Favorite Record
Two: Let's Call It a 'Failed but Never Attempted'
More dreams. More crying. More heartwrenching memories that leave Patrick sitting in his bed all night, with his head in his hands, tears of his horrible memories trickling down his red and puffy face. His eyes sparkled from the reflection of the television playing a Saturday night rerun. He hiccuped lightly, reaching for a tissue. Blowing his nose, he tossed it onto the floor, where many other tissues were already laying.
A knock on the door, and Patrick released his gaze from the television to the door, it was Martie, one of his other roommates. He bid he would never room with a boy, it would all come back to him, "I heard you crying from my room, you want to talk about it?"
Patrick looked up, and nodded. She stepped inside and seated herself next to him, listening to his story.
"P-Pete," it was more of a moan then a desperate plea to get Pete to release him. He had shoved his hand down Patrick's rather loose jeans and carassed him ever so slowly. Patrick couldn't help but lift his hips up to meet his hand.
He clicked his tongue, "You are a slut, just like I thought." He dug his nails into Patrick's length and he screamed in agony. Pete did have rather long nails.
"Thats right, scream." Pete was a terror, he really was. He scared all the lifeless people. He liked having slaves. He liked taking people to his house, taking them to his basement, locking the door, and having his way with them in the basement. After catching Patrick kissing Ryan, Patrick denying it was his fault, Pete immediatly tortured Ryan, the poor boy with enough disaster from his father's whim of hitting him. Seems that Pete had.. molested him in the wrongest way possible. I suppose you can call it rape, as the next day Ryan limped around the school.
Pete liked thinking Patrick was his.
Martie held Patrick as he sobbed into her shoulder. The memories mentally scared Patrick. It was all that Pete did to him. Luckily, Pete never had a chance to do anything.. drastic to Patrick. Patrick still had his virginity locked tight, after Pete, he couldn't trust anybody. No guy could ever rid the thoughts that no one was like Pete. He had destroyed countless relationships to all those memories to Pete. He had mentally scarred him.
"Patrick, he's not here. He never will be. He fucked up your mind Patrick, he mentally abused your mind, while sexually harassing you at such a young age. You were only sixteen, he was eighteen," she shushed him, as his sobs became more gut wrenching, "Its basically child abuse and pedophillia, and not to mention illegal. He wont do anything to you anymore Patrick, no one knows where he is. Patrick, its almost noon. You have to go to work."
Patrick gasped lightly, shaking his head, "Call me in sick?"
"Patrick, you've been called sick eight times already. Half the times I said you had a mental breakdown and were crying like a madman, the other half I faked random flu things like couging uncontrollably and feven at 101. Your going to get fired."
Patrick pushed himself up, and wiped his eyes quickly, before slipping on a pair of shoes and a plain black cap. Sighing quickly, he kissed Martie on the cheek, before saying a quick good-bye and exiting the room. The house right after.
+
He sat behind a receptionist desk, looking through some papers as random people came to check in their dogs. He simply had them sign in and they would be with the doctor momentarily. He stood up and shifted through the W's to put in a file for the Wentrims. He went backwards, and almost dropped the folder at the last name sticking out in a yellow tab.
Wentz
Shoving the Wentrims folder right after the Wentz's folder, he immediatly picked up the folder and shuffled through it. A picture of three dogs stuck out as he fanned through the papers.
In red marker on one familiar picture was written, 'Hemingway.'
He remebered the dog faintly. He was at the graduation. His parents were holding him. Pete was standing next to me, us both equally short. We were in the second row. His wandering hand was hidden by both his gown and the heads infront of us. He had literally rubbed me through the jeans I was wearing, and he had to smile and laugh to hide the moans and the face with 'pleasure' written all over it.
A voice. A voice so vaguely remeber, peirced through the little office. "Hi, im here to see the vet about my dog Hemingway." He used a squeaky voice.
"Someone will be there in a minute. Im rather busy. He shuffled through the papers, as he called forth Alice, who was suppose to be on her coffee break. She knew about Pete, and when Patrick tensed and mouthed Pete, she immediatly tossed out her coffee and signed him in for Patrick.
As Alice went back to finish her coffee break, Pete whispered, "Nice to see you again, Patrick."
Patrick nearly fainted.
+
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was becoming his teen self, when he used to stair at his brother Kevin's razor from his tool box. Now he had his own. He stared malicously at it, a faint laugh escaping his lips. What was he doing? All because of Pete. Of course, he did it while he was a child, after Pete touched him in the oddest places until they both graduated, and the only reason Pete did graduate with him, is because he was held back a grade, meeting up with Patrick.
