Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Her better half
Hold your horses
7 reviewsPete learns about how the stalker attacked Patrick and another person comes under suspicion. Kirsh arrests somebody.
3Exciting
Chapter 16: Hold your horses
When Pete and Kirsh arrive at the hospital Patrick is already waiting in front of the tall simple building. Next to him are two police officers. Kirsh knows them from the station and Pete recognizes one as Officer Douglas.
After she turned off the engine and feels for the handle, Pete places a hand on the female detective's shoulder to hold her back. "Let me talk to him alone first. We can take him home, right?"
"Ok. Sure," the woman slumps back into the car seat. "I'll be waiting here." Where I can have an eye on you two.
"Thanks," the bassist gets out of the vehicle and approaches the threesome with brisk strides.
Patrick nods at his bandmate as he notices him walking toward him.
"Hey, Trickster. Um, can I talk to him alone for a second?" Pete asks the cops. Douglas nods and suggests to his colleague to take a few steps away from the two men by pointing his head towards the near by bench.
Once the executives are out of the immdiate earshot, the worried musician showers his friend with questions, "What happened, Patrick? Are you alright? How is your arm?" He points at the bandage that covers the lead singer's right forearm.
Automatically the spoken to raises his injured limb, he grimaces with pain and quickly holds it still, "I got seven stitches, she slashed deeply but luckily she didn't hit a tendon. I didn't lose too much blood."
"How?" Pete's eyes are fixates on his friend's face, his expression one of disbelief and shock.
Patrick sighs frustrated; in the meantime he's told this story to the police two times (on the phone and in person), a nurse and the doctor who stitched the wound. "I wake up because I hear a crashing sound. I open my eyes and see a dark silhouette standing at the foot of my bed. I bend over to the side to turn on the lamp on my nightstand and that moment the asshole flings herself onto me and I see a blade flashing. I try to push her off me and we wrestle on the bed. I cover my face with my arms when I see her striking out with the knife and the next thing I know is she cuts me across the right forearm."
"Did you see her face?"
"Nope, man. When she cut me I screamed in panic and she was startled for one second. I kicked her off me and while I am pressing my sheets to the bleeding wound, I hear her getting onto her feet and running out of the house. I never had the time to turn on the light."
"God, Patrick... I am so sorry this happened to you," Pete asserts his sympathy.
The lead singer nods towards the two police officers on the bench, "One of them is supposed to stay with me, probably until she's caught."
Welcome to my world. Pete snorts.
"Do you want a ride home?"
"Ah, the cops are gonna take me home. Folks at the label and management are pretty freaked out. They have to worry about the safety of a second band member now," Patrick replies, almost coldly.
Pete doesn't fail to pick up the tone of resentment but decides to let it go. It's only understandable that he's bitter now and, in all fairness, this is partly my fault.
"Come on, Trickster, lemme take you home. I already feel like shit because this happened. Let me try to make it up to you," the bassist insists.
The other man thinks it over for a moment and then agrees, "Let me just talk to the guys real quick." He heads over to the police officers.
"I'm gonna wait in the car for you," Pete points at his vehicle behind whose steering wheel Kirsh is sitting and observing.
"What happened?" she asks as her charge gets in next to her.
Pete tells her what he's just learned from his bandmate. "I guess this disproves your stupid suspicion. I told you it's not Patrick," he finishes. He's still holding a grudge because they interrogated his friend behind his back.
"Dear Mr. Wentz, this wouldn't be the first time that a suspect hurts himself to avert suspicion," Kirsh says flatly. This doesn't disprove anything; on the contrary.
"You can't seriously suspect Patrick! He's one of my closest friends! This is ridiculous," Pete exclaims.
"In fact, this is more common than you assume. Jealousy drives people insane. You're the frontman of the band, right? And you're in a fulfilling relationship," she has to restrain herself not to smirk at the thought of having Moe Sommer as a girlfriend and finding it fulfilling, "and he's been alone for quite a while now."
"What are you talking about? Why would Patrick be jealous? He can't even stand being in the spotlight. He hates photo shoots, he feels uncomfortable during video interviews," the man easily rejects the detective's motifs. "And as for relationships, I think he's not even ready for a new one yet. What you're saying is not making any sense at all."
