FicWad

AN: So, this one time I had a dream that Pete was in the movie "See No Evil". And last night I had a dream that Pete was in "Saw". I smell his next career move!

I woke up before my dream ended, so I made it up. I'm very excited about this story; I hope you horror fans enjoy it!
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"Dying to be Alive" by getupngo

We're all on the ground, just crying out
Somebody save me please


Pete woke up with his head pounding. What time was it? The last thing he remembered was screaming at his fiancé. They were fighting...again. He opened his eyes and suddenly panicked. Why couldn't he see anything? It was pitch black and he felt cold concrete beneath him. A faint ticking noise could be heard in the distance. What was that? Suddenly the ticking stopped and dim lights flickered on and Pete blinked through them. He let his eyes adjust and then noticed he was sitting in a dirty empty room. To his left was a rusty bathtub and further down the room he saw...Jacey?

"Baby?" he croaked, but his throat was sore and parched. He went to stand but found his ankle was chained to a large pipe.

"What the fu...?" he questioned. He heard a groan from the other side of the room where his fiancé was laying on a dirty cot. Jacey woke up and felt every muscle in her body on fire. What was happening? She squinted through the room, her vision blurry from the odd pains shooting through her system. She smiled softly as she saw Pete gazing at her, she was home. It was okay...it was just a dream.

"Oh my god, Jacey? Are you okay?" she heard him ask. His voice made her head pound. What did he mean? Weren't they...she took a better look at her surroundings. She quickly noticed the disgusting cot she was laying on a sat up quickly, causing all of her muscles to scream at her. Her boyfriend was chained by his ankle to a large pipe. What was going on?! In a sudden fit of panicked anxiety, Jacey led her screaming muscles to the floor and tried to get to Pete, when she felt a tug on her ankle. She was chained to this awful cot. She closed her eyes as she felt the tears begin to slip from her eyes.

"Jacey, don't cry. Please," Pete pleaded to her softly. She lay down on the cold concrete and reached out to him. He was so far away. Pete copied her motions and lay down with his arms outstretched. Their fingers tips barely touched. Jacey just wanted Pete to hold her, to make the pain in her body go away. She suddenly felt like the only thing she wanted was to breathe him in as she died. What was going on?

"Pete...I'm so scared. What's happening? Every muscle in my body aches," she said in a low whisper. Pete shook his head and he rubbed their fingers tips together. His mind was reeling. How did they get here?

"I love you. You know that right? Whatever I said earlier, I didn't mean it. You are the most important person in the world to me and I'm going to get us out of here. I promise," Pete said, his eyes gazing deep into hers. She smiled softly and nodded.

"I know. I love you too," she replied. Pete kept his feeble grasp on Jacey fingers and peered around the dim room. There had to be something. A little way from the couple on the floor was a small black tape player. Pete reached over to it and could barely touch it, but was able to pull it closer. Jacey gazed at it in question as Pete took a wary glance at her. With his shaking hand he hit play:

"Hello, Pete. I want to play a game. You've made your name with an attitude towards life that can only be described as self destructive. You have so much in your life to be thankful for, but you refuse to concentrate on that and you only think about the bad. You are chained to this room because it's time for you to see what is really important in life. The disorder you cling to as your excuse for creating drama is not real. The visits to a therapist are unnecessary. In front of you is the girl you claim to be the love of your life. If that's the case, what would you do to save her life? Would you risk your own if she was guaranteed to walk free? Jacey here has everything she could ever need, but nothing is ever good enough for her. Hopefully she will learn the value of life's simple pleasures. You, Pete, hold the key to her freedom and yours. You have exactly three hours before she dies. She has been injected with a poison that if the antidote is not given within three hours, it will shut down her nervous system and cause heart failure. The antidote is somewhere in the room. What will you do to save a life Pete Wentz? Oh yes and try not to exert your usual amount of anger. It won't help you here. You have three hours; it is currently five o' clock. Good luck."

Jacey had reduced herself into full on shock. Her entire body was heaving with heavy tears and sobs. Pete felt all of his color drain from his face. How the fuck did this happen? He was a heavily watched super star, someone was going to obviously notice he was gone if he died here. Jacey hiccupped amongst her insane pain and it caused Pete to remember the situation at hand. She was dying...

"Baby? Baby, look at me. Please, look at me," he said sternly. Jacey looked up and quieted her misery. She peered in Pete's eyes and saw the usual amount of foolish bravery. She shook her head, feeling like she should just give up hope; Pete was too much of a loose fuse to think enough to get them out of here safely. She made eye contact with him as he spoke softly, "Go lay down over there and rest, okay? I'm going to get you out of here if it kills me. I promise. I love you so much," he said. Jacey sniffled and nodded. As she stood up she felt her pulse escalate quickly. This poison was strong and her whole body was feeling its effects. Her muscles continued to burn as she slowly crawled her way back to the dirty cot and lay down, closing her eyes, wishing to be out in the sunlight...or moonlight. Just wishing for fresh air...

