---Patrick---

Nothing. I had nothing. The memories, the love, the friendship. It was all coming to an end. Only a few simple words were left and I knew even those won't last long.

"I guess this is it." She whispers with a shaky voice and wet eyes; her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun and Kellin's light gray sweater draping over her shoulders. I guess she has her own family now, too.

"Y-yeah..." I reply, my own voice just about as shaky as hers. It really is the end, the last time we'll see each other. Through it all: the pain, the healing, the bills, the moving. Through this mess of everything, everything we've survived together. Ten years happy, three years terrified, and one week numb, the hardest part of this is leaving her. Leaving the people, I love Gerard, Megan, Pete, Joe, Brendon, Ryan, and Frank. I'll never see any of them again.

Megan runs forward and hugs me tight, soft sobs leaving her throat and tears streaming down her cheeks, "I don't want to leave, please, I want to stay with you..."

I feel my own tears leaving my eyes as we rock back and forth just outside the hospital. Megan's sobs become louder, and I know she's given up on being strong. She's given up on toughing it out, and she never gives up. It breaks my already shattered heart because she's finally broken. Finally, as empty as I. Nobody deserves to be this empty. To feel this depressed.

"It's going to be alright... Shh..." I whisper as I rest my chin on her head and stroke her back, "He'll take good care of you. You'll have a better life now. Dad's gone and-and Kevin won't bother us again. You've got Kellin now. He's going to be a great dad, you understand?"

I pulled away slightly and leaned down slightly to wipe her tears, "Do you understand? Y-you gotta be strong for me."

She nodded slightly, lowering her eyes, and taking a deep breath.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you, too..." She replies. I press my lips to her forehead before pulling away and looking into her newly risen eyes, "Goodbye, Megan..."

"Bye, Patrick... m-maybe we'll see each other again..."

"Someday..."

Another week gone. That's two weeks without Gerard, six hours without Megan. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes. Four-hundred three thousand two-hundred seconds.

Six days I spent in a dreamless state of unconsciousness. The last eight days I've spent healing in the hospital on a bed with nothing to do but cry about Friday the Seventh of October.

What happened? He loves me. He has to love me. He can't just say, "I don't know," and leave. I hate it. But mostly I hate myself for thinking he ever loved me. I was so stupid. Nobody loves me. Nobody has ever loved me, nobody ever will love me. How could they? He was using me, and as soon as I'd called him, he realized just what he was getting into. I don't understand why he was even using me in the first place. I'm ugly. Why didn't he try something with Frank or Joe or Pete?

I still have his phone number, but I've been too hesitant to text him. I'm scared of what he'd say. I'm afraid of what would happen. What if he only starts insulting me? What if he doesn't reply and I just make a fool of myself?

I don't know. I don't know what to do. All I know is that I'm scared, I'm nervous, I'm anxious, I'm hungry, I'm exhausted, and I need to heal because that's what's important, isn't it? Therapy and drugs. I have to get better now. I have to start healing. I have to stop being so reliant on Gerard and actually do something about... this...

So here I am, sitting in the waiting room. My new parents beside me...

I just met them today. They're decent so far... kind of strict but they don't mind what I do for the most part.

My new, "Mom's," name is Allie. I'm not gonna call her Mom. How could I? She's not my mom. Mom's under the fucking dirt right now, a tray of ashes. Allie could never replace her. Nobody could. Anyways, Mom had beautiful blonde hair that sparkled in the sunlight and glowed in the moonlight. It would flow in the soft breezes that passed through during summer nights. Her green eyes were always bright and filled with joy as she looked upon Megan, Kevin, and I. When she was young, did she dream about her life? Did she dream of having a caring family? Three kids, two boys, one girl, and a husband? Did she know how much it would hurt when she left us? Did she know it would tear apart our family?

Never mind.

Allie is nothing like Mom. She will never replace her. She has light brown hair and dark brown eyes, her eyebrows always calm. Neutral, really. Her eyes aren't filled with joy like Mom's were. She has calm, neutral eyes. Emotionless and bland. She's nothing like Mom, she'll never replace Mom no matter how hard she'll try.

Then there's Mark, my new dad. Thankfully, he told me to just call him Mark. Nobody could ever replace Dad either. Sure, he went wrong, but before that, he was an amazing person.

He was happy and bright-hearted. He smiled genuine smiles, and he always had a brightness in his eyes. Just like Mom did. They were hopelessly in love. They were inseparable. They were the adorable couple with the three kids who would walk through the park on a Saturday afternoon. The kind of couple that people would, "Aww," at. The kind of couple with the relationship that others strived to have. They were happy. We were all happy, and now we're all broken.