"Didn't he want to become an actor when he was younger? Deceiving people who blindly trust you doesn't take all that much, you know..." Kirsh interjects.
"What?... Stop this. Now," Pete pushes his open palms in front of himself. "This is nonsense. It's not Patrick."
It can't be.
"He didn't, by any chance, see the face of the stalker?"
"No," Pete replies meekly. "BUT why would a guy who makes a living by playing guitar slash himself across his arm? How stupid would that be?"
"I assume that, since he's out of the hospital already, his injury isn't too bad. Lucky guy," Kirsh replies. When she sees the hurt look on Pete's face she wishes she had kept the last bit to herself.
"Hey." One of the doors to the backseat opens and Patrick's head pops in. In their heated discussion neither of the two saw him approaching the car. "I'm meeting this one dude at my house."
The female officer inquires which of them will be staying with him and after he pointed him out to her, she sighs relieved. Thank God, it's not Douglas. Slimy coward's got his greedy fingers in this case way too far; I don't get Maxwell.
On the way to his house Patrick shows Pete and Kirsh a copy of the letter that Phebe left on the floor of his bedroom where she had attacked him.
Pete,
Get rid of Kirsh.
I mean it. She is against me; she is against US.
This is just a warning, I don't mean to seriously hurt Patrick. But I thought I'd give you a taste of what awaits Moe if you don't respect my wishes. Healthy relationships are reciprocal.
You have to work with me, Peter.
GET RID OF KIRSH!
Don't doubt my love for just one second. It's why I am doing all of this. I don't expect minor minds to understand this.
But you're special, you'll understand eventually.
In undying love & affection, I remain forever yours - Phebe
P.S.: Get Kirsh out of the way and I will release Moe. She has to tell you something important anyway.
"Seems like she really can't stand you," Patrick addresses Kirsh from the backseat. I fucking wonder why.
"Yet she attacked you," the woman retorts.
Pete feels the tension between the two and is glad that they have reached his friend's place.
"Lemme walk you to the door," he says to Patrick as the car comes a halt.
"If you insist..."
"So, couldn't you make out anything at all? Like her figure? Height?" Pete's speaking tempo is doubled as he shoots out the questions when they're walking towards the house.
"You hitting on your crazy stalker now?"
"Funny, Patrick," the bassist hisses. "I just wanna know if she looks like anybody I know."
"I couldn't say how tall she is. But when she flung herself at me she wasn't all that heavy. Her waistline was right in my face for a second. Kinda slim I'd say."
"Any comparison to anyone we know?"
"Pete... stop it. I don't KNOW what she looks like, ok?"
The other man is annoyed. Why won't he help me figure out who this is? He must have more details, I mean she SAT on him.
"You know what frustrates me even more than not having a clearer picture of this bitch who is doing this to me and my friends is that Kirsh still suspects you," Pete says finally.
Patrick almost chokes, "Excuse me?!" He wants to raise his bandaged arm again but then thinks better of it.
"I know, she's crazy. How could you do this to yourself...?"
"You know, if I think about it, the person I know that resembles my assaulter the most is Kirsh," the lead singer spits out.
Pete is quiet for a minute, waiting for his bandmate to add something to his statement. "You can't be serious about this, man. You're not just saying this because I just said she still thinks it's you?"
"I'm not. Kirsh is slim and so was my attacker. I couldn't see the hair but I'd say it was short or else I would have caught a better glimpse of it. Kirsh's hair is short."
"The stalker called KIRSH while I was in the forest. Therefore it can't be her," Pete points out.
The other musician scratches his cheek with his left hand. "You mean Kirsh SAID that the stalker called her," he says matter-of-factly.
"Patrick!"
The men have been standing in front of the door for a few moments now.
Pete grabs him by the shoulder, "Don't mess with me now. You're sounding as insane as Kirsh does. A lot of people are slim and have short hair. Heck, I do!"
"Yeah, Pete, whatever. I was just trying to help, ok? I'll see you around, I need some peace and quiet now." He unlocks the door and slips inside.
Left behind is an utterly confused and insecure Peter Wentz who dreads returning to the car where the police officer is waiting for him.
After a short show that the four band members played there's a signing they have to get through. Pete, Patrick, Andy and Joe are seated behind two plastic tables, busily scribbling their names on various CD booklets, pieces of paper, posters, clothes and body parts.