Pete sat up and thought hard. This room was so dark, how was he supposed to find anything, let alone a tiny bottle and syringe? Over on the other side of the room was a pile of what looked like old t-shirts. A little too obvious, he thought, but it's worth a shot. He got on his hands and knees and crawled over to the pile of dirty shirts. He was almost too far away from them, but pulled himself closer, the shackle around his ankle digging into his flesh. Pete groaned in pain as he started pulling each shirt away from the pile. He pulled the fourth one out and small key clattered to the ground. Feeling excited, he reached for it and sat up. He quickly went straight for the constraint around his ankle and slipped the key in and turned it. He heard a click as the lock opened and he pulled the shackle away. /That was way too easy/, he thought. He sat and stared at his new freedom for a minute, thinking hard about why that was so simple. He glanced over to Jacey, and suddenly rushed to his feet. He knelt at the edge of the cot and wrapped his arms tightly around her. God he loved her so much, he didn't want her to die. He would take a bullet for her, but never honestly thought he'd be faced with that dilemma. But here it was and he certainly wasn't going to let her die, not at his own hands.

"Pete," she said softly, her freezing cold hands grasping and his shoulders, pulling him as close as possible. "I'm so cold," she said. He nodded and rubbed her arms for a minute, his eyes searching the room as his mind went over scenarios. He pulled his hoodie off and wrapped it around Jacey, who shivered but was thankful for the new warmth that also happened to smell just like Pete. She relished in the smell, suddenly very thankful for such small pleasures as the scent of her boyfriend and the warmth of a sweatshirt. Pete leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss giving him some small amount of hope and comfort. He leaned his forehead on hers and just held her for one more minute before standing again.

"Pete! Please don't leave me here," Jacey said as she felt him move away. He looked at her, then knelt down and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be right here. I'm going to get us out of here. I love you," he said. Jacey nodded and closed her eyes, hearing Pete walking away from her.

Pete sighed as he began searching the perimeter of the room. This felt so hopeless. His fiancé was dying and he felt so hopeless, wondering what the threat was to his life. Surely there was something that could kill him around here. He felt fairly certain of it. He reached the bathtub which was filled with murky water and was truly apprehensive of reaching in the cloudy water, but rolled up his sleeves and took a deep breath. The water was warm, which Pete found strange. That meant that it must've been filled recently. He felt around the bottom for a while, only to come back empty handed. Determined, he reached back into the water once more, feeling around for a plug. He felt the chain floating in the water and the plug in the drain. Not waiting anything to slip down the pipe, he reached the other hand underneath the water and placed his fingers by the stopper, so they acted like a filter so he could catch and object, but the water would drain out. As he watched the water filter away, nothing was hitting his hand and he was disappointed to find that the tub really was empty. He tossed the stopped into the rusty tub and felt his temper begin to rise. He needed his pills. Angrily Pete stopped over to a filthy toilet on the other wall. He took a deep breath as he flipped up the dirty lid. There was nothing in the toilet bowl but more filth. Pete reached to the back of the toilet, lifting the heavy ceramic lid and placing in beside the toilet. He peered inside but once again saw nothing but murky water. Feeling disgusted that he had to actually reach in there; he closed his eyes and plunged his arm into the toilet water. He felt around, feeling only the tiny pipes for a while before he yelped as he felt something sharp hit him. He quickly yanked his arm from the water, only to find a tiny syringe sticking out of his index finger. Shivering, Pete yanked the needle for his finger and watched himself start to bleed; feeling like this must have been the threat to his life. Now he had hepatitis.

His mind then traveled to the fact that he would have to stick this dirty needle into his girlfriend's arm. He looked up at her and felt tears begin to well in his eyes. She wasn't going to die, she wasn't going to die. He kept repeating that sentence in his mind. She wasn't going to die. He continued on to the next part of the room. Hiding in the darkest corner of the room, Pete suddenly noticed, was a metal box. He rushed to it, pulling the same key out of his pocket. He placed it in the lock and opened the lid. Inside was another tape player. Pete felt anger again, he just wanted to save Jacey and go home to be with her and his puppy. He was sorry for always being so dramatic, he was sorry for lamenting over all the things wrong in his life, he knew he had an amazing life. He knew the things he had to be thankful for were plentiful, but when you can't sleep at night, the only things you think about are the bad things. He reached in and pressed play:

"Congratulations. You've completed the easy tasks. Good job on not losing your temper thus far. Jacey is slowly slipping away for you, Pete and time is running out. Somewhere in here is a bottle of alcohol to clean off the syringe. You also still need to find the antidote. This room may look empty, but the answer is closer to you then you think." The tape stopped. /Well, that was helpful/, Pete thought to himself. He reached in the box once more and pulled out some pictures. He cringed at them. They were his infamous naked pictures, as well as shots the paparazzi had taken of him while he was making his most recent album in LA. Jacey would be so upset to see these, he wasn't proud of these nights. He was wondering why this was important, when he got to the last picture. It was an x-ray photo of his left forearm. Underneath his skin's surface was a key.

