” I snapped and held back from even
touching him. I tried. I really did, but I just want my goddamn Peter
Wentz back.
“Come in.” He nodded, moving to the left, leaving the space for us both
to come in, “We’re not properly introduced.” He added as he still held
his hand out to Andy. I can’t tell if Andy wass thinking of just
punching him out or actually going to shake his hand.
“It’s Andy.” He looked like he was going to try and break the guy’s
hand off during the ‘I’m going to shake your hand and hopefully injure
it in the process’ handshake. Andy’s just… well Andy.
He gestured us to table, which was less than ten feet from us and the
door. I didn’t want to stay here longer than I had to. I just wanted
Pete and get all of us the hell out of here. Not that the house was
creepy. Heck no, it had that odd cozy feeling. It’s the person inside
it that made it creepy.
It wasn’t more than two minutes after he closed the door, it was
slammed right back open and a girl came in carrying a bag looking
highly triumphant about something. This was probably the short sister
he mentioned earlier. Um, Penda. Yeah. Oh fucking lucky me.
After she sat the bag down on the table she gave him a happy chirp. He
moved into the kitchen area, which was on the other side of the room of
the table. She trailed after him with a something she pulled out of the
bag. She handed it to him before bouncing over and stopped.
“You never cease to make me happy!” She gushed out. She twirled around
several times before stopping and looking back between Andy and I.
I have a very bad feeling about this little…girl.
“Yes, they’re here to play.” He came back around with sliced Italian rolls and the contents from the jar spread onto it.
He offered one half to us and I quickly rejected. For good reason too.
No way was I going to go through that embarrassing and humiliating
moment in time again.
“It’s rather delicious – Nutella.” Whatever the hell that was, “It’s
the European equivalent of American peanut butter, except better.” So
why did it look brown? “Hazelnut and chocolate.” I swear he can read my
thoughts. It’s kinda creepy.
“They’re not hungry?” She sounded way too upset we declined.
“We ate before we came.” Andy shrugged her off. I think I’ll just use Andy as my bodyguard.
“Oh!” She happily chomped away on it till it was completely gone, “Then
that means we can play soon!” I don’t know what she means by play, and
I don’t want to really find out, but I want to see Pete first.
“You’ll see him Don’t worry. He’s in prime condition.” Prime condition
my ass - even if my ass is huge. And yes, I am being sarcastic… like
the comment I’m thinking of right now.
Penda hopped off from her chair, her skirt lifting and swaying with her
body as she bent down to hug her knees for a brief moment. “Can I go
get my toys first? I promise to be quick!”
“Yeah, sure.”
She squealed in happiness before turning to us both, “I just love Pete
so MUCH that I wanted to play with his favorite thing!” She took off to
run through the doorway going into the living room. One psycho down,
one to go.
“Toys?” Andy asked.
“Yes. Her… collection. She always plays with them.” He motioned to the stairs, “He’s down there.”
I stopped at the foot of the stairs, afraid to go down but I was also
extremely thrilled if he was down there. With the bit of light I could
see the outline of hands taped to the railing. I think my heart just
about shattered from relief. I think I just went to a very cold dark
place before snapping back into my body. Talk about out of body
experience while awake.
Then I felt small hands push me forward. I threw my hands out to catch
my fall but not in time. I was caught off guard and as if I was
watching it all in slow motion, I went down the stairs and smashed my
head against something at the very bottom. Everything went dark after
that.
***
The sound of thumping and squealing jerked me back from barely
conscious to complete awake. I’m serious when I say no mater what
happens I just can’t fucking SLEEP! Then the lights went on. Suddenly
things just went from me making jokes to serious trouble.
Patrick was lying on the floor by the foot of the stairs. Not awake. Unconscious.
Then Penda came downstairs, skipping with a roll of duct tape in her
hand. She gleefully went about taping his wrists – not behind his back
because that would be logical. Then she gave me a happy grin, “Wakey
wakey!” She waved at me before skipping back upstairs.