On the stage they had a substitute guitarist who filled in for Patrick. He wouldn't be able to play for the next few weeks.
"What happened to your arm, Patty?" a girl who looks about 12 asks.
"I cut myself badly, the clumsy dork I am," he pulls a face and grins at her.
She smiles widely at him, "Well, I really hope you get better soon. I love your guitar playing! And singing! Oh, and the overall you."
"Thanks."
She walks away.
"Really?" another girl addresses Patrick. She's got blonde hair and looks somewhat familiar to him, he just can't put his finger on it.
"Yes," he answers.
"I heard you were attacked by the chick who's stalking Pete."
All of the three other men's heads shoot up, they stare at the speaker. Patrick raises an eyebrow.
"How the fuck do you know that?" Pete finally breaks the silence, his voice a pitch higher than usual. This was meant to be kept secret. Only a handful of people know about this. How the fuck does she know?
A second later it hits him: It's the girl in the front row. It's the girl from his first nightmare. She's made repeated appearances in his following dreams, even though it wasn't always her face he saw.
"Oh my God, it's you!" he screams and jumps up from his seat.
Andy, Joe and Patrick stare at him helplessly.
"Kirsh! It's her! I know it, I know it! I saw her in the woods, I remember clearly now! It's her, she's the stalker!" Pete won't calm down, he's pointing at the blonde fan.
Fast as lightning the female detective is at his side and asks him if he's really sure that he saw her at the forest. Pete affirms. Within seconds the blonde finds herself handcuffed and surrounded by four officers. Due to the recent developments the number of bodyguards has been doubled and the police has sent a squad to whatever venue the band has made an appearance at.
"Let go off me! Are you fucking insane?" the girl screeches.
Kirsh smiles, confident of victory. Finally. Stupid conceited girl showed up to convince herself of the effect her actions are having on Wentz.
Get rid of Kirsh my ass, missy.
_ _ _ _ _
Dear faithful readers,
I've put up a little poll on my profile page because I want to give you the chance to decide on how this story ends to thank you for all the wonderful reviews. There's three options and (I think) you can actually click on more than only one if you can't really make up your mind between two.
Thanks for sticking with me & psycho Phebe. :)
When Pete and Kirsh arrive at the hospital Patrick is already waiting in front of the tall simple building. Next to him are two police officers. Kirsh knows them from the station and Pete recognizes one as Officer Douglas.
After she turned off the engine and feels for the handle, Pete places a hand on the female detective's shoulder to hold her back. "Let me talk to him alone first. We can take him home, right?"
"Ok. Sure," the woman slumps back into the car seat. "I'll be waiting here." Where I can have an eye on you two.
"Thanks," the bassist gets out of the vehicle and approaches the threesome with brisk strides.
Patrick nods at his bandmate as he notices him walking toward him.
"Hey, Trickster. Um, can I talk to him alone for a second?" Pete asks the cops. Douglas nods and suggests to his colleague to take a few steps away from the two men by pointing his head towards the near by bench.
Once the executives are out of the immdiate earshot, the worried musician showers his friend with questions, "What happened, Patrick? Are you alright? How is your arm?" He points at the bandage that covers the lead singer's right forearm.
Automatically the spoken to raises his injured limb, he grimaces with pain and quickly holds it still, "I got seven stitches, she slashed deeply but luckily she didn't hit a tendon. I didn't lose too much blood."
"How?" Pete's eyes are fixates on his friend's face, his expression one of disbelief and shock.
Patrick sighs frustrated; in the meantime he's told this story to the police two times (on the phone and in person), a nurse and the doctor who stitched the wound. "I wake up because I hear a crashing sound. I open my eyes and see a dark silhouette standing at the foot of my bed. I bend over to the side to turn on the lamp on my nightstand and that moment the asshole flings herself onto me and I see a blade flashing. I try to push her off me and we wrestle on the bed. I cover my face with my arms when I see her striking out with the knife and the next thing I know is she cuts me across the right forearm."
"Did you see her face?"
"Nope, man. When she cut me I screamed in panic and she was startled for one second. I kicked her off me and while I am pressing my sheets to the bleeding wound, I hear her getting onto her feet and running out of the house. I never had the time to turn on the light."