"Oh, what the FUCK!" Pete screamed. Jacey snapped her eyes open at Pete's voice, which was suddenly very loud.

"Honey, what's the matter?" she asked softly. Pete turned his head to her and felt heavy with the weight of this situation being on him. Jacey's face was extremely pale now, her lips a slight shade of blue. Pete felt his heart breaking. He had to do this, he had to carry on. He grabbed a knife out of the box and held onto it. First, he was going to find where this key belonged and then he was going to slice open his very own arm to save his love. He stood up and felt so worn out from the emotions coursing through him. He walked begrudgingly to the opposite side of the room, his finger running over the blade on the knife. There was a fuse box sitting on the wall that Pete thought what the hell. He opened it to see nothing but switches and sighed. Where else could something be hidden? He walked over to the cot and kneeled down to Jacey.

"Baby? Can you sit up at all? I just need to check something," he spoke to her softly. He didn't want to alarm her; she needed all of her strength. Wearily, she opened her eyes. Pete rested his hand on her pale cheek, kissing the tip of her nose. She made a motion to sit up, but her body fought back. She could barely life her own body with her arms. As she was falling back to the cot, Pete reached out and caught her, helping her sit up and she groaned out in pain. Pete held his breath; he hated knowing how much pain she was in and not being able to help her. Jacey leaned up against the wall, using all the power she had to keep herself sitting straight. Pete flipped the flimsy mattress up only to see nothing beneath it. He flipped up the opposite side and was again met with no results. Jacey couldn't keep her body up anymore and slowly slid down the wall. Pete reached over and carefully helped her lay back down. He lifted her head up and she got settled and pulled the pillow out from underneath her. He yanked the dirty pillow case away and then sat down on the floor with the uncovered pillow. He took the knife and dug it into the fabric, careful to not puncture anything that could be inside. He ripped open the rest of the fabric and then started to pull the stuffing apart. His eyes got wide when he came across an envelope. He ripped the tan paper open and saw with joy a tiny box inside. His sudden happiness was quickly dissolved as he realized what had to happen next. He looked at Jacey, her face contorted in pain. Her breath was getting shallow. He crawled up to her and rested his head by her, taking in his last moments of comfort by her body.

"God damn it, Jacey. I love you so much. I'm not going to lose you. Fuck..." he said, his voice getting tight in his throat. Her eyes fluttered open and she peered at him.

"What's wrong, Petey?" she asked him, her voice barely above a whisper. He looked at her, the sadness in his eyes causing her form to go blurry. He shook his head.

"Put the hood up and don't look at me, okay? No matter what you here, just keep your eyes closed. Promise me?" he said, trying to sound strong and brave. He really felt like just slitting his own throat and Jacey's, just so they wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

"Pete? What? I can't...what are you talking about?" she said, suddenly letting concern overwhelm the pain in her heart and muscles. Pete closed his eyes, shutting the tears away. He couldn't look at her anymore.

"Just promise me, Jacey! Don't look at me no matter what you hear! I've got to do this. I have to save you," he said, his resolve getting weaker. Jacey stared at him for a moment.

"Peter?" she said, her voice calm again. Reluctantly, he turned his eyes to her once more. She smiled through her anguish and took in his eyes and his face. He was the most attractive man in the world to her, his flaws and his perfections. Everything about him was perfect in her eyes. "I'm always going to love you. Don't be scared anymore, not for me. It's all going to be okay," she said, her breath catching in her throat. She was going to die very soon, she could feel it. She was having the worst time breathing and all of her muscles were cramping. Pete felt alarmed suddenly. These sounded like last words. He crawled over to her and ran his hand down her arm. He shook his head.

"No. No, not now. Hang on, please! Jacey, just a few more minutes," he kissed her quickly, then reached back and pulled the hood from his sweatshirt up over her head. "Don't open your eyes. Just hang on," he pleaded. She took a shaky breath and nodded slightly. Pete started to shake. He took a deep breath, and sat down, facing Jacey. He reached down and grabbed the knife in his hand. He looked at it for a second, then took off his t-shirt and crumpled it into a ball, stuffing part of it in his mouth. He didn't want to scream, but he knew he was going to anyway.

