Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Situation Hopeless
Chpt 21: Selfish doesn't begin to cover it.
3 reviewsKind of sad. But you'll like it. And in true Ane fashion the fun is only just beginning. Keep your eyes peeled.
3Exciting
Chpt 21: Selfish doesn't begin to cover it.
The drive to University Medical Center is quiet. Eerily quiet. Patrick has barely done more than breathe, aside from calling Joe and Andy.
Pete's brother, Andrew, meets us at the information desk in the ER. "He's upstairs. In the ICU. Still not awake. And he's not breathing on his own."
Patrick nods as we follow him to the elevators. I place one hand in Patrick's and the other over my stomach in hopes to stop the swimming.
Six hours later, and barely any change. He's breathing on his own again, the only good new to surface since we arrived on the fourth floor. The hallways are like a ghost town. No one has moved in what seems like ages.
On a padded bench across the hall Mrs. Wentz is seated, hands covering her face. In the doorway to his room, Pete's father stands leaning for support. On either side of their mother sit's the Wentz siblings. Andrew to the right, a hand on his mother's shoulder and Hilary to the left, head down whispering prayers.
Patrick is sitting next to me, a white knuckled grip on my much smaller hand, his head rests atop mine where is lay on his shoulder. Joe and McKenna are seated to the left of us. Andy and Evie disappeared down stairs to get coffee for the group.
The sound of dress shoes clicking on the linoleum brings me back from the white void I'd made my staring contest with.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wentz?" The doctor's voice causes every head in the hallway to rise.
"Yes?" Mr. Wentz says stepping away from the doorway, his voice is rough with lack of sleep. Something we've all been dealing with.
"While he still hasn't regained consciousness, Peter is responding well to stimulus. Its just a waiting game for now. He can have visitors." Calm and cold. There are no other words to describe the tone of voice used by the man in the white coat.
Patrick squeezed my hand as the Wentz family begin to file in the tiny room where Peter lay. After a while, one by one they file out. Patrick's eyes catch mine.
"Go," I croak out, loosening his grip on my hand he goes to stand, "I want to wait."
He nods, kissing my forehead before crossing the hall to enter the room. I must've fallen asleep while he was gone, when I wake up my head is resting in his lap.
"Morning sleeping beauty." He whispers pushing stray hair from my face.
"Hi," I offer in return, stretching slightly as I roll on to my back.
"He woke up."
My eyes widen at this statement.
"But he's resting now if you want to go in."
I not, and stretch again pulling myself in to a sitting position.
The room is eerily quiet. The only noise is provided by the steady beep of the heart monitor.
His appearance catches me off guard. Pale and gaunt. Nothing like what Peter Wentz should resemble.
Tears sting at the corners of my eyes as I make my way closer to the bed, I place my hand over his. "You stupid selfish son of bitch."
Anger finds its way over concern and I can't help myself.
"I hope you know that Wentz. What if this was yours? Huh?" I ask pacing the space along side the bed, both hands resting on the tiny bump in the front of my shirt.
"I'm awake you know." His voice surprizes me, causing me to spin mid pace to face him.
"Asshole." I mumble again, this time into his shoulder as I wrap my arms tightly around his wire ridden torso.
"I know." He mumbles into my hair. "I know."
The drive to University Medical Center is quiet. Eerily quiet. Patrick has barely done more than breathe, aside from calling Joe and Andy.
Pete's brother, Andrew, meets us at the information desk in the ER. "He's upstairs. In the ICU. Still not awake. And he's not breathing on his own."
Patrick nods as we follow him to the elevators. I place one hand in Patrick's and the other over my stomach in hopes to stop the swimming.
Six hours later, and barely any change. He's breathing on his own again, the only good new to surface since we arrived on the fourth floor. The hallways are like a ghost town. No one has moved in what seems like ages.
On a padded bench across the hall Mrs. Wentz is seated, hands covering her face. In the doorway to his room, Pete's father stands leaning for support. On either side of their mother sit's the Wentz siblings. Andrew to the right, a hand on his mother's shoulder and Hilary to the left, head down whispering prayers.
Patrick is sitting next to me, a white knuckled grip on my much smaller hand, his head rests atop mine where is lay on his shoulder. Joe and McKenna are seated to the left of us. Andy and Evie disappeared down stairs to get coffee for the group.
The sound of dress shoes clicking on the linoleum brings me back from the white void I'd made my staring contest with.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wentz?" The doctor's voice causes every head in the hallway to rise.
"Yes?" Mr. Wentz says stepping away from the doorway, his voice is rough with lack of sleep. Something we've all been dealing with.
"While he still hasn't regained consciousness, Peter is responding well to stimulus. Its just a waiting game for now. He can have visitors." Calm and cold. There are no other words to describe the tone of voice used by the man in the white coat.
Patrick squeezed my hand as the Wentz family begin to file in the tiny room where Peter lay. After a while, one by one they file out. Patrick's eyes catch mine.
"Go," I croak out, loosening his grip on my hand he goes to stand, "I want to wait."
He nods, kissing my forehead before crossing the hall to enter the room. I must've fallen asleep while he was gone, when I wake up my head is resting in his lap.
"Morning sleeping beauty." He whispers pushing stray hair from my face.
"Hi," I offer in return, stretching slightly as I roll on to my back.
"He woke up."
My eyes widen at this statement.
"But he's resting now if you want to go in."
I not, and stretch again pulling myself in to a sitting position.
The room is eerily quiet. The only noise is provided by the steady beep of the heart monitor.
His appearance catches me off guard. Pale and gaunt. Nothing like what Peter Wentz should resemble.
Tears sting at the corners of my eyes as I make my way closer to the bed, I place my hand over his. "You stupid selfish son of bitch."
Anger finds its way over concern and I can't help myself.
"I hope you know that Wentz. What if this was yours? Huh?" I ask pacing the space along side the bed, both hands resting on the tiny bump in the front of my shirt.
"I'm awake you know." His voice surprizes me, causing me to spin mid pace to face him.
"Asshole." I mumble again, this time into his shoulder as I wrap my arms tightly around his wire ridden torso.
"I know." He mumbles into my hair. "I know."
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