Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Wake Me Up When The Nightmare Ends
Ashlee had long since cried herself to sleep; a psychopath had her son and neither she nor Pete could do anything about it. Deep furrows in his brow, pale skin and reddened eyes marked Pete as having joined his wife in her desperation. No matter what Patrick’s reasons for doing this, it remained that he had, and that he had handed their son, their baby boy, who he claimed to love as much as if he were his own, over to the maniac who had stalked his wife and threatened his life. It was beyond comprehension. Leaning against the back wall, he cradled his sleeping wife in his arms, stroking her hair and listening to her restless sighs and whimpers. He knew she was dreaming of their baby. He had vowed vengeance only hours earlier, but all he really wanted at this moment was to get Ashlee and Bronx to safety. He would be happy to remain, to take any amount of suffering for them. Sadly, it wasn’t a choice he could make. Logic told him that Houseman was helping Patrick for one reason and one reason only and he already had him.
*
Matthew sighed heavily as he entered the warehouse. Even from the outer rooms that had once been an abattoir, he could hear the screaming and he closed his eyes in frustration.
“Get the woman and bring her to the office,” he demanded of Shawn, his clipped voice giving away something of his anger and frustration.
Stalking the length of the empty corridors towards the office, Matthew had a pretty shrewd idea what he would find and pushing the door so hard that it slammed back into the wall revealed that he was right. Inside he could see the child still strapped inside the car seat, screaming and crying. In the centre of the room, Connor paced, his hands clamped over his ears, his fingers in his hair.
“I knew this would happen!” Matthew snapped, trying to keep his voice subdued so as not to upset Bronx further.
“He won’t shut up!” Connor turned a stressed expression towards Patrick’s twin.
“Please tell me you haven’t hit him,” he asked, eyeing the boy for marks.
“No!” Connor protested. “I haven’t done anything!”
The statement, Matthew realised was absolutely correct; Connor had neglected the boy. He needed feeding and changing. Matthew took a deep breath.
“Get out!” he snapped angrily.
“It’s not my fault!” Connor replied in a high-pitched, distressed tone.
“You know who raised me, Connor?” Matthew asked rhetorically. “A freak-out, crazy drug addict not even out of her teens. She did a lousy job before she died of an overdose when I was fifteen. Tell me again why I should place another innocent child in the hands of a psycho!”
“I’m not a psycho!” Connor insisted. “He’s mine! I just… he won’t shut up!”
“Get out, Connor.” Matthew sighed. “Just get out!”
“But… what about…?”
“I’ll look after him.”
“He’s mine!”
“When this is over, I’ll show you how to look after him. Okay?”
“Can you make him shut up?” Connor asked incredulously.
“Yes, now… just go.”
*
Patrick pulled into the hospital parking lot, still puzzling over how he managed to get there at breakneck speed without being stopped by the police. But when it came down to it, he didn’t really care, so long as he was there. Fishing the phone from his pocket, he pressed the redial button and was relieved when Andy answered almost immediately.
“How is he?” he asked quickly, without so much as a greeting for the stressed drummer.
“He’s… uh… you better come in,” Andy’s reply was flat and evasive.
“Andy! Don’t do this to me! Is he okay?”
“No, Patrick, he’s not okay.”
A tidal wave of grief hit Patrick and he found himself blindsided by it. He knew he was stammering something into the phone, but he had no idea what.
“Just come in, Patrick.”
Andy’s voice sounded bitter and angry as he gave directions on where to find him. At first Andy’s tone was something of a surprise to him but he soon realised that anger would be a perfectly natural response. Patrick didn’t know the details, but he gathered that either Andy had been with him or had found him and very possibly blamed himself for not getting him to the hospital sooner. Knowing Andy, he doubted that it was even conceivable that anyone could have done more. Patrick collected his thoughts; he needed to push aside his own sadness and be strong for Andy; he could grieve in private for his friend later. Fleetingly he wondered why Pete still hadn’t got in touch with him. How would he tell him about this? It was unthinkable to tell him via a simple text message, but it was bound to find its way onto the Internet within the hour – that surely had to be a worse way to find out? With a nod to himself, he decided he would discuss it with Andy.
His sorrow should have slowed him, but he was keen to find his friend and comfort him. The hospital staff had, apparently, found them a private waiting room away from prying eyes and if he had imagined the scene that awaited him, he would have been sorely mistaken.
“Andy?”
Walking to the door, Andy waited until Patrick had closed it behind him before reaching out and slamming him hard against it.
“You fucking bastard! Why did you do it?”
Patrick’s eyes widened at the sudden and unexpected accusation.
“Wh… what? Do what? Andy? What are you talking about?” He stammered in confusion.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two police officers step forward on his left, one already holding handcuffs. What the hell was going on? What did Andy mean?
“Patrick Stump, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Joseph Trohman. Anything you say may be used in evidence…”
“Attempted murder? Joe?” Patrick shouted over the police as they informed him of his rights. “Andy! What’s happening?”
“They cut off the tape he was bound with and they found hairs stuck within the layers. Your hair, Patrick! An exact thickness, structure and colour match, down to the follicle! Your hair! They’re doing a DNA test on it, but they’re sure it’s you!” He screamed, his voice cracking as he did. “How could you fucking do it, Patrick? Why?”
Now handcuffed and, in his distress, being led easily from the room, Patrick was aghast, uncertain what to think or feel, let alone say.
“Wait!” He managed, finally realising the wording they used. “You said attempted murder?”
