The week flew by quickly, hardly anything I could say went wrong. It was a healing process, naturally it would feel slow, but the days rushed past.

There were a few tests, a well check, and a lot of sleep involved in the whole of seven days. Sleep was my major anti-venom. The doctors had stressed that factor in my schedule and I obeyed it happily.

We even had time to fit an interview in for the fans, being sure to share it on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, and all of the other social media apps for our Youngblood to see.

It wasn't anything super serious yet. We answered typical questions and still found a way to make them funny and entertaining. There was the obvious factor that I looked different, specifically my weight and burns. Our makeup artist made a good attempt covering them, though.

"I've covered cuts, slits, bumps, bruises, any swollen skin showing for countless people," she said as she painted over a spot on my cheek. I was overwhelmed with the trustworthiness I felt from her. She could do the job right.

I wish I could look like that all of the time.

After the interview, Pete and I drove home. I took a Coke bottle from the fridge and threw myself on the couch. Someone had been watching the news and the story had caught my attention.

There were reports of small crimes taking place in our area. Items were stolen from a nearby store; items like navigators, a GPS, etc.

"That's terrible," I shook my head, "Who'd even want those things anyways?"

Pete didn't answer me and I turned to him. I expected him to give me a snarky comment or return anything sarcastically, but nothing. He noticed my confusion and turned the tv off.

From there, he left the room. I followed him inside. Pete reached under his bed and pulled out a box. He sat it on the bed and opened the lid...

The stolen items...

"Pete? Why did you-?" I started. Pete's not a stealer. He has money, buying these things wouldn't be a problem. The thing is, he doesn't even need them, so why does he have them?

If he doesn't need them and he has the money to buy them, then it wasn't him. Yet, they're still sitting right next to us on the bed.

It couldn't have been Meagan, Pete shares money with her. Blaming this on the boys would be laughable. That left one person.

Me.

I stole these...

I subconsciously brought my hand over my mouth and looked down at them. I don't remember stealing these. I don't remember needing these. Why? How?

"I'm taking them back tomorrow," Pete closes the box and hides it away, "They won't make a big deal if they know it's me and I'm returning it."

That doesn't matter... I think. He's Pete Wentz. He has a reputation to keep. Money can't pay you a reputation. He can't be blamed for my mess.

Tears welded up in my eyes, "Why would I-?"

Pete pulled me close and squeezed me tightly. His voice shook when he talked, "I've talked to you in these states... You want to leave. You want to... to find someone."

"Allie..." I whisper.

He sighed and questioned, "Patrick, if you didn't want to be here, why didn't you just tell me?"

"I don't want to leave you," I said honestly, "I'm grateful that you're keeping me here. I don't even remember saying or taking these things."

"I can see that..." he replies and lets me go. Pete let his hands carry the weight of his head and he rubbed it with his thumbs, "Remember your character in the Youngblood Chronicles? That's what you're like. It's not often, but it's scary when it does happen. You won't take no for an answer, so I helplessly let you do things."

"Like the drinking episode?" I asked, my eyes still making tears despite my blinking them away.

He shrugged, "A little. It was different then. You remember it and you were making your own decisions."

"I'm not going to let you leave on your own, but if you don't like it here, I'll send you to Joe's or Brendon's. Just... tell me when you're upset," Pete said sincerely.

Allie was tearing me apart. At first it was just a need to thank her for saving my life. It was a polite oath I made to her. Now, it's an unhealthy obsession. I'm doing things I don't even remember doing. Look at me, I'm stealing and drinking and scaring Pete because of her.

"I'm sorry," I tell Pete, "I just want to see her again."

He looked away too suddenly, like I hit a soft spot.

"Allie..." I mentioned, just in case he was thinking about someone else. It hit him the same way. He tried to hide it and maybe play it off, but he's not a very good actor.

Then, I got suspicious, "Hang on a second, you said you saw her when she pulled me out. You saw her."

He stayed in silence, looking at he ground as if I hadn't said a word.

"You promised me! It was her!" my voice rose the more I got upset.

"Patrick..."

"Don't you "Patrick" me," I shouted angrily, "I need a full explanation here. Don't sugarcoat it."

By this point, Pete was upset too, but did his best not to show it. He was keeping sanity for me. I'm the insane little guy who can't have eyes taken off of him. He needs to act like he's okay for my sake.

"Patrick, something happened to your head in the fire, something the doctors couldn't explain. You saw things - hallucinations - that no one else saw. They said..." he choked, "...they said that they thought Allie was someone you met in a hallucination."

I slowly took it in, the information seeping into my skin. I nodded and answered calmly to him, "So, you lied?"

"Patrick, I-"

"You lied!" I slammed the dresser counter, "You made up some heroic story just to keep me happy! Pete, do I look happy?!"

"Would you rather me tell you the truth?" he turned over his shoulder and asked.

I stopped and thought of what the truth might be. It didn't take me long. My tensed muscles released as I felt my shoulders fall along with everything else, "Allie's not real..."

When I turned to Pete, he was shaking his head, "No. She's not. She's someone you made up. I hate telling you this, they told me not to, but it's getting out of hand and I can't watch you do this anymore."

I let the tears fall this time. My breathing hiked and I felt like an angry cartoon character with steam coming from it's ears.

"No," I started slow and gradually increased speed and intensity, "No. You weren't there. I was in that fire. I was in that building. I remember now. She saved me. I saved her. We saved each other. I distinctly remember her black hair. She's not a hallucination. She's real. If you won't believe me or help me, I'll find someone else who will."

There was nowhere else to go, so I stormed out of the room. Pete called my name, following me to the front door, but I closed it before he could get in.

This must be what I look like to him...

I didn't know what I planned on doing after I got outside. Leaving? To where?

Wherever I was going, I didn't make it past the porch. I felt dizzy and grabbed the brick wall, falling against it. My back pressed to it and I slid down to the concrete.

Allie's not real... Pete's voice echoed through my head.

But she is... she has to be real.

I didn't quite pass out or fall asleep. It was more like a blackout. When I look back up, Pete has his arms around me and his cheek pressed to the top of my head. He's crying and so am I. I've broken down crying, past the point of sobbing. I'm hopelessly hopeful, hanging onto my Allie.

"She's real..." I whisper between rounds of tears and catch my breath again, "she's real..."

A/N:
Hey, sorry for the drama chapter but it was coming either way. I'm just letting you know - even though I've had a number of excuses to be - I'll be a little slower on Wattpad.

Logan's been sick for a while, which most of you probably know. It was nothing big, just a bug, but it wasn't getting better. He was staying up all night, being sick and failing attempts to fall asleep.

Yesterday, I came over. I was past the point of caring if I got sick. I wanted to see him. We hung out for a while and I realized how bad he really was. It wasn't as bad as his salmonella back last summer, but it was a close second.

He fell asleep while we were watching the Avengers on Netflix. Since he's had trouble sleeping, I left him alone. Then, I went to say goodbye and I couldn't wake him up. He was breathing funny, wheezy even.

We took him to the hospital and, of course, only family is allowed to see him. So, I'm home, not tired at all. I don't know much details yet, but I'll let you know as soon as I can.

~ Becca