Things reach a peak...
She flicked one shoe off the other as she smoked a drag of her long awaited cigarette. It was plucked from her hand rudely and she looked up to find Michael, he took a long drag of the cancer stick. He handed it back to her and blew it out, a long flume of grey smoke entering the atmosphere.
"Your homeboy was discharge last night." He said factually. Bea glanced up at him.
"Your wife called the other night." She said back with as much charm as possible. His face fell from cocky stance of dominance over this woman to utter fear, she could almost smell it off him.
"Yeah..." Bea said, tapping her cigarette and then inhaling another drag.
"It's funny...I can't help but think that you have always wanted to have the upper hand over me Michael." She said, standing up.
"And now - hm! Well now....You don't." she smiled up at him.
His face was stone like , he was pretty sure he wasn't going to let this woman rattle him. As she walked away, he gripped her wrist and she clenched her teeth, he pulled her back. Bea's eyes fixed on his single hand wrapped around her arm.
"I will not ask you this again." She said firmly.
"Take your hands...off...me." She looked up at him and there was strength in her eyes. He hadn't seen that for a while, he'd ensured she was made to feel as vulnerable as possible.
""Fine." He responded, dropping her hand.
"I regret every kiss and every night I spent with you." She said, shaking her head.
"No you don't..." he said, a smirk tugging at the corner's of his mouth.
She yanked away from him and stared at him.
"I'm applying for a transfer out of here." She said, he entertained the thought for a while before cracking a smile.
"With my referral?" he asked.
"Don't threaten me Michael. You'll do your job, that's the only decent thing you can do for me."
"And then what - you run away with your mentally institutionalized lover?!"
That was enough for her to snap and she shoved him hard.
"He's more of a man than you could ever dream of being." She informed him, her tongue lashed out the words in scorpion like fashion. She rushed away, deeply upset at the exchange they'd had.
She turned her engine off and sat outside that familiar house for what felt like an infinite moment. Now her hands were clamming over the steering wheel and he heart beat thudded steadily against he rib cage. It had been 3 weeks since Pete left the hospital. She hadn't quite mustered up the boldness to visit him. Uncertainty plagued her decision as to whether she would be a welcome visitor or not.
She edged up the garden path and pressed the intercom.
"It's Beatrice." She said softly.
"Who?" The male asked.
She heard fumbling.
"Beatrice?" She heard Mrs Wentz ask.
"Uh...yeah." She replied nervously, the gate clunked open. She felt even more nervous as she saw Patrick's vehicle parked up. She stopped and just looked at the house.
"This isn't a good idea..." she whispered to herself, twisting on the balls of her feet and heading out.
"Bea??!" Mrs Wentz called, she turned to see the woman waving, wondering what she was doing walking in the other direction.
"Damnit..." She muttered under her breath.
The house was quiet. Eerily quiet.
"Thought you may have come sooner." Pete's Mom said, without a vicious intent.
"I wanted to but-" She stopped. The older woman just smiled slightly at her.
"How is he?" she asked, without shame of the real reason why she was there.
"Not good. He won't get the help he needs, thinks that this will all blow over when he gets the divorce over and done with Sarah."
"Divorce? So it's....it's really going ahead, they're not trying to work it out?" she frowned.
"No. He won't and can't forgive her."
"oh..." Beatrice said, taking the hot drink from the woman's hands.
"She wants custody of Samuel, that's affecting him badly, biological or not, he's been there that whole child's life..." she said.
"Of course...It must be devastating...." She said to herself.
"Beatrice, hi!" Patrick said.
"Hey you, how's it going?" She asked, he hugged her tightly. Pete frowned as he saw Patrick's hand linger on Beatrice's back gently.
He slipped back behind the door.
The three of them chatted for a while before Beatrice, with the encouragement from Patrick and his Mom, went to find Pete and try and help him in any way she could.
Knocking softly on the wood of his bedroom door, he opened it abruptly and it made her jump.
"You scared me!"
His eyes looked over her, she hadn't changed a thing in the 6 years they'd been apart.
"How are you feeling?" She asked. He turned and walked into his bedroom, back to his writing.
"Your Mom said you haven't been in touch with the psyche unit yet -
"-Don't Bea...just don't." he said grumpily.
This was going to just as difficult as she thought.
She silently came in and sad down on the edge of his bed.
"She also said you're going through with the divorce..."
Pete put his pen down and looked at her.
Beatrice feared that look in his eye and stood up.
"You don't scare me." She said, shaking her head slightly.
"I'm not trying to." He replied.
"But I'm going through all of this because of you..." he said, Bea frowned, why did her act of heroism sound like she'd signed his death certificate anyway?
"I did what I thought was best!" she whispered.