"God, Patrick... I am so sorry this happened to you," Pete asserts his sympathy.
The lead singer nods towards the two police officers on the bench, "One of them is supposed to stay with me, probably until she's caught."
Welcome to my world. Pete snorts.
"Do you want a ride home?"
"Ah, the cops are gonna take me home. Folks at the label and management are pretty freaked out. They have to worry about the safety of a second band member now," Patrick replies, almost coldly.
Pete doesn't fail to pick up the tone of resentment but decides to let it go. It's only understandable that he's bitter now and, in all fairness, this is partly my fault.
"Come on, Trickster, lemme take you home. I already feel like shit because this happened. Let me try to make it up to you," the bassist insists.
The other man thinks it over for a moment and then agrees, "Let me just talk to the guys real quick." He heads over to the police officers.
"I'm gonna wait in the car for you," Pete points at his vehicle behind whose steering wheel Kirsh is sitting and observing.
"What happened?" she asks as her charge gets in next to her.
Pete tells her what he's just learned from his bandmate. "I guess this disproves your stupid suspicion. I told you it's not Patrick," he finishes. He's still holding a grudge because they interrogated his friend behind his back.
"Dear Mr. Wentz, this wouldn't be the first time that a suspect hurts himself to avert suspicion," Kirsh says flatly. This doesn't disprove anything; on the contrary.
"You can't seriously suspect Patrick! He's one of my closest friends! This is ridiculous," Pete exclaims.
"In fact, this is more common than you assume. Jealousy drives people insane. You're the frontman of the band, right? And you're in a fulfilling relationship," she has to restrain herself not to smirk at the thought of having Moe Sommer as a girlfriend and finding it fulfilling, "and he's been alone for quite a while now."
"What are you talking about? Why would Patrick be jealous? He can't even stand being in the spotlight. He hates photo shoots, he feels uncomfortable during video interviews," the man easily rejects the detective's motifs. "And as for relationships, I think he's not even ready for a new one yet. What you're saying is not making any sense at all."
"Didn't he want to become an actor when he was younger? Deceiving people who blindly trust you doesn't take all that much, you know..." Kirsh interjects.
"What?... Stop this. Now," Pete pushes his open palms in front of himself. "This is nonsense. It's not Patrick."
It can't be.
"He didn't, by any chance, see the face of the stalker?"
"No," Pete replies meekly. "BUT why would a guy who makes a living by playing guitar slash himself across his arm? How stupid would that be?"
"I assume that, since he's out of the hospital already, his injury isn't too bad. Lucky guy," Kirsh replies. When she sees the hurt look on Pete's face she wishes she had kept the last bit to herself.
"Hey." One of the doors to the backseat opens and Patrick's head pops in. In their heated discussion neither of the two saw him approaching the car. "I'm meeting this one dude at my house."
The female officer inquires which of them will be staying with him and after he pointed him out to her, she sighs relieved. Thank God, it's not Douglas. Slimy coward's got his greedy fingers in this case way too far; I don't get Maxwell.
On the way to his house Patrick shows Pete and Kirsh a copy of the letter that Phebe left on the floor of his bedroom where she had attacked him.
Pete,
Get rid of Kirsh.
I mean it. She is against me; she is against US.
This is just a warning, I don't mean to seriously hurt Patrick. But I thought I'd give you a taste of what awaits Moe if you don't respect my wishes. Healthy relationships are reciprocal.
You have to work with me, Peter.
GET RID OF KIRSH!
Don't doubt my love for just one second. It's why I am doing all of this. I don't expect minor minds to understand this.
But you're special, you'll understand eventually.
In undying love & affection, I remain forever yours - Phebe
P.S.: Get Kirsh out of the way and I will release Moe. She has to tell you something important anyway.
"Seems like she really can't stand you," Patrick addresses Kirsh from the backseat. I fucking wonder why.
"Yet she attacked you," the woman retorts.
Pete feels the tension between the two and is glad that they have reached his friend's place.
"Lemme walk you to the door," he says to Patrick as the car comes a halt.
"If you insist..."
"So, couldn't you make out anything at all? Like her figure? Height?" Pete's speaking tempo is doubled as he shoots out the questions when they're walking towards the house.
"You hitting on your crazy stalker now?"
