Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Long Live The Car Crash Hearts
Lyric's POV
I lay on the mattress that set on the floor of my new room, staring at the picture of me and Adam, tears staining my face. There was a knock on my door. I opened it to find a somber looking Pete on the other side.
"What?" I asked, disgusted at the fact that I was living with the bane of my existance.
"Lyric I... I'm really sorry," he said looking at his shoes.
"Already been established. I don't care if you're sorry," I said coldly.
"It was an accident! I didn't mean to kill him!"Pete said, a look of horror falling over his face, "I'm a murderer," he whispered.
"Yeah. You are. If you hadn't killed him it would have been some other guy! Just because you're a rockstar or whatever doesn't make it ok!" I screeched.
"I know it's not ok! I'm sorry! Why can't you just accept that?!" he hollered.
"You took him away from me. Adam was the first good thing that's ever happened to me, and he's gone because of you," I sobbed. Breaking down right here infront of him, great way to stay strong, Lyric.
"You wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and slit your throat!" he yelled, storming away. I threw myself back on my bed and cried myself to sleep. I awoke the next morning, sunlight streaming through the window hitting my face. I thought the day after some one died the world was supposed to be grey and stormy. Whatever happened to that? I sighed and climbed out of bed. I guess they're right. The sun does rise again, you have to carry on. I thought to myself. I walked out of my room and into the kitchen. Pete and Patrick sat at the table eating cereal. I walked past them, shooting Pete the worst look possible. I grabbed the phone and walked back to my room, preparing myself for the most painful experience of my life. I called the funeral home, it was arranged for next Friday. I called Adam's parents, who were distraught. By the time all the phone calls had been made I had cried my eyes out and then some, and I hated myslef for killing a forest and a half with all the tissues I used.
Pete's POV
I feel awful, I killed a guy. When I did that, this was the feeling I was aiming to rid myself of. Instead I killed some poor guy who was perfectly content, and ruined the life of an otherwise great girl. This might sound kind of sick, but I really like Lyric. How wrong is that? I mean, I killed her fiancé. Still trying to process that one.
Lyric's POV
The next Friday
We arrived at the funeral home, and I was terrified. I had never been a fan of death. I hated this. But I had to hold up. Patrick walked beside me, offering a reassuring smile. Pete walked a few feet behind, not daring to look up from the ground.
For most of the funeral I sat in the foyer, I was terrified of seeing bodies like that, especially one so close to me. Near the end Patrick dragged me in there, telling me it was only right. I gazed at Adam's peaceful face, wondering how someone could be so selfish, so cold. I walked out of the room and sat down again. People began leaving, paying respects as they went. When everyone else was gone a woman and a little girl approached me with Adam's parents.
"I'm sorry my daddy died," the little girl said. I gave the group a confused look.
"Your daddy?" I asked.
"Yes. And my husband," The woman said, flashing a ring on her finger.
I glanced at his parents, but they only nodded. What the hell? Even Pete and Patrick looked shocked. I was at loss for words.
"Husband?" was all Patrick could manage.
"Yes, Myra is a..." Adam's father started.
"Prostitute, you understand," his mother finished.
"But the reason I came," Myra started, Figures she doesn't care. "Hope is your problem now." She said, pushing the little girl towards me.
"Do what now?" Patrick, Pete, and I all asked in unison. Hope looked up at her mother, a look of both shock and fear fell over her face.
"Mommy what's going on?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"Shut up, bastard child," Hope immediatly started crying.
"I was going to turn her over to Adam this week any way," Myra finished, walking out. Patrick, Pete, and I exchanged nervous glances. How are we going to take care of a kid?
I lay on the mattress that set on the floor of my new room, staring at the picture of me and Adam, tears staining my face. There was a knock on my door. I opened it to find a somber looking Pete on the other side.
"What?" I asked, disgusted at the fact that I was living with the bane of my existance.
"Lyric I... I'm really sorry," he said looking at his shoes.
"Already been established. I don't care if you're sorry," I said coldly.
"It was an accident! I didn't mean to kill him!"Pete said, a look of horror falling over his face, "I'm a murderer," he whispered.
"Yeah. You are. If you hadn't killed him it would have been some other guy! Just because you're a rockstar or whatever doesn't make it ok!" I screeched.
"I know it's not ok! I'm sorry! Why can't you just accept that?!" he hollered.
"You took him away from me. Adam was the first good thing that's ever happened to me, and he's gone because of you," I sobbed. Breaking down right here infront of him, great way to stay strong, Lyric.
"You wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and slit your throat!" he yelled, storming away. I threw myself back on my bed and cried myself to sleep. I awoke the next morning, sunlight streaming through the window hitting my face. I thought the day after some one died the world was supposed to be grey and stormy. Whatever happened to that? I sighed and climbed out of bed. I guess they're right. The sun does rise again, you have to carry on. I thought to myself. I walked out of my room and into the kitchen. Pete and Patrick sat at the table eating cereal. I walked past them, shooting Pete the worst look possible. I grabbed the phone and walked back to my room, preparing myself for the most painful experience of my life. I called the funeral home, it was arranged for next Friday. I called Adam's parents, who were distraught. By the time all the phone calls had been made I had cried my eyes out and then some, and I hated myslef for killing a forest and a half with all the tissues I used.
Pete's POV
I feel awful, I killed a guy. When I did that, this was the feeling I was aiming to rid myself of. Instead I killed some poor guy who was perfectly content, and ruined the life of an otherwise great girl. This might sound kind of sick, but I really like Lyric. How wrong is that? I mean, I killed her fiancé. Still trying to process that one.
Lyric's POV
The next Friday
We arrived at the funeral home, and I was terrified. I had never been a fan of death. I hated this. But I had to hold up. Patrick walked beside me, offering a reassuring smile. Pete walked a few feet behind, not daring to look up from the ground.
For most of the funeral I sat in the foyer, I was terrified of seeing bodies like that, especially one so close to me. Near the end Patrick dragged me in there, telling me it was only right. I gazed at Adam's peaceful face, wondering how someone could be so selfish, so cold. I walked out of the room and sat down again. People began leaving, paying respects as they went. When everyone else was gone a woman and a little girl approached me with Adam's parents.
"I'm sorry my daddy died," the little girl said. I gave the group a confused look.
"Your daddy?" I asked.
"Yes. And my husband," The woman said, flashing a ring on her finger.
I glanced at his parents, but they only nodded. What the hell? Even Pete and Patrick looked shocked. I was at loss for words.
"Husband?" was all Patrick could manage.
"Yes, Myra is a..." Adam's father started.
"Prostitute, you understand," his mother finished.
"But the reason I came," Myra started, Figures she doesn't care. "Hope is your problem now." She said, pushing the little girl towards me.
"Do what now?" Patrick, Pete, and I all asked in unison. Hope looked up at her mother, a look of both shock and fear fell over her face.
"Mommy what's going on?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"Shut up, bastard child," Hope immediatly started crying.
"I was going to turn her over to Adam this week any way," Myra finished, walking out. Patrick, Pete, and I exchanged nervous glances. How are we going to take care of a kid?
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