Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > A Series Of Events
Such A Sad Disgrace
1 review[Short Patrick Story.] Patrick loves Dahlia with all of his heart, but her deadly habit is ripping them apart.
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Patrick Stump walked into the bathroom, turning on the light he looked down at the bathroom floor, a gasp escaping his throat. It wasn't an unusual sight for him, but the brutal truth of this one really hit him and it hit hard. There she was laying on the bathroom floor at five A.M. He had never heard her come home last night, so god only knows how long she had been laying there. He cringed at the sight before him. Dahlia, his girlfriend and best friend growing up, laying on the cold floor, a belt tied around her arm, acting as a tourniquet to make sure she got her veins up. A used needle hanging half way out of her arm and the blood streaks running down her arm and pooling into the palm of her hand.
Kneeling down next to her he took off the already loosened belt and tossed it to the side. He then gently and carefully pulled the needle out of her arm the rest of the way and looked for the cap. Who was he kidding? She probably shared the needle with so many people the cap was long gone. He dropped it into the sink and ran the water over it. He then grabbed a towel and wet it, cleaning up the blood that had ran and dried on her arm. He left her there for a minute before going over to the shower and turning it on. He hated when he had to do this. No matter how many times he had begged her to quit, she never did. He knew it wasn't easy and she needed help. He offered and even forced so many times to send her to a rehab so that she would get completely better. She refused. It seemed like she didn't want help. She, even after three years still loved the feeling she got. And, she wasn't regretful. She had lost everything because of the heroin. Her job, her family, her friends. Everyone but Patrick had abandoned her, but he was getting tired of this.
It was a rare occasion for him to be home seeing as it seemed like he was always on the road or in a different city doing interviews, writing songs, playing the guitar. He loved every minute of being in Fall Out Boy, but, she was always in the back of his mind. He couldn't help but think that there would be one day when she would take it too far. She would over dose and he wouldn't be there.
He pushed the thoughts out of his head as he brought her over to the shower; slowly he undressed her and placed her in the tub allowing the cold water to splash on her face. She was going through one of the episodes that happened after she got high. She would have a few minutes of a real good high and then she would pass out. Seeing the fact that she wasn't withering around on the bathroom floor he knew the high had long since passed.
As the water hit her face, Dahlia was almost jerked forward as she took a deep breath. And, unlike normal she kept gasping as she grabbed onto Patrick's shirt and looked into his eyes. The look she was giving him almost scared him to death. All he could see in her eyes was fear. It was like she was a women possessed.
He managed to pry her hands off of her and he ran into the bedroom and grabbed the phone off of the night stand, immediately dialing 9-1-1. He had seen her coming off of a high plenty of times and this was not the norm for her. It was actually very far from the norm. He quickly blurted out to the operator what was going on and then the address to the house. He went into the bathroom and took her out of the tub and put a long t-shirt on her, not wanting her to be taken away naked. He then carried her into the living room where the EMT's could access her quicker. He sat next to her holding her hand tightly as he wanted to keep the convulsions from happening, but there was no avail.
Witin minutes the EMT's arrived and they put Dahlia into the ambulance. Patrick got in next to her, but stayed out of the way as the EMT's worked quickly around her. She was still convulsing and Patrick began to get worried. What if this was it? This was the one time she had taken it too far. She had overdosed. Nearly killed herself. But, maybe now she would get help. She would realize that she couldn't go on living this life. It was going to get her nowhere. And, he was still there and he would help her through it all. She would be recovered and then he could take her on tour with him and show her the world. He could do that without worrying about her going to the bathroom and shooting up every five minutes.
They got to the hospital and the EMT's immediately brought Dahlia into the emergency room and then instructed Patrick to go towards a desk where a clerk had him fill out a bunch of papers and sign releases. He did it, without compliant, although it was the last thing he wanted to be bothered with. Patrick often did everything he was supposed to without compliant. He liked to go with the flow and not get so stressed out unless he had to. He returned the papers and sat down in the waiting room.
His sitting didn't last long as he was again returned to his feet and he began to pace around the many seats in the empty waiting room. He assumed there weren't many emergencies at 5:30 in the morning. He was brought back to happier times of being in the emergency room waiting area. It had been almost three months at a show when Joe was seemingly having a bad day and decided to show that in his playing. Well, Peter had gotten a little too close to him and he ended up getting bashed in the head with Joe's guitar. He played the rest of the show and then the four of them went to the emergency room to get Pete stitched up. By the time they had gotten him to the hospital, his white shirt was red, or an off red. Almost like a pink. Figures, Pete bleeds pink blood.