If I could, I’d try to get a conscious reaction from ‘Trick but that
would require me find a way to remove the duct tape across my mouth
without the use of my hands. I was only stuck listening to the noises
upstairs. At least Patrick hadn’t come alone, but I’m worried about
Andy too. Sure, he can defend his own nuts, but that doesn’t mean the
psychos here aren’t resourceful.
Then she came back down, her hands a little red already, which I can
only assume that something happened to Andy upstairs since it went
quiet. She dropped a little bag on the floor by Patrick. She rolled him
over, straddling him while digging through it. She pulled out a short
knife and held it up triumphantly. Not like a parrying knife, but it
was a little longer and a hell of a lot wider.
“Just love you so much, Pete! Wanted to play with him!” she looked at
me before she set about forcing his jaw open, “Just want to see the
pretty thing bleed! Wanted all your pretty things to go away. Go so far
away so I can keep you!”
Beyond help all right. It looked like one terrible horror movie in slow
fucking motion. The only problem was that I couldn’t help him. My legs
are not that long. Goddamn my shortness.
I was fucking forced to watch her hurt him. The blood pooling around
his mouth and the knife that she put in it, twisting it around. I swear
to god, the minute I get the duct tape off around my wrists, I will
hurt her just as much. She is messing with MY Patrick.
I watched helplessly as he started coughing around the blade, his body
jerking and twisting to force it out and so he wouldn’t choke on his
own blood. She pulled it back out and wiped the blade on her skirt. She
drove it into his left shoulder before he managed to twist enough to
cough the blood up and out. Kinda half vomiting red on the carpet. It
was really gross.
She dug into her little bag again and it dawned on me. She wasn’t just
out to hurt Patrick, she seriously wanted to mutilate him before she
murdered him. No, the blade in the mouth didn’t give me any indication,
did it? Like hell I was gonna stand for that!
My luck only changed when Patrick managed to throw her off. While he
tried to rip the tape off his wrists with his teeth, I tried like hell
to hold her between my legs. Wow that sounded so wrong. Probably looked
worse. Not to mention it hurt too. Her weight was smashing against
little Pete and his injuries and all I could do was let out a semi
muffled ‘OW!’ I could only take so much before I was forced to open my
legs and let her go. If I could, I would ball up now till the pain ran
away to snog someone else. Just not Patrick.
He lifted his head to look at me. The realization reached us both, I
think. Well maybe after he shakily pulled out the knife in his shoulder.
“What... the hell… did you… do… to Pete?” He barely croaked out. I
assume he could see where uh… psycho man got a little ‘injury happy’
with me. I feel like I’m hung like a beetle.
She turned to look at me. She looked a little upset when she turned
back to Patrick. I think he got the jest that she didn’t do it to me.
“PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETEEEEEEEE
I think my eardrum just fucking popped when she shrieked. I should have
asked for some ear protection. He didn’t warn me about his sister
having a high pitched voice like Brittany Spears when it’s very off
key. Ooookay not reliving that horror. I’m already living one horror as
it is.
Patrick worked his way over, blood just staining the shirt he was
wearing… which was mine. I liked that shirt too dammit. He manage to
grab my wrists and carefully try to cut me loose before she – in all
her god damn psycho tantrum – slammed her clean knife into the back of
his knee. You know the one he always taps his foot with while he sings.
He went down. In a way I’m glad it wasn’t his ankle or something.
Something that great of a shock value could probably paralyze him for
life – if he lives from this. Which I swear on my life he will.
He couldn’t get to the knife while she grabbed the other one that was
still in his hand. She just started jabbering about how much he
seriously can’t have me. That reference of possession is just… there IS
no word for it. I tugged and wrenched my wrists around since the tape
was partially cut. I know I can get free.
