How to Not Fall For Patrick Stump For Dummies #Wattys2015

Chapter 10

"Em..." Patrick started, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I shook him off of me and moved away. His face melted as I turned to him. Tears were now starting to fall down my face. Still, I tried to hold myself together.

"Please-please tell me that this is a lie," I said and held my eyes tightly together.

He couldn't say a word.

I turned to the counter and leaned my arms on the top, running my hands through my hair. "H-How much money did you spend to try and cover this up?"

"Emerald..." Patrick tried again.

"Just tell me!" I shouted at him and clenched chunks of my hair.

"Somewhere...around fifteen thousand..." he answered with space between every word, like it pained him to say each of them.

I winced and choked back a sob.

"Emerald, what he wrote was true. I did this for both of us, so we're both safe from the press after the crash," he tried to explain.

"No you didn't," I spun around and growled. Standing in close proximity to him, I continued, "You did this for yourself to cover your reputation. You paid off some guy to keep the crash a secret. How's that working for ya, huh kidnapper?"

He was hit hard at the last part and looked to the ground. I almost felt bad for him.

The hate I had made for him before his concert built up inside me once again and came spilling out of my mouth.

"You weren't paying attention to the fucking road and hit my car. Then you come visit me in the hospital and cause a scene. Then you leave the face of the earth and forget about me to avoid the press only to come back later and sweep me off my feet? It doesn't work that easy Patrick."

"I-" he closed his eyes and started.

"No, just don't say anything. It was never about me. It was always you. You, you, you," I jeered and jabbed at his shirt, "You hit my car and left me alone like this to rot and hate myself more than I ever have. You acted like you didn't even know me after you were the one who left me in the hospital. You are the one getting something out of this money deal. You knew I couldn't fight this in court if no one knew about it and the press still loved you. Well guess what Patrick, that's not working out the best for you. You screwed up bad this time. Good going asshole."

I turned around and ran as fast as I could for the door, feeling pain shoot up my leg with every step. I heard him call after me, but couldn't bear to look or go back.

With a good yank on the door handle, I got his front door opened and didn't even bother to close it. My feet carried me out of his house.

There was a camera flash and I knew I had blown it. The neighbors were curiously looking at the house from their front porch. A group of cameras snapped my every move.

I tried to make a run out of his subdivision, but was stopped by another round of paparazzi. With tears streaming down my face and a clearly visible cast on my leg, I wasn't doing a very good job posing.

They instigated me, asking me questions like:
"Did Patrick Stump kidnap you?"
"Did he hurt you?"
"Are you two a couple?"
"How did you escape?"
"Why is your leg broken?"

It only made my tears fall faster. My head spun in circles and pounded against my skull as I tried to find a way out.

Patrick came running down the steps towards me, shouting my name and yelling at everyone to back away.

Three police cars, a fire truck, and ambulance came flying out of nowhere down the street. All of the cameras backed away as the wailing sirens caught their attention.

Two cops ran out of the first car, running past me. They tackled Patrick to the ground in front of me in horror.

"Wait!" he cried, "Please! Stop! I would never hurt her!"

My heart dropped into my stomach. Sure, I still hate his guts, but he was already in pain and didn't need this along with the publicity.

He was handcuffed and dragged towards the cop car. His eyes pleaded for forgiveness as his head was shoved inside.

The police car sped away and half of the cameras followed. The other half left stayed to watch the rest of the day play out.

My knees felt weak and my legs numbed up, thumping to the beat of my head. I felt myself falling and tried to balance, but fell back onto the concrete.

A team from the ambulance busted out of the door and ran at me. They shouted the cameramen away from me and started at it, attaching a tank and countless other things to me before lifting me up on a stretcher and loading me into the car.

I must've passed out in the ambulance, because I didn't remember a thing until I was back in my hospital room. The tv was giving a report, playing a video of what had just happened.

I groaned, alerting the nurse recording my data. "Turn it off," she ordered to the nurse behind her, who changed the channel shortly after.

The expected pain never came to my body, only my heart. I felt like I had been cheated by Patrick. I hated him, then loved him, then hated him again. Still, he didn't deserve to be in jail for something he didn't do.

The doctor came in later that day and admitted me from the hospital. There was nothing properly wrong with me except for the fact that my leg was broken. He prescribed pills to me and left me on my own.

I took a bus to the nearest stop by Patrick's house and walked inside. His door was left unlocked and I easily waltzed my way in. He was still gone.

Everything was just how we left it. The letter was still on the kitchen counter. I crinkled it in my hands and threw it into the trash. Tears stung my eyes again. I was tired of crying.

Guilt started to rise up in my chest. If I would've just talked it out, I could've found another way to sneak back to the hospital and act like I never left. Did I do that? Of course not. I made a scene and got poor Patrick arrested.

I found his keys on the counter and thought long and hard watching them for a solid minute. Grabbing them, I opened his garage and started the car, following the direction where the cop cars took Patrick.

~ JennaAmore