He shook the thoughts out of his head. He was there for Dahlia. He shouldn't be thinking of fun times with the guys. He rubbed a hand over his face. He was in such a rush he had forgotten his glasses and he was almost blind without them. He paced around some more occasionally looking towards the door for a Doctor to come out and tell him he could come back and see Dahlia. He would tell him everything was alright and that they would make a plan for her to get help. She'd go off to rehab. Everything would be amazing after that. They could be the couple he always wanted them to be.
Another few minutes passed, but it felt like hours. The doors opened but an elderly man walked out with what Patrick assumed was his daughter. He was going home and Dahlia was next. He was sure of it. They would want to keep her of course, but she'd be alive. He was positive of that. God wouldn't take her away now.
He took a seat at one of the seats next to the desk and then got up again. He seemed to have a case of restless leg syndrome. He had seen it on TV commercials a few times, but he didn't know it was selective. He had the kind with the creepy crawlers. He felt like there were spiders crawling up his legs. He rubbed his arms down his legs as he paced around some more. He looked down at his feet. Great, he was in his socks. And, he didn't even have his wallet. He couldn't call a cab later on. He had his cell phone though. He could always call Pete. Who would then yell at him for waking him up. He had no doubt been up most of the night with Rylee doing things young couples do when they hadn't seen each other in months. But, like the best friend he was he would get out of bed and come and get him the second he heard what had happened.
He again pushed the thoughts out of his head. 'Stop getting ahead of yourself, Patrick.' He told himself. He wouldn't think about going home and getting things for her until he knew she was alright and she had a room. He predicted they would put her on the fourth floor with the rest of the drug users.
He began bit on his lip, just for the lack of anything to entertain himself with. He was a worrier, but he had convinced himself so much that there was nothing to do worry about. Now, he was just bored. Bored and tired. He hadn't been up very late the night before but it was the damn jet lag.
The doors opened once again and Patrick jumped up, looking at the Doctor. It had to be for him. He was the only one there. He looked over at him as he came closer.
"Mr. Stump?" He questioned as he held a few papers in his hand.
"Yes. Dahlia is alright, right? She's going to be on the fourth floor right? Can we get her into rehab?" He asked. He suddenly had diarrhea of the mouth.
"I'm sorry, Sir. She didn't make it..."
Kneeling down next to her he took off the already loosened belt and tossed it to the side. He then gently and carefully pulled the needle out of her arm the rest of the way and looked for the cap. Who was he kidding? She probably shared the needle with so many people the cap was long gone. He dropped it into the sink and ran the water over it. He then grabbed a towel and wet it, cleaning up the blood that had ran and dried on her arm. He left her there for a minute before going over to the shower and turning it on. He hated when he had to do this. No matter how many times he had begged her to quit, she never did. He knew it wasn't easy and she needed help. He offered and even forced so many times to send her to a rehab so that she would get completely better. She refused. It seemed like she didn't want help. She, even after three years still loved the feeling she got. And, she wasn't regretful. She had lost everything because of the heroin. Her job, her family, her friends. Everyone but Patrick had abandoned her, but he was getting tired of this.
It was a rare occasion for him to be home seeing as it seemed like he was always on the road or in a different city doing interviews, writing songs, playing the guitar. He loved every minute of being in Fall Out Boy, but, she was always in the back of his mind. He couldn't help but think that there would be one day when she would take it too far. She would over dose and he wouldn't be there.
He pushed the thoughts out of his head as he brought her over to the shower; slowly he undressed her and placed her in the tub allowing the cold water to splash on her face. She was going through one of the episodes that happened after she got high. She would have a few minutes of a real good high and then she would pass out. Seeing the fact that she wasn't withering around on the bathroom floor he knew the high had long since passed.
As the water hit her face, Dahlia was almost jerked forward as she took a deep breath. And, unlike normal she kept gasping as she grabbed onto Patrick's shirt and looked into his eyes. The look she was giving him almost scared him to death. All he could see in her eyes was fear. It was like she was a women possessed.