With one last deep breath, Pete took the knife in his right hand and scratched at the surface of his skin. This was going to take too long, he had to dig. Okay, Wentz. Just fucking do it. You know it's going to hurt like a mother fucker, but you have to do this. He took one last deep breath and dug the knife into his forearm. He screamed loudly, the sound muffled by the fabric in his mouth. The pain was like nothing he had ever imagined. He had only made a small cut; he knew he was going to have to slice more. He drug the sharp edge of the knife across his skin, penetrating about a quarter of an inch. He hollered, tears sliding down his cheeks. /Fuck, fuck, fuck! This hurts so fucking bad! /Finally, he felt that he had cut deep enough and long enough and dropped the knife to the ground. Taking another deep breath and biting down hard on the t-shirt, he stuck his fingers into his cut. His fingers were dirty and the sensation was horrible. The gash was burning; his arm felt like it was on fire. His fingers slipped around in his own blood. How the hell was he supposed to find a key in here? He was screaming nonstop now, the pain was unreal. His whole arm and both of his hands were drenched in his own blood. He cried as he watched his life slide out. Then he saw it, pooling by his wrist, and a tiny fleck of gold amongst all the crimson. He grasped it; the key was slippery from his blood. With his shaking body, he reached down to the tiny box with his good arm, stepping on the lid and sliding the key in. He took his foot off and opened the lid. He sniffled as his eyes landed on exactly what he was looking for. There was a tiny bottle of alcohol to stick the syringe in and a tiny bottle of what he prayed to god was the antidote. As his cut continued to gush blood, he reached down and grabbed both bottles with his bloody left hand and grabbed the syringe with his right. He stuck the needle point in the alcohol, and then quickly stuck it in the antidote. He pulled the syringe and watched with as much joy as he could as it began to fill with liquid. He quickly let the bottles drop to the ground and crawled over to Jacey. He ripped at the zipper on the hoodie and pulled the sleeve off of her right arm. She stirred very slightly; she was minutes away from her death. Pete steadied himself as much as possible. He felt extremely light headed and just wanted to lie down. He put the needle to the inside of her arm and looked for a vein. It was so dark, the task was nearly impossible and his vision was so blurry. Finally he saw a thin blue line in her arm and pressed in the needle. For someone who was so deathly afraid of needles as Jacey was, she didn't budge. Pete pressed the syringe in and prayed to god that she was going to recover soon. He needed help. He was dying now. He was losing too much blood. Once the syringe was empty, he pulled the needle out and collapsed on the floor.

Jacey wasn't sure how much time lapsed between feeling the needle and her beginning to feel better. But she soon felt good enough to at least sit up and did so with much effort. She let her eyes begin to focus on the room and panicked when she realized Pete was nowhere to be seen. She then looked down and saw him on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. Alarmed she got to his side on the floor and rolled him over on his back, screaming when she saw the gash still leaking blood on his arm.

"Oh my god, Pete! Pete! Can you hear me? Holy shit, baby, are you okay. Oh shit..." she said. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to save himself; she would've gladly died for him. He moaned softly, opening his eyes a little to see Jacey. She was safe, she had more color.

"Fuck, baby, I love you. I'm so sorry. I can't hang on much longer," he said, his voice low. She shook her head, the tears streaming down her face.

"You have to; we're going to get out of here right now. Stand up, please. I'm going to get you help. I'm so glad you are in my life, I could never ask for anything more," she grabbed the t-shirt from the floor and pressed the fabric to his wound. She wrapped the shirt around his arm and tied it tightly, "I love you so much and you are all I'm ever going to need. As long as I have you, I know I'm never going to be without fortune. Please, Pete! Get up!" she cried. He smiled.

"I love you too. I'm so thankful for everyday we've spent together. I cheated on you and I'm so sorry. I won't ever do that again. I love my life; it's so good to me. I'm the luckiest guy I've ever known," he said, attempting a smile. Jacey smiled through her tears.

"Get up, Pete." She begged one last time. He slowly sat up, his strength was minimal, but he managed to get to his feet, leaning on Jacey for support, now and for the rest of his living days, he resolved. As the couple got to their feet, they both heard a click from the other end of the room. They stared at the direction of the noise and headed for it. They reached the end of the room and Jacey saw a door handle. She took a deep breath and pulled. The door slid open as she continued to pull, revealing to the couple a dimly lit hallway. She gazed at Pete and he looked at her. The lovers now knew the true meaning of happiness and slowly began to make their way up the long, dim corridor...

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And we all come, tumbling down
No matter how strong
We all return to the ground
Another day gone, a day closer to fate
And soon we'll find it's a little bit too late