I hug my knees tighter to my chest, imagining Gerard here. He would hug me close and whisper in my ear, telling me it's going to be okay and it'll be over soon. He'd be there for me, he'd hold my hand and run his fingers across my palm to soothe me.

If he loved me.

My hands are beginning to shake, softly and a tear leaves my eye.

"You okay there?" Mark asks, concerned.

Is that a joke?

"I'll be okay," I lie.

I'm not okay... I promise.

How strong are your promises?

I have yet to break one.

Lies. He promised to keep me safe. He promised he loved me, he promised me so much and then broke it all along with my heart.

Shattered promises and torn hearts.

I hate him. I hate him so very much. How could he say that? How could he just say that he doesn't know if he loves me after he saved my life? He told me to stop cutting, he kissed my scars, he held me under the moonlight beside the mausoleum, he was the one who accepted my kiss, he was the one who invited me to Homecoming, and somehow in just one week, it all broke down.

It doesn't make sense...

"Patrick?" A woman calls softly from her office. I blush slightly, taking one last glance at Mark and Allie, who nod me off, Allie shining me a fake smile, before going into the counselor's office.

"Go ahead and shut the door, Patrick." The counselor says, her hands filled with papers. My heart is racing but at the same time, it's like an injured horse on the racetrack, it doesn't beat right, still limping from Gerard's words.

I hesitantly take a seat on a tan couch opposite her desk, after shutting the door, of course, sinking into the cushions tensely and knotting my fingers together nervously. I look around the room while she files through her papers, taking in the place where I'll basically be interrogated for a long while. Talking about my problems until they go away.

It's so fucking funny I forgot to laugh.

Her desk is a light brown with papers scattered everywhere. Documents, information, notes, folders, everything she needs to know about her victims. Including me. She probably already knows about me. Every little thing I've done to myself and other people. The way I killed my mom.

Hanging on the walls are pictures, mostly paintings and I wonder who painted them and where she got them... I don't know... it doesn't matter.

"How are you doing today?" She asks abruptly, I think her name is Dr. Strauss but I don't know...

"I... uh... I'm good..." I lie. Can I die? Nobody could stop me.

"Are you?"

I look up at her, she has these sharp green eyes, all her attention focused on me as she leans over her clipboard, leaning forward in her chair like I'm a new sort of species. An alien to her.

"N-no..." I reply, avoiding her gaze.

"Talk to me, what happened?" She asks, and I can see her legs cross out of the corner of my eye.

"Where do you want me to start? The part where my life was okay? Or the moment I stepped into hell?" I ask flatly.

"Well, first of all, you don't have to act that way-" she starts, but I cut her off.

"I have every right to be like this!" I exclaim, glaring right into her eyes, "My mom is dead, my dad is in prison, my brother is in prison, my sister is in a foster home, and the boy who saved my life doesn't even know if he ever loved me! I'm sick of this. I'm tired of my life, and I wish it would just end! I'm sick of everything going bad. I've had enough of everything!"

She purses her lips, hums slightly, her eyes slide down to her clipboard and begin writing something. I take a deep breath realizing what just happened and cover my mouth, "I'm so sorry,"

She smiles sadly, looking back up at me. She bites her lip, hesitating on what to say next but finally asks, "Tell me about Gerard."

My breath hitches at the mention of his name, my gaze settling back down on my lap. It's only been five minutes, and I've already broken down, I can't believe I'm letting my emotions get the best of me.

I bite my lip, whispering out, "What about him...?"

"What was he like? His personality? What did you two do?" She asks, leaning back in her chair.

And I tell her.

I tell her everything despite my instincts that scream at me to stop and realize it's pointless. I tell her. And it's pathetic. I'm pathetic. I can't believe I'm telling her everything. There's only one detail I leave out...

Kevin and what he did to me.

Nobody knows that's the only secret Gerard kept. I don't talk about it despite the fact that it bothers me and I probably should but it makes me feel filthy, I can't tell her.

"So Pete, Ryan, Frank, Brendon, and Joe were all your friends?" She asks.

I nod softly, "I mean... I'll probably never see them again but... yeah..."

She purses her lips, looking to her desk, "I'll look into medication for you soon, and we can see what we do from there. In the meantime, get some sleep and try not to worry too much."

Pfft.

"Next week same time work for you?" She asks.

"Yeah, that's fine." I reply, "See you in a while."

"You, too, Patrick,"

I shut the door behind myself as I meet Allie and Mark outside, both of which are talking quietly to each other. As soon as they see me, though, they stop and smile. I want to punch one of them really hard in the face.