He simply pressed it into his skin, not enough to make a cut. He looked at himself, before seeing his friends in the reflection. He sighed, the razor clinging at the ground, before he begane crying.
Pete had gotten to him, but his friends stopped him.
Lets call this a 'Failed but never Attempted' suicide.
A knock on the door, and Patrick released his gaze from the television to the door, it was Martie, one of his other roommates. He bid he would never room with a boy, it would all come back to him, "I heard you crying from my room, you want to talk about it?"
Patrick looked up, and nodded. She stepped inside and seated herself next to him, listening to his story.
"P-Pete," it was more of a moan then a desperate plea to get Pete to release him. He had shoved his hand down Patrick's rather loose jeans and carassed him ever so slowly. Patrick couldn't help but lift his hips up to meet his hand.
He clicked his tongue, "You are a slut, just like I thought." He dug his nails into Patrick's length and he screamed in agony. Pete did have rather long nails.
"Thats right, scream." Pete was a terror, he really was. He scared all the lifeless people. He liked having slaves. He liked taking people to his house, taking them to his basement, locking the door, and having his way with them in the basement. After catching Patrick kissing Ryan, Patrick denying it was his fault, Pete immediatly tortured Ryan, the poor boy with enough disaster from his father's whim of hitting him. Seems that Pete had.. molested him in the wrongest way possible. I suppose you can call it rape, as the next day Ryan limped around the school.
Pete liked thinking Patrick was his.
Martie held Patrick as he sobbed into her shoulder. The memories mentally scared Patrick. It was all that Pete did to him. Luckily, Pete never had a chance to do anything.. drastic to Patrick. Patrick still had his virginity locked tight, after Pete, he couldn't trust anybody. No guy could ever rid the thoughts that no one was like Pete. He had destroyed countless relationships to all those memories to Pete. He had mentally scarred him.
"Patrick, he's not here. He never will be. He fucked up your mind Patrick, he mentally abused your mind, while sexually harassing you at such a young age. You were only sixteen, he was eighteen," she shushed him, as his sobs became more gut wrenching, "Its basically child abuse and pedophillia, and not to mention illegal. He wont do anything to you anymore Patrick, no one knows where he is. Patrick, its almost noon. You have to go to work."
Patrick gasped lightly, shaking his head, "Call me in sick?"
"Patrick, you've been called sick eight times already. Half the times I said you had a mental breakdown and were crying like a madman, the other half I faked random flu things like couging uncontrollably and feven at 101. Your going to get fired."
Patrick pushed himself up, and wiped his eyes quickly, before slipping on a pair of shoes and a plain black cap. Sighing quickly, he kissed Martie on the cheek, before saying a quick good-bye and exiting the room. The house right after.
+
He sat behind a receptionist desk, looking through some papers as random people came to check in their dogs. He simply had them sign in and they would be with the doctor momentarily. He stood up and shifted through the W's to put in a file for the Wentrims. He went backwards, and almost dropped the folder at the last name sticking out in a yellow tab.
Wentz
Shoving the Wentrims folder right after the Wentz's folder, he immediatly picked up the folder and shuffled through it. A picture of three dogs stuck out as he fanned through the papers.
In red marker on one familiar picture was written, 'Hemingway.'
He remebered the dog faintly. He was at the graduation. His parents were holding him. Pete was standing next to me, us both equally short. We were in the second row. His wandering hand was hidden by both his gown and the heads infront of us. He had literally rubbed me through the jeans I was wearing, and he had to smile and laugh to hide the moans and the face with 'pleasure' written all over it.
A voice. A voice so vaguely remeber, peirced through the little office. "Hi, im here to see the vet about my dog Hemingway." He used a squeaky voice.
"Someone will be there in a minute. Im rather busy. He shuffled through the papers, as he called forth Alice, who was suppose to be on her coffee break. She knew about Pete, and when Patrick tensed and mouthed Pete, she immediatly tossed out her coffee and signed him in for Patrick.
As Alice went back to finish her coffee break, Pete whispered, "Nice to see you again, Patrick."
Patrick nearly fainted.
+
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was becoming his teen self, when he used to stair at his brother Kevin's razor from his tool box. Now he had his own. He stared malicously at it, a faint laugh escaping his lips. What was he doing? All because of Pete. Of course, he did it while he was a child, after Pete touched him in the oddest places until they both graduated, and the only reason Pete did graduate with him, is because he was held back a grade, meeting up with Patrick.
He simply pressed it into his skin, not enough to make a cut. He looked at himself, before seeing his friends in the reflection. He sighed, the razor clinging at the ground, before he begane crying.
Pete had gotten to him, but his friends stopped him.
Lets call this a 'Failed but never Attempted' suicide.