"What was best was that I just died and got out of everyone's lives!" he said angrily. She shook her head.
"No Peter..." she said sadly.
"That wouldn't have been for the best at all, what about Samuel? He needs you!" She said upset.
He walked towards her, his eyes were cold, without sorry or emotional stability.
His hand softly wrapped around her neck, he felt her swallow hard. His grip tightened a little, it was now a firm hold of her throat.
"Don't Pete..." She said, her head shaking slightly.
"I know you're angry!" she said alarmed as his hand suddenly clenched right under her throat and she gasped hard.
"You don't have any idea!" He said through gritted teeth.
"Pete!" She squeaked silently, he now had both hands around her throat and squeezed the life out of her as hard as he could.
He wanted her to feel the pain he did, he wanted her to know the frustration that his damned words couldn't and he wanted her to know it was not OK and that what she had done was not what he wanted.
Bea's arm thrashed out and knocked over the CD rack by his door, it went crashing to the floor.
She could feel her life edging away second by second as his iron like grip snuffed her airways. The will to fight went as the oxygen starved every single muscle in her body. The lights flashed in her eyes and she felt them roll back, she was losing, quickly.
"Are they OK?" Pete's Mom frowned, hearing the huge crash.
"They're probably..." Patrick stopped, remembering it was his Mom there.
"Peter - everything all right??" His Mom asked up the stairs.
"Peter?" She called.
She heard another crash on the floor and she hurried up the last set of stairs, pushing open his bedroom door, she gasped instantly upon seeing Bea in a crumpled heap on the floor, Pete standing over her.
"What have I done?!" He cried, horrified.
Patrick upon hearing this, raced up the stairs.
Pete fell to his knees and pulled Beatrice up into his arms.
"Oh my God!!" Patrick cried out.
"Pete, what did you do?!" His Mom asked.
"Call 911!!" She instructed Patrick, who grabbed his cell from his pocket.
"I didn't mean to!!" Pete sobbed.
"What did you do??!" His Mom asked angrily, pulling Bea from him and resting her on the floor, tilting her head back, she saw the hand marks on her neck.
""Peter??" She gasped, looking at him.
"I didn't mean to - Oh God, Bea!! I'm So Sorry!" He sobbed,
His Mom pushed him off her and leaned down to check if she was breathing.
"She's not breathing!" she cried,
"She's not breathing!!" Patrick blurted out to the operator.
"CPR!" He relayed back to Pete's Mom.
She leaned down, pinching her nose and breathed into her mouth and then compressed her chest, it was like an instinct with in her. Maybe's it's a skill we're innate with.
"Keep doing it!" Patrick relayed, kneeling down by Beatrice's head.
"Again - breathe again!" he said, as the operator communicated with him.
She did and as she did this time, her chest heaved up and she gasped for air.
Pete clambered over quickly from his place on the floor and grabbed her.
He didn't say anything, just sobbed and squeezed her body into his.
As oxygen made it's way to her body, she slowly lifted her arms around him and held him gently. At that moment, she wasn't capable of expressing anger towards him, her slow steady breaths continued to feed her body the essential supplies it needed and her fingers loped around his hair as he buried his head into her chest and sobbed.
"I'm so sorry!" was all he kept repeating.
Patrick and Pete's Mom could only look on as they watched this nightmare slowly wake up.
"Are you going to press charges?" Michael asked as he examined her throat.
"No." She said factually, as he legs dangled over the edge of the bed.
"He killed you."
"He tried to...I'm alive aren't I?" she asked.
"Open your mouth.." he said, she did and he shone the light down her throat.
"You stay away from him." He said in a deep tone
"You're not my father-"
"-I won't be the one to bag you up next time he gets all unstable on you!" He snapped back. Tears pricked at her eyes, she clenched her lips together hard.
"He needs serious help Beatrice! He strangled you!"
"He didn't mean it!"
"He had his hands around your throat and he held it until you stopped breathing - which part did he not mean!??" He yelled, a couple of Doctor's looked in the room from the corridor.
"Everything alright in here?" one asked.
"Everything's fine!" he said calmly. Bea smiled weakly.
She got down off the bed.
"You're not going anywhere - I'm keeping you in overnight." He said, stopping her with her hand on her chest gently.
"I'm alright." She said weakly.
"You need to stay in over-"
"-Michael!" She said firmly.
She discharged herself moment later.
Her throat was raging, the pain was awful, but nothing else seemed to matter as she held his hand gently and they walked towards the clinic. He stopped and she stared at him.
"You can do this.." she whispered, he looked so scared. He was the lost boy.
He looked again at the building and Bea's hand gently squeezed his as they made their way to the Clinic of Mental Health, his new home for the foreseeable future...
Authors Note: I don't have much faith in this chapter, but I may be wrong....