"Ready to go?" Allie asks, her long, brown hair swaying slightly in the draft coming through the door.

"Yeah."

Mark pats me on the back as we leave through the front door, his feet crunching the dried leaves scattered across the ground. I flinch at the touch. I don't like being touched. I don't like people feeling pity for me. It's stupid.

"How was the appointment?" Allie asks.

I shrug. I don't feel like talking. I want to die.

I get in the back of the car, buckling my seatbelt and sitting in silence. After a while, though, once Allie and Mark start up the car, and we're driving back to their house, I take out my phone and start reading through Gerard, and I's past messages. It makes me happy and sad at the same time. I love reading through them, remembering what he said to me but at the same time I want to text him again, and I'm scared.

Friday, September 2nd, 10:26 PM

Patrick: Hello? It's Patrick you gave me your number on the bus.

I smile slightly... That's when I first learned about Mikey...

Gerard: hi :)

Gerard: I just want to apologize really quickly. I shouldn't have tried to get into your business, and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to...

Patrick: No it's fine. You didn't really make me uncomfortable. I don't mind talking about it

Gerard: Alright... So what are you doing right now?

My eyes continue to scan through the messages as I remember exactly what I was doing when we texted...

And then I come across:

Gerard: Tell me about yourself. Just random facts, I don't care what. I barely know you except for the fact that you have anxiety.

Patrick: I don't thiink there's anything to really say

Gerard: Yes there is. You're awesome, and I'd love to hear about you. You can tell me anything. I won't judge you, I promise.

Patrick: How strong are your promises?

Gerard: I have yet to break one.

The first time we made that... I continue through the messages. Finding small pieces of chit chat, nothing special.

Thursday, September 8, 9:25 PM

Gerard: do you like sushi?

Patrick: What the hell haha. Idk I've never tried it.

Gerard: I'm taking you to a sushi restaurant soon because you are missing out on so much

My knees pull up to my chest as the car continues to drive down the street. Signs and buildings passing by in colorless blurs while people with their own tragedies cross streets and drink at cafés. I'm left in a car with two people I hate and a phone that reminds me of just how miserable my life is but this is nothing compared to others. They've been through much worse than me. I know it. I'm really not that special.

Monday, September 6th, 8:25 PM

Gerard: I need to talk to you when you get a chance... About... Um... A few different things... Anyways, text me. Love you.

I didn't reply to that message until the next Wednesday...

Wednesday, September 28th, 7:36 PM

Patrick: Hey sorry I didn't reply earlier. What did you want to talk about?

Gerard: nevermind, it can wait

Patrick: You sure?

Gerard: Yeah :) I love you, Sugar I have to go but I'll ttyl

Patrick: okay

I still don't know what he was talking about... it doesn't matter, does it? It's over. He's over me. He doesn't love me. He never did love me. I don't deserve his love. I don't deserve anyone's love.

I leave my messages with Gerard, instead going to my messages with Pete to find a new text.

Pete: I need to talk to you

Patrick: What

I feel the car slowing to a stop, my eyes dart up to see our house, a big place with lots of wilting flowers and orange trees in the front yard.

I follow Mark and Allie, leaving the car and I'm the first inside, going upstairs to lock myself in my room.

"Patrick, do you want to come downstairs for a bit? We have board games..." Allie calls. Board games? Does she think I'm some kind of toddler?

"No," I call back, then bite my lip guiltily adding, "Maybe later."

I hear a long sigh, "Okay, Sweetie."

My door shuts behind myself, and I look around my room. It's not my room. This is a prison cell. There's no escape without facing the law, and I'm left alone with my thoughts. I already know I need to block them out with music. Any kind of music I just need an escape.

I shove my earbuds in my ears, start my music (which just happens to be Basket Case), and turn up the volume as far up as I can.

"Do you have the time
To listen to me whine?
About nothing and everything all at once,"

I shut my eyes, leaning my head back against the mattress of my bed and let his voice take me to heaven.

Bzzt

Pete: It's about Gerard...

I bite my lip. Does he love me? Did he change his mind? Maybe he wants to get back together, and he's sorry... maybe this really could work out.

No. He doesn't love you. Nobody loves you. Nobody will ever love a pathetic, fat, damaged, broken, worthless, lost pig like you. You're unlovable. Gerard never loved you. Ashley never loved you. You're so fucked up inside. It's disgusting. Mom was just there because she was responsible for you. You should have been the one to die in The Incident, not her.

And just like that, the past flashes past my eyes. My mother's name echoing through my mind and I go blind as the sight of a church clouds my vision, just next to the mausoleum, a couple blocks away from the café. A 13-year-old boy who's losing hope.

