Pete's POV

It hurts. I can't take it anymore. For three years I've carried this and I can't do it anymore. "Pete...Pete! Are you listening?" I blink and look up at my friend. "Yeah I'm listening." I send him a weak smile but he seems unsure. "Alright, whatever. Anyway, as I was saying, Patrick wants us to go over to his to practice." Joe tells me. Patrick's someone I've known for a long time. We started a band together. Then it happened and they locked me up for years. We haven't seen each other since. I nod and drink the rest of my coffee. "Ok. Let me get my boots on and we'll go." I pull my boots on and take my phone off charge.

"Ok you got everything?" Joe asks. I look at my phone screen and nod. "Oh no wait." I put my phone in my pocket and search through the cupboard for my meds. "Have you taken them today?" I shake my head. "You know I hate taking them. I'm not me, I'm not in control of my emotions and feelings." I say. "I know but the real you is broken. We want the Pete that smiles. We wa-"

"So is the real me not good enough for you?" Sarcasm drips from my words. "Pete come on, you know we do. But we want you to be happy!"

"Yeah well it's gonna take more than pills and being locked in a padded cell in a straight jacket for a year, for me to be truly happy." Joe closes his mouth and just grabs his car keys. "Ok, I'm going to ask again, have you got everything?" I start to nod then stop.

"Oh shit, I need my bass." I remember. "Fine, I'll be in the car." Joe says. Racing upstairs, I see my bedroom door it's already open. Weird, I distinctly remember closing it.  My bass sits in the corner, abandoned after months of neglect. It feels slightly heavier than I remember. I look at it and run my fingers over the strings, feeling the roughness under my skin. My fingers remember patterns and rhythms, playing strings and melodies effortlessly. A car horn brings me back to reality. I place my bass in it's case and hurry out to the car, making sure to lock the door on the way out.

"Do you get lost or something?" Joe jokes. My mouth twitches upwards into something that resembles a smile and shake my head. "Nah, just...thinking." I say. "You've been thinking a lot recently. What's left to think about?"

"The answer to life, the Universe and everything?" I suggest. "Nope, that's easy. It's 42."

"You're an idiot."

"I know you are but what am I?" I laugh and lightly punch his arm. "Careful Wentz. I could easily crash this car." Joe threatens. "Nah you wouldn't. You wouldn't wanna fuck up your hair." We bicker back and forth until we arrive. "You're wrong! Jelly babies are clearly superior." I argue as we exit the car. "No you're wrong. Gummy bears are better. They're smaller so you can have more and they come in fun sized shapes." Joe retorts. "Nope. They're boring, old news and tasteless, jelly babies rain supreme. I never heard the Doctor say 'would you like a gummy bear?' Did you?" Joe narrows his eyes and pouts.

"True...fuck you. Jelly babies win." I punch the air. "Fuck yeah! Jelly babies for the win!"

"Why are you shouting?" A sandy haired man emerges from the house in front of us. "Patrick!" I run up and fling my arms around him. "Pete! It's been so long!" I hear Joe start to take our instruments out the car. "Are you ok? Did they hurt you?" Patrick whispers. Yes. I shake my head. "No." I lie. They did. They hurt me a lot. Electrotherapy they called it, everyday. It was supposed to shock the crazy out of me. I wasn't insane, I was trapped. Trapped in my mind and my memories. Memeories I could never escape. I had to tell them I was ok, that I was cured. Truth be told, they just broke me more.

"Pete!" Joe calls. I back out the hug and turn to him. "What?"

"Can you grab the guitars?" I jog down the drive and take the cases from him. We both start back towards the house, Joe now carrying amps. "Oh you don't need amps, I have loads. Andy brought some too." Patrick says from the doorway. "You're fucking kidding." Joe moans and grumbles on his way back to the car. I head towards Patrick and follow him inside. When Joe catches up, the door slams shut behind him and I wince, the bang sending shockwaves around my head.

Bangs
Screams
Cries
Blood
Death

"Pete! Pete!" My hands are empty and I'm on the ground. I'm not in control of my movements. I want to run but my body makes me stay, sticking to the cold, stone floor. Through blurry vision I see Patrick looking concerned. "What happened?" Everything sounds fuzzy and underwater; there's a loud ringing resonating through my mind. I feel hands grab at me but I'm too weak to push them away. They lift me up and carry me, setting me down on a pile of squishy cushions. No wait, it's a sofa. My eyes are shut tight and my hands are pressed over my ears. "Pete." Patrick takes my hands in his and lowers them. "Look at me."

I shake my head and bury my face in my knees. "Pete please. Let me help." Slowly I raise my head and open my eyes. In his I see his true feelings, the feelings he's always too scared to share. He's scared. "Why are you afraid?" I ask softly. He raises a perfect arched eyebrow. "Who told you I-"

"I can see it in your eyes. I've always been able to read you like a book." He sighs. "I know. I used to be able to tell how you felt from a simple twitch but now...it's like you've been wiped. Every well known movement has vanished and you're blank. Everything that made you Pete is gone." Maybe he's right. Ever since I've been locked away from the world I've changed. No emotions, only pain. I've been an empty shell for so long.  "Come on, we still have to practice. Joe and I didn't drive over here this early for nothing." I attempt to change the subject. "Pete it's 2pm." He laughs. "Like I said, we didn't drive over here this early to nothing."

He looks into my eyes, searching for something. "Stop trying, you'll never find anything." My voice comes out in a whisper. "I'll never stop trying. I'll never give up on you."

"You should."