Adrenaline Sisters// fall out boy & my chemical romance

Chapter 35: Behind My Back I Already Am

|| First Person || Bomb Sunshine ||

The van remains quiet, only the hum of the vehicle eating away at California's desert sounding. I keep my attention at my twitching hands, remembering they were the same ones to kill the Draculoids. A part of my mind wonders about the life the faces behind the masks had before their soul was stolen; the other part of my mind wants to argue that it was self defense.

I could have saved them, I think to myself. I don't know how, but I certainly didn't want to kill anyone. Even if they were after to kill me. My head spins and I can hear faint breathing as my heartbeat thumps loudly in my ears, much like the heavy drums in the songs we sang along to. It takes me a moment to realize that the slight wheezing is coming from me. A scream wants to crawl from my throat, but I try to force it down. A whimper manages to escape and a form crawls towards me.

"Hey, Bomb," Patrick whispers worriedly. "Bomb, what's wrong?"

I look up at the boy. Tears burn in my eyes as I look into his deep blue ones. He claims his seat in front of me, leaving several inches between us. He takes my shaking hands into his pale, steady one and rests them on his leg.

"Bomb, hon, what's the matter?" he asks again. I want to answer Patrick, but I can't seem to force a sound out. Patrick brushes my hair away from my face, resting his hand on my cheek. His thumb creates small patterns in an attempt to calm me down. I find a bit of comfort in his palm, slowly regaining my breath. My senses return to me and I feel the van come to a stop.

"Wh-Why are we stopping?" I rasp. Patrick presses his lips against my forehead for a moment before answering.
"It's nothing you should worry about, alright?" he says. "What's the matter? You were panicking earlier."
"I don't know," I lie to him. Patrick's thumb still creates the soothing pattern on my cheek and I being to calm down. I am only left with my trembling.
"Yeah?" he asks gently. I nod, averting my gaze to the car's floor. "Maybe it's withdrawals again?"
"I think so," I play along, rather it being this answer than the former. An image of Daniel's dead body flashes in my mind again and I find myself flinching at the memory. I push Patrick's hand away and curl into myself. Though he was forced under being part of the Infected, I couldn't bear to imagine the same hole in Patrick's forehead as Daniel's. The only difference is that the bullet would be coming from a gun in my hand instead of Revolution's.

"You sure it's just withdrawals?" the singer asks me. I shudder as I hug my knees to my chest, resting my chin on my lap. I manage to give a small nod.

"You guys were a band, right?" I ask, desperately wanting to change the subject. I don't want to talk about me; I want to get out of my own mind that's polluted with the memory of a dead father I never really remembered.

"Yeah," Patrick answers just above a whisper. His blue eyes still show concern for me and it almost aches to see all the stirring, unanswered questions in his irises. Suddenly, it's his turn to avert his gaze from me for a short second. "Maybe another time. Maybe Cherri can show you some tracks in the studio."

The van starts to drive along the dust again and I force myself to look away from the blonde boy that sits before me. I almost forget to react to his suggestion and settle with a small nod. I begin to realize why Rev is the way she is even more as Daniel's death replays in my head. My hands feel filthy— as if blood really does coat the limbs. A shudder rolls through my body as I release a sigh. I can still feel Patrick studying me with a worrisome gaze.

"What can I do to help, Bomb?" he asks after a moment. I give a small shrug. A moment of silence passes before Patrick claims the space beside me. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to his side. Another whimper sounds from my throat as I bury my face in the crook of his neck. Patrick rubs my arm in an attempt to comfort me, but it doesn't erase the newfound memory.