He managed to pry her hands off of her and he ran into the bedroom and grabbed the phone off of the night stand, immediately dialing 9-1-1. He had seen her coming off of a high plenty of times and this was not the norm for her. It was actually very far from the norm. He quickly blurted out to the operator what was going on and then the address to the house. He went into the bathroom and took her out of the tub and put a long t-shirt on her, not wanting her to be taken away naked. He then carried her into the living room where the EMT's could access her quicker. He sat next to her holding her hand tightly as he wanted to keep the convulsions from happening, but there was no avail.
Witin minutes the EMT's arrived and they put Dahlia into the ambulance. Patrick got in next to her, but stayed out of the way as the EMT's worked quickly around her. She was still convulsing and Patrick began to get worried. What if this was it? This was the one time she had taken it too far. She had overdosed. Nearly killed herself. But, maybe now she would get help. She would realize that she couldn't go on living this life. It was going to get her nowhere. And, he was still there and he would help her through it all. She would be recovered and then he could take her on tour with him and show her the world. He could do that without worrying about her going to the bathroom and shooting up every five minutes.
They got to the hospital and the EMT's immediately brought Dahlia into the emergency room and then instructed Patrick to go towards a desk where a clerk had him fill out a bunch of papers and sign releases. He did it, without compliant, although it was the last thing he wanted to be bothered with. Patrick often did everything he was supposed to without compliant. He liked to go with the flow and not get so stressed out unless he had to. He returned the papers and sat down in the waiting room.
His sitting didn't last long as he was again returned to his feet and he began to pace around the many seats in the empty waiting room. He assumed there weren't many emergencies at 5:30 in the morning. He was brought back to happier times of being in the emergency room waiting area. It had been almost three months at a show when Joe was seemingly having a bad day and decided to show that in his playing. Well, Peter had gotten a little too close to him and he ended up getting bashed in the head with Joe's guitar. He played the rest of the show and then the four of them went to the emergency room to get Pete stitched up. By the time they had gotten him to the hospital, his white shirt was red, or an off red. Almost like a pink. Figures, Pete bleeds pink blood.
He shook the thoughts out of his head. He was there for Dahlia. He shouldn't be thinking of fun times with the guys. He rubbed a hand over his face. He was in such a rush he had forgotten his glasses and he was almost blind without them. He paced around some more occasionally looking towards the door for a Doctor to come out and tell him he could come back and see Dahlia. He would tell him everything was alright and that they would make a plan for her to get help. She'd go off to rehab. Everything would be amazing after that. They could be the couple he always wanted them to be.
Another few minutes passed, but it felt like hours. The doors opened but an elderly man walked out with what Patrick assumed was his daughter. He was going home and Dahlia was next. He was sure of it. They would want to keep her of course, but she'd be alive. He was positive of that. God wouldn't take her away now.
He took a seat at one of the seats next to the desk and then got up again. He seemed to have a case of restless leg syndrome. He had seen it on TV commercials a few times, but he didn't know it was selective. He had the kind with the creepy crawlers. He felt like there were spiders crawling up his legs. He rubbed his arms down his legs as he paced around some more. He looked down at his feet. Great, he was in his socks. And, he didn't even have his wallet. He couldn't call a cab later on. He had his cell phone though. He could always call Pete. Who would then yell at him for waking him up. He had no doubt been up most of the night with Rylee doing things young couples do when they hadn't seen each other in months. But, like the best friend he was he would get out of bed and come and get him the second he heard what had happened.
He again pushed the thoughts out of his head. 'Stop getting ahead of yourself, Patrick.' He told himself. He wouldn't think about going home and getting things for her until he knew she was alright and she had a room. He predicted they would put her on the fourth floor with the rest of the drug users.
He began bit on his lip, just for the lack of anything to entertain himself with. He was a worrier, but he had convinced himself so much that there was nothing to do worry about. Now, he was just bored. Bored and tired. He hadn't been up very late the night before but it was the damn jet lag.
The doors opened once again and Patrick jumped up, looking at the Doctor. It had to be for him. He was the only one there. He looked over at him as he came closer.
"Mr. Stump?" He questioned as he held a few papers in his hand.
"Yes. Dahlia is alright, right? She's going to be on the fourth floor right? Can we get her into rehab?" He asked. He suddenly had diarrhea of the mouth.
"I'm sorry, Sir. She didn't make it..."
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