Except by the time I finally forced the tape to rip more and my wrists
came free she’d dug the knife a sixth time into him as he bucked
against her and tried to defend himself with his arms. I will never
ever know how the hell he can put up with all that pain just for… me.
I grabbed her by the waist and tried to hall her away from him. The
movement with my knees was fucking killing my parts and if she kicked
me I can guarantee I would vomit and probably pee red on her carpet –
and possibly on her. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. It was better
than her going at it with Patrick.
“MINEMINEMINE! CAN’T HAVE HIM!” She shrieked, “NOT PRETTY!”
“Jesus, kid. I’m not dating anyone. I’m single because I pee on
people.” I grunted as she struggled against me. I must not have noticed
the damn knife slicing into me because there was already so much blood
on it that I guess I must not have felt it.
“GONNA PLAY TILL HE CAN’T ANYMORE!”
She was right about one thing. He couldn’t protect himself. He probably
already lost enough blood as it was. I liked those pants on him too.
Why does everything I like seemed to be ruined as of late!? What the
hell does the Man Upstairs have against me right now!? I DIDN’T PEE ON
HIM!
I fell backward when she used all her weight to throw my balance. She went
down with me and yeah, smashed me again. I’m just glad I pay attention
to the things the bastard leaves behind down here. Like the gun wedged
between the seats of the couch. I’ve never used one, but I think I
could get her attention faster than anything. Hell, maybe I can even
get my phone long enough to get a fucking ambulance here.
I quickly searched for it, groping blindly while trying to keep her at
least arms length away from any part of Patrick while he tried to move.
I had to let go of her leg when my hand found it. There was a wet
muffled scream, when I turned around with the gun cocked.
She didn’t have to stab him in person. She must have been in a Darts
club. Cause that bloody fucker was embedded into Patrick’s side. I
aimed off to the side and fired and aimed it back at her when she
flipped over and sat up all wide eyed.
“This sick game is fucking over.” I had to brace myself against the
couch or I would fall over because my legs would give out. “I don’t
care if you hate him and I care about him. If you don’t back the fuck
off, I can end it all right here.” I moved the gun’s position against
to my temple.
I was bluffing. I was really good at bluffing. How else could I win
playing strip poker with everyone else? But if it had to come down to
that, I probably would pull the trigger on myself. I’d probably miss,
but I’d hurt myself pretty good in the process.
“My god, are you twelve?” I swear her tantrums marked her being a way early age.
“She’s eighteen.” I knew that voice belonged to an asshole. But her
being eighteen? Pfft. That I don’t believe. A girl that short cannot be
eighteen unless she’s a tall midget. And she’s not.
Then the door slammed open with a bunch of voices upstairs. I hope this
marked for cavalry back-up. Considering Joe wasn’t here, I bet he was
getting the backup. God I hope so. I don’t think I could handle both of
them and trying to drag a very injured Patrick upstairs. Speaking of
him, he was back to vomiting and coughing more blood. And just because
she deserved it, I didn’t smack her, I fucking punched her in the face.
“Down here!”
Yep. Good ol’ Joe. I bet he had a ball trying to tell them what the
hell was going on and getting them to believe him. But he must have
succeeded because then a trample of footsteps came down, slamming the
guy against the wall and cuffing him. The others swarmed toward the
psycho girl and me.
I automatically dropped the gun, raised a hand and covered myself. It’s
not that I’m ashamed of being naked. It’s just that I mind if I’m naked
around people I don’t know. Joe saved my ass from probably being cuffed
when he and Andy both came down, telling the cops that I was a victim
supporting my right to defend Patrick and myself.
“Peter Harper, you are under arrest for the murder of seven men and two accounts of attempted murder.”
(*one in particular Pete loves to talk about) - Dedication reference to my favorite PxP fic: Take Me To A Place Called Home
Chapter Eight
Chapter Seven
Chapter Six
Chapter Five
Chapter Four B
Chapter Four A
Chapter Three
Chapter Two
Chapter One