FicWad

“Bob,” Pen croaked into the phone. She clutched the cold receiver to her face and tried to make herself as small as possible so as not to attract any attention. The prison was cold and unforgiving, and none of the people seemed friendly.

“Penelope?” Bob’s voice came in grainy through the phone.

“Bob!” Relief washed over Pen, causing her to collapse against the phone cradle on the wall. “Bob,” she repeated. “You--you have to come get me. Please, I’m--I got into a little trouble…”

“Penelope, where are you?” Bob said sternly, not in the mood for her to sugar-coat her situation.

“I’m…I’m in jail,” she mumbled into the phone, imagining the disappointment Bob felt etched all over his face.

“Penelope,” Bob sighed, shaking his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose because he could feel a migraine coming on.

“Bob, I’m sorry!” she said quickly. “Please, just come get me. I swear I’ll explain everything when you get here. Don’t tell anyone else, you’re the only one I trust,” she added. He sighed and ran his hand through his blonde hair. He groaned, and Pen took that to mean that he would come get her. “Thank you so much!” she gushed into the phone. “I owe you a big one!”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Try not to get into any trouble between now and then.”

Another month had passed since Pen’s meth-ordeal, and the only lesson she seemed to have learned was how to keep her habits a secret, for the most part. Every so often, someone found her drinking behind a venue, or smoking or snorting with some random strangers. When they discovered her, they did everything short of throwing her out (an option that they didn’t even consider); harsh lectures, screaming fights, not allowing her to go to the shows, nothing worked. She just got sneakier, allowing herself to be caught less and less, until the only proof that she was doing anything was the five men’s own suspicions.

Bob found a friend that lived in the city that the band was currently in and asked to borrow his car for the afternoon to run some errands. In forty-five minutes, he had arrived at the holding center that Pen was at. He signed a few papers and Pen was let out.

“Bob!” she cried, running to him and throwing her arms around the blonde man. Bob almost gasped as he hugged her; it was like hugging a bag of bones. She was so thin, and touching her was like touching a dead body, her skin cold and clammy, tinted a pale yellow. She pulled away and stretched, revealing that her baggy jeans were held up with a length of rope, and a small slip of ghostly-pale stomach. Her hip bones stuck out jaggedly, showing how much weight she had lost in the last month. Upon closer examination of her face, Bob saw that her eyes were underlined by dark rings and her face was sunken and sallow. Her red hair hung limply and lifelessly down to her waist. Bob’s heart nearly broke in half at the sight of how much a life of drugs and partying had changed Penelope for the worse in the span of a month. He noticed that her hands were shaking, and reached to hold one of them. Pen allowed it for a moment, but slipped her hand out of his and walked out of the police station. Bob sighed and shook his head.

He followed her out and led her to the car. “Where’d you get this?” she asked

“Borrowed it from a friend,” he told her, not taking his eyes off the road.

She nodded, looking straight ahead.

“What happened, Penelope?” He finally asked the question that was hanging between them.

“It wasn’t my fault!” she burst out, looking at him defiantly. “I swear! It was an accident, a misunderstanding.”

“Just tell me what happened,” Bob said quietly.

Pen took a deep breath. “So, I was…taking a walk…

…Pen hurried down the street, hands twitching, biting her once-long nails down to the bone. She was sniffing and looking around suspiciously. This was a bad part of town, and she didn’t trust anybody down here. She had met someone at the concert the night before, and he had told her that he could hook her up with coke. He had told her to meet him in some shady alley, but she didn’t care where, as long as she got it. She found him, the sleazy-looking guy from the night before. She timidly approached him.

“No names,” he said as Pen drew closer. “I have an address, and a time. But it’s gonna cost you.”

Pen gulped. All her money was long-gone, as she had spent it on the coke that Gerard now refused to get for her. He had kept his word, and was doing his best to stay sober. Fuck him. “How much?” her voice trembled, and the creep smirked…

“…and I met this guy, and he was trying to sell me some coke…and I told him no! I swear, I told him I wanted nothing to do with it! But…but he wouldn’t let me go!…”

…”How much you got?”

“I…I don’t have--any money…” she said quietly, fear evident in her voice.

“What about that?” the sleaze rubbed his hands together and pointed at the gift she had gotten from Bob at Christmas.

“My bracelet…” she murmured, running her index finger over the braided gold band…

“…And he--he took my bracelet you gave me! He--he--”

“Penelope,” Bob cut in. He swallowed, doing his best to keep the disappointment out of his voice and expression. “You know that I can’t believe you, right?”

“But it’s true! I swear! Bob, your gift meant more to me than that! I swear!” Pen bit her lower lip, letting the tears fly. But Bob was not swayed by her emotion; this was the last straw. He gripped the steering wheel so that his knuckles turned white.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s hear the rest of your little story.”

“…Then he took me to this place…”

…Pen followed the man into some kind of abandoned warehouse. It was cold, and she couldn’t help but shiver, more out of fear than low body temperature. She wanted to back out. But she couldn’t…

“…And it was a sting! The second I got the bag in my hand, the “dealer” pulls out a badge and starts yelling at me and fucking arrests me! It was all just--”

“Yeah, yeah, a misunderstanding, right?” Bob looked at her for a moment, traces of anger evident in his features. “Y’know, Penelope, this whole thing is getting old fast. When the guys are yelling at you, who tells them to knock it off? When they’re talking about not letting you go to a show, who makes them rethink it? When you need to get out of some new situation you’ve gotten yourself into, who always answers the fucking phone? Frankly, I’m sick of it, Penelope! It’s fucking bullshit, is what it is, and I’m tired of being your bitch. Because that’s all I am to you, isn’t it? A bitch? Someone to do your bidding, or get you out of messes?”

“No,” Pen’s eyes grew wide and filled with fresh tears, lower lip trembling. “That’s--that’s not true at all. Bob, you’re the only one--”

“The only one that cares about you. Yeah, I know. Just don’t bother calling me anymore, Penelope, because I might not fucking answer.”

The rest of the drive was done in silence, and when they arrived back at the bus, neither Pen nor Bob offered an explanation as to where they had been. Pen collapsed on the couch and ran her fingers lightly over the bare spot where her bracelet used to be.


See? See? Huh? Eh? I like this chapter a lot. However, it was the cause of confusion on Mibba, so allow me to explain. The guy who brought Pen to the dealer was not a cop, and he was the one who took her bracelet. The cop did not take her bracelet and keep it, in case you were confused. So yeah. Did you like this chapter as much as I do? Comments/Reviews/Whatever-You-Call-'Ems! Please and gracias. OverAndOutxx

Bee-Tee-Dubs: About the whole Great Mibba Debate, I don't really find it complicated or anything. Then again, I've been using it for a while now. I guess when you're new anything'll seem confusing. Then you get into the run of everything and it seems normal. But I dunno. Whatevs. So yeah. Kthxbai