"Funny, Patrick," the bassist hisses. "I just wanna know if she looks like anybody I know."
"I couldn't say how tall she is. But when she flung herself at me she wasn't all that heavy. Her waistline was right in my face for a second. Kinda slim I'd say."
"Any comparison to anyone we know?"
"Pete... stop it. I don't KNOW what she looks like, ok?"
The other man is annoyed. Why won't he help me figure out who this is? He must have more details, I mean she SAT on him.
"You know what frustrates me even more than not having a clearer picture of this bitch who is doing this to me and my friends is that Kirsh still suspects you," Pete says finally.
Patrick almost chokes, "Excuse me?!" He wants to raise his bandaged arm again but then thinks better of it.
"I know, she's crazy. How could you do this to yourself...?"
"You know, if I think about it, the person I know that resembles my assaulter the most is Kirsh," the lead singer spits out.
Pete is quiet for a minute, waiting for his bandmate to add something to his statement. "You can't be serious about this, man. You're not just saying this because I just said she still thinks it's you?"
"I'm not. Kirsh is slim and so was my attacker. I couldn't see the hair but I'd say it was short or else I would have caught a better glimpse of it. Kirsh's hair is short."
"The stalker called KIRSH while I was in the forest. Therefore it can't be her," Pete points out.
The other musician scratches his cheek with his left hand. "You mean Kirsh SAID that the stalker called her," he says matter-of-factly.
"Patrick!"
The men have been standing in front of the door for a few moments now.
Pete grabs him by the shoulder, "Don't mess with me now. You're sounding as insane as Kirsh does. A lot of people are slim and have short hair. Heck, I do!"
"Yeah, Pete, whatever. I was just trying to help, ok? I'll see you around, I need some peace and quiet now." He unlocks the door and slips inside.
Left behind is an utterly confused and insecure Peter Wentz who dreads returning to the car where the police officer is waiting for him.
After a short show that the four band members played there's a signing they have to get through. Pete, Patrick, Andy and Joe are seated behind two plastic tables, busily scribbling their names on various CD booklets, pieces of paper, posters, clothes and body parts.
On the stage they had a substitute guitarist who filled in for Patrick. He wouldn't be able to play for the next few weeks.
"What happened to your arm, Patty?" a girl who looks about 12 asks.
"I cut myself badly, the clumsy dork I am," he pulls a face and grins at her.
She smiles widely at him, "Well, I really hope you get better soon. I love your guitar playing! And singing! Oh, and the overall you."
"Thanks."
She walks away.
"Really?" another girl addresses Patrick. She's got blonde hair and looks somewhat familiar to him, he just can't put his finger on it.
"Yes," he answers.
"I heard you were attacked by the chick who's stalking Pete."
All of the three other men's heads shoot up, they stare at the speaker. Patrick raises an eyebrow.
"How the fuck do you know that?" Pete finally breaks the silence, his voice a pitch higher than usual. This was meant to be kept secret. Only a handful of people know about this. How the fuck does she know?
A second later it hits him: It's the girl in the front row. It's the girl from his first nightmare. She's made repeated appearances in his following dreams, even though it wasn't always her face he saw.
"Oh my God, it's you!" he screams and jumps up from his seat.
Andy, Joe and Patrick stare at him helplessly.
"Kirsh! It's her! I know it, I know it! I saw her in the woods, I remember clearly now! It's her, she's the stalker!" Pete won't calm down, he's pointing at the blonde fan.
Fast as lightning the female detective is at his side and asks him if he's really sure that he saw her at the forest. Pete affirms. Within seconds the blonde finds herself handcuffed and surrounded by four officers. Due to the recent developments the number of bodyguards has been doubled and the police has sent a squad to whatever venue the band has made an appearance at.
"Let go off me! Are you fucking insane?" the girl screeches.
Kirsh smiles, confident of victory. Finally. Stupid conceited girl showed up to convince herself of the effect her actions are having on Wentz.
Get rid of Kirsh my ass, missy.
_ _ _ _ _
Dear faithful readers,
I've put up a little poll on my profile page because I want to give you the chance to decide on how this story ends to thank you for all the wonderful reviews. There's three options and (I think) you can actually click on more than only one if you can't really make up your mind between two.
Thanks for sticking with me & psycho Phebe. :)
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