Remember me || Patrick Stump

Chapter Fifteen

"And then they just left," I explained, slurring over all if my words, "they left me there with her!"
Pete grabbed my arm and pulled me down so I was sitting in the couch.
"Patrick you need to calm down," he explained, reaching for my beer 4th bottle.
I grabbed it away before he could touch it.
"Maybe it just means they trust you with her, ya know? Like if they're letting-"
"It means that they're to scared to be there, and watch her die, pete. It means that they'd rather let me see her slip away. They're own daughter."
Pete's eyes widened, and I couldn't look at him. I had no idea why I'd said that. It was like I had no control over what I was saying. Maybe it was the four beers I had in the last hour, but whatever it was needed to stop.
I took another sip of my beer, and felt heat rushing through my veins. I was drunk. It was obvious, but it wasn't until now that it really stuck to me.
I was drunk, and I was supposed to be at the hospital with Annabel, the love of my life.
With out warning, I stoop up swiftly and felt the world spin around me. Everything was turning and turning, and I saw pete stand up too. The taste if bile rise in my mouth, and saw pete leave the room. Maybe he was annoyed with me. Or maybe he was going to see why the world was spinning. Neither. Within seconds, he was back, a mini garbage can, and I soon know why. Suddenly, I find myself hunching over the can, throwing up.
When I was done, I felt better, but I wasn't completely sober.
"Better?" Pete asked, his voice was calm, yet speckled with a drunken slur.
"Much," I say, massaging my temples. I could feel my hang over already starting.
"I should be there y'know." I didn't look at him as I said these words, my voice raspy.
"Where?"
"The hospital. With her. Waiting."
Pete shook his hard and sloppily laid his hand on my shoulder.
"Not like this pat. You look like shit"
I wanted to tell him that he didn't look so good himself, dark circles under his eyes, and the stench if alcohol in his breath. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't stay here with him for even a second longer, no matter how much I knew he needed me. Because someone else needed me more. Even though she couldn't say that, or even really think that, but I could tell. I could tell that she couldn't be alone. So I couldn't tell him the truth.
"You're right. I need some fresh air ok?"
He nodded, clueless.
I swiftly jogged down the stairs of his apartment and stood out side the building.
First, I took several breaths, and hit my hand off of the brick wall. Then I did it. I just ran. All the way to the hospital. I ignored all the cramps, and the pains and everything in my way. I knew what I needed to do. I knew that I needed to get to her, and as fast as I could.
As I ran, memories of our pasts held in my brain. Memories of that night when I kissed her, memories of us making love, my hands on her body, her lips pressed on mine. I thought of her sticking up for me, and I thought of our child hood, and how no matter what, she was there in my life. There was never a time where I didn't want her there. There was never a time where I didn't want her to be with me. There was never a time where I didn't want to tell her that I loved her. And I had. And she said it back, and we did. We loved each other, and I had her, and she gave herself to me, and we were eachothers. Except now it was gone. And now she might be gone. And I couldn't stand any moment with out her, awake or not. I couldn't loose any moment a had with her, or any moment I had left with her. I couldn't stand not having her hand in mine, limp or not.
And so I ran.
When I hit the hospital, I slowed, only jogging through the sliding doors. I was drenched in sweat, and I was given wild looks all over the room, but I didn't care. I explained to the nurse where I needed to be, and she nodded, and lead me to the room.
My heart was racing with anxiety. Was she awake? Or was she just a lifeless slumber, just as the lady time I'd seen her.
But by the time I got to her, the sight in her hospital room was for worse than I'd ever imagined.

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"What are you doing here?" I demanded, after the nurse slowly stalked away.
He started back at me, his eyes widened. I glided my own eyes down to look at the large bruise on his left jawline.
Brendon sat in a metal chair, next to Annabel's bed, his hand in hers.
"She moved today." He said, matter of factly.
"And you missed it."
His eyes traveled to her face, and sorrow filled them.
"What are you doing here??" I asked again, my voice more stern as I closed the door.
"Doing what you aren't. Waiting for her . Bring here for her."
Guilt singed inside me, but I pushed it away. It wasn't my fault I hadn't been here for days. It wasn't my fault that I was too damn scared.
"Waiting for what?" I asked him, staring back into his eyes. They looked as if they were black. "She might not wake up you know?" Shit. There comes the honestly of being drunk again.
Brendon glared at me, his empty eyes piercing into mine.
"You smell like alcohol you know. Drinking away the pain isn't going to hell you coward. She needed you and you weren't here. What kind of boyfriend are you? I thought you loved her."
He was only trying to hurt me. I knew this. But it was working. It was true. I had been a coward.
"You're right." I choked out.
And then I left the room.