“Yeah, you didn’t manage it. He’s critical, but stable. When he wakes… when…” Andy paused as a new horror hit him. “And what the fuck have you done with Pete? Is he dead? Is he?”
Patrick was dumbstruck. He had been framed for the attack on Joe and worst of all, he had no alibi. A fruitless journey upstate had seen to that. Even the unlikely event of him not being stopped for speeding on his return now seemed to conspire against him. Finally, Andy’s new concern bore into him. Was his best friend in trouble too?
*
Matthew sighed heavily as he entered the warehouse. Even from the outer rooms that had once been an abattoir, he could hear the screaming and he closed his eyes in frustration.
“Get the woman and bring her to the office,” he demanded of Shawn, his clipped voice giving away something of his anger and frustration.
Stalking the length of the empty corridors towards the office, Matthew had a pretty shrewd idea what he would find and pushing the door so hard that it slammed back into the wall revealed that he was right. Inside he could see the child still strapped inside the car seat, screaming and crying. In the centre of the room, Connor paced, his hands clamped over his ears, his fingers in his hair.
“I knew this would happen!” Matthew snapped, trying to keep his voice subdued so as not to upset Bronx further.
“He won’t shut up!” Connor turned a stressed expression towards Patrick’s twin.
“Please tell me you haven’t hit him,” he asked, eyeing the boy for marks.
“No!” Connor protested. “I haven’t done anything!”
The statement, Matthew realised was absolutely correct; Connor had neglected the boy. He needed feeding and changing. Matthew took a deep breath.
“Get out!” he snapped angrily.
“It’s not my fault!” Connor replied in a high-pitched, distressed tone.
“You know who raised me, Connor?” Matthew asked rhetorically. “A freak-out, crazy drug addict not even out of her teens. She did a lousy job before she died of an overdose when I was fifteen. Tell me again why I should place another innocent child in the hands of a psycho!”
“I’m not a psycho!” Connor insisted. “He’s mine! I just… he won’t shut up!”
“Get out, Connor.” Matthew sighed. “Just get out!”
“But… what about…?”
“I’ll look after him.”
“He’s mine!”
“When this is over, I’ll show you how to look after him. Okay?”
“Can you make him shut up?” Connor asked incredulously.
“Yes, now… just go.”
*
Patrick pulled into the hospital parking lot, still puzzling over how he managed to get there at breakneck speed without being stopped by the police. But when it came down to it, he didn’t really care, so long as he was there. Fishing the phone from his pocket, he pressed the redial button and was relieved when Andy answered almost immediately.
“How is he?” he asked quickly, without so much as a greeting for the stressed drummer.
“He’s… uh… you better come in,” Andy’s reply was flat and evasive.
“Andy! Don’t do this to me! Is he okay?”
“No, Patrick, he’s not okay.”
A tidal wave of grief hit Patrick and he found himself blindsided by it. He knew he was stammering something into the phone, but he had no idea what.
“Just come in, Patrick.”
Andy’s voice sounded bitter and angry as he gave directions on where to find him. At first Andy’s tone was something of a surprise to him but he soon realised that anger would be a perfectly natural response. Patrick didn’t know the details, but he gathered that either Andy had been with him or had found him and very possibly blamed himself for not getting him to the hospital sooner. Knowing Andy, he doubted that it was even conceivable that anyone could have done more. Patrick collected his thoughts; he needed to push aside his own sadness and be strong for Andy; he could grieve in private for his friend later. Fleetingly he wondered why Pete still hadn’t got in touch with him. How would he tell him about this? It was unthinkable to tell him via a simple text message, but it was bound to find its way onto the Internet within the hour – that surely had to be a worse way to find out? With a nod to himself, he decided he would discuss it with Andy.
His sorrow should have slowed him, but he was keen to find his friend and comfort him. The hospital staff had, apparently, found them a private waiting room away from prying eyes and if he had imagined the scene that awaited him, he would have been sorely mistaken.
“Andy?”
Walking to the door, Andy waited until Patrick had closed it behind him before reaching out and slamming him hard against it.
“You fucking bastard! Why did you do it?”
Patrick’s eyes widened at the sudden and unexpected accusation.
“Wh… what? Do what? Andy? What are you talking about?” He stammered in confusion.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two police officers step forward on his left, one already holding handcuffs. What the hell was going on? What did Andy mean?
“Patrick Stump, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Joseph Trohman. Anything you say may be used in evidence…”
“Attempted murder? Joe?” Patrick shouted over the police as they informed him of his rights. “Andy! What’s happening?”
“They cut off the tape he was bound with and they found hairs stuck within the layers. Your hair, Patrick! An exact thickness, structure and colour match, down to the follicle! Your hair! They’re doing a DNA test on it, but they’re sure it’s you!” He screamed, his voice cracking as he did. “How could you fucking do it, Patrick? Why?”
Now handcuffed and, in his distress, being led easily from the room, Patrick was aghast, uncertain what to think or feel, let alone say.
“Wait!” He managed, finally realising the wording they used. “You said attempted murder?”
“Yeah, you didn’t manage it. He’s critical, but stable. When he wakes… when…” Andy paused as a new horror hit him. “And what the fuck have you done with Pete? Is he dead? Is he?”
Patrick was dumbstruck. He had been framed for the attack on Joe and worst of all, he had no alibi. A fruitless journey upstate had seen to that. Even the unlikely event of him not being stopped for speeding on his return now seemed to conspire against him. Finally, Andy’s new concern bore into him. Was his best friend in trouble too?
Sign up to rate and review this story