Cries of a Love Bat

I woke up with heavy blankets on top of me. It was safe to say that yes I was comfortable; they just felt heavy. Which was strange because I slept with three sheets for a blanket, since I didn’t want to steal stuff from the guys.

I pushed the blanket over my head and blinked a couple of times, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. A bed, a closed up window, a desk, a chair, and a door were clues providing the information that I was not in my room.

I sat up and pushed my feet over the bed, while looking at the walls for any clues as to where exactly I could be. Andy and Joe’s room was out the question, only because there were no comic books and Star Wars figurines lying around. Patrick’s room was in the basement with his work stuff, and I was pretty sure you couldn’t have a window in a basement.

Sitting at the chair by the desk became imperative as soon as I stood; I felt too light headed to make it to the door. Thinking about it my whole body hurt, like someone had bruised every inch of flesh I had.

Taking my mind off of it was easy because the desk was covered in papers and notebooks, all scattered across the wood surface. Leaking pens, broken pencils, and shredded sheets helped create the mess.

Definitely Pete’s room.

The papers all had one-liners written across them in a hieroglyphic looking penmanship. Most were scribbled out in dark ink while others were just separated by single spaces.

It could be worse, it could be taking you there with me.

I’m the last of my kind and that’s all that should matter to you.

Give up on me cuz darling what did you expect?

We do it in the dark, with smiles on our faces.

And we shake the hips in relationships.

The truth hurts worse than anything I could bring myself to do to you.

I’m half doomed and you’re semi-sweet.

Does he know the way of the crickets that would convince me to call it a night?

I put the paper down, sighing a little. I could spend forever going through every single paper and reading all of these.

I went to go push the hair out of my face when I noticed a black shape on my wrist. I stared and it and choked. Why was a copy of Pete’s tattoo on my wrist?

I got up, not caring about how I felt, and ran out the door and down the attic steps, past the rooms down the hall, down more stairs and stopped at the landing.

Joe was sitting there, reading a comic book, which was weird. Well not the reading a comic book but him being there alone.

“Emily, what are you doing out of bed?” he asked, looking up at me questioningly.

I pointed to the tattoo on my wrist. “What’s this?’

“Patrick said you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed for another two hours. Maybe you should go back to sleep.”

“What the hell Joe? No! Don’t do this to me,” I stated, walking down the rest of the stairs to stand a few feet in front of him. “What is this and why did I wake up in Pete’s room?”

“He didn’t think you would actually let Will-”

The door opened and in came Andy, covered in sweat, dirt and blood. Next was Patrick who was looking the same, and then Pete who was just in blood.

Patrick looked at my face and shook his head. “Why are you up?”

“What the fuck is this?” I retorted.

“The sedative was supposed to keep you up there for another hour…”

I looked at Pete accusingly after glaring at Patrick. “Answer me God dammit!”

“Emily, you just lost a lot of blood, and you don’t even have most of it back. You’re overreacting and you need to rest,” Andy chimed in.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” I yelled at them, breathing heavily now and feeling less than stable.

Pete immediately was at my side and sat me down, as if knowing that I was going to fall in any second.

“Let me get you a drink,” Joe said walking into the kitchen.

“How did you know?” Patrick asked Pete, looking from me to him.

“It’s apart of…it. I can feel what she feels,” he said quietly.

“Does it work the other way around? Can she feel yours as well?” Patrick questioned in response.

I took a shaky breath. They didn’t mean that we were connected right? Stuff like that only happens if you get marked. “Patrick…”

He looked at me, almost like he was sorry. “You would have died. We found you on our walk back from the meeting with Ryan and Brendon. They could tell William did it. He did it to change you.”

He said it a little too fast. My head was spinning at the realization of this all, and it was coming to quickly.

“No.” Pete grabbed my wrist with the mark and pushed on a vain. “Don’t do that, you’ll make yourself sick.”

I took a deep breath and felt better. Whatever Pete was doing, it was calming me down.

“Here,” Joe said, handing me a glass of water. Pete let go of my wrist and I took it shakily.

“So what exactly happened?” I asked after taking a small sip, not feeling that I could keep much down.

“We found you and brought you here. I had to…to mark you Emily. You would have died,” Pete said looking at me.

I nodded, looking back at him. He sounded serious, like he really didn’t want me to die.

“So why were you out anyway? Pete said he didn’t even hear you leave…” Andy asked curious.

“I had my music on, it was…loud. I needed tampons, I don’t know why…” I said, realizing Pete didn’t tell them that he found me at the club, or that he left me at the sight of William.

“But you only had mouth wash and a toothbrush,” Joe noticed.

“Maybe Will took them,” I smiled a little.

Pete took a deep breath through is nose and stood up, walking into the kitchen. Moments later the blender sounded.

“He hasn’t had anything since you got home yesterday,” Patrick explained.

“Yesterday?” I asked.

Patrick nodded. “Apparently the studies we have of being marked are clearly wrong. You proved it was not pleasurable and that it hurts like hell. Emily, you can really scream when you want to. But yes yesterday, I had to give you something so that you would heal without the pain, so we knocked you out with medicine.”

“Drugs,” Joe coughed, trying not to laugh.

Patrick rolled his eyes but put his hand out for me to grab. “You can’t stay up though, you need more sleep.”

“I guess I’m tired,” I yawned, now thinking about it.

Patrick walked me up the stairs and brought me to my room, the second door down the hall on the left. “You will be for a couple of days, remember that. You have little to no blood.”

“How am I…”

“Breathing? Living?” Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Think of it this way: Pete is your life support. He marked you, so you two are connected now. Physically, emotionally, intellectually and everything in between.” He put me on my bed and pulled the covers over me.

“He…he’s putting up with me more then he used to now, huh?”

“I don’t think he minds,” Patrick winked, slowly walking out and shutting the door.