"Good evening, everybody." Pause, "We gather today to mourn the loss of our dearly loved Patricia Stumph." The pastor calls through the room. The rain outside has died to a small sprinkle, but my tears are still falling from my eyes as I grip the edge of my chair. My cap has dropped to the floor, but I haven't bothered to pick it up. I can't no matter how much I want to, "she passed on the Nineteenth of July, one month ago, much to our disappointment...

"She was a good wife and an even greater mother. She will be missed." He says, "Before we continue, is there anybody willing to speak in Patricia's memory?"

Already?

Dad stands from his seat, his head low and his hands folded behind his back. His posture is stiff but weakened by his sadness for Mom's passing. She didn't deserve to die, it's my fault. He places one foot in front of the other, slowly. It seems too delayed like time is running in slow motion. I wish it wouldn't because I just want this day to end so I can go home and cry to myself in peace. Honestly, it's taking all my will not to just break down right here and now. To let all my emotions flow through my eyes. To break open and reveal to the world just how devastated I am.

He continues up to the podium, looks down at the papers in his hand, and clears his throat. His voice is little and shaky as he tries to keep control, but in the end, he fails. We all fail. In the end of all things, we'll always break down into a mess of grief.

"Patricia was... my true love. If such a thing really does exist, then this is the best example I can find. I loved her with all my heart. If I could, I would die to have her back. I remember when I first met her, she was just a waitress working at an old restaurant with barely any money. She always had these bright green eyes, the color of grass on a rainy day. I remember the way she smiled with her sweet, raspberry lips. I loved her with all my heart, and I'll never forget the day we first kissed, under the cork tree at the park near our houses at the time when we lived in Chicago.

"This was a truly tragic incident, and I hope we all remember her for who she was: beautiful, caring, sweet woman with high hopes and a free spirit." He takes a deep breath.

"You will be missed."

He looks up, into the crowd of relatives, friends, family, everyone who came. The eyes of the broken. He looks like a boy, lost and scared. A complete mess. It makes me realize just how human we all are. A single death can screw up someone's life so much it's actually disturbing. I'd never seen Dad cry before today I used to think he would always be happy, that he couldn't be sad, but today I'm proven wrong. He looks so... gone... A different man.

He turns, bowing his head, and leaves the stage, his feet echoing through the silence of the large room and the tension in the air is only making me more uncomfortable than I already am. Megan squeezes my hand, reminding me that it'll be okay. It'll be okay. I just have to keep lying to myself. He had beaten me the night before but... that was just a one-time thing, right? It won't happen again? I don't know. It'll be okay.

Kevin is the next one up. His black suit is prim and tidy, but underneath, he's a mess. He looks like he's about to cry and his hands are shaking as he walks to the stage. My eyes stay low, I'm up next, and I'm honestly terrified. What if I screw up? What if I say something disrespectful? I've been having these thoughts lately. I'm always nervous and hyperactive.

"She was an amazing person..." Kevin starts, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. I watch his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and stop shaking just like Dad had before him, "I don't think I could have asked for a better Mom. She was one of the sweetest people I've ever known.

"I... I don't have much to say except... I'm gonna miss you..."

He leaves the stage without hesitation before he can burst out into tears, his hands in his pockets and his head still low as he quickly walks back to his seat.

"Patrick, would you like to say a few words?" The pastor asks.

I look up, swallowing my sadness, and stand. My knees are weak, and I feel like I'm about to collapse. My turn. Already. But it can't be that hard, right?

My lip becomes trapped between my teeth as I make my way to the podium. Each step sounds like a sonic boom and the drumming of my heart in my ears is only making me lose more confidence in myself. I swallow, but my mouth is already dry enough as it is.

I find myself at the podium, my hands resting on the cold, wood platform. How did I get here so fast?

My eyes slide down to the paper on the small table, my writing clear on the lines sheet.

"I'll never forget you." I start, "Through thick and thin, you helped me through so much. I couldn't thank you enough for being my mom and I..." I blush slightly, "I'm so sorry that I c-couldn't save you..."

My head lowers in shame. It was my fault. It was all my fault. I couldn't save her. I didn't try hard enough, and now she's dead because of me. If only I'd tried harder, used all my strength and then some she could have survived. She would have survived if it wasn't for me. I could have saved her.

"I love you so much, Mom. S-so long and goodnight..."

My fingers are shaking. My breathing is ragged like the torn black banners in The Black Parade. My earbuds are still playing music, but I can't listen to them. I can only hear the words, "So long and goodnight," ringing in my ears.

"Patrick, sweetie, are you alright?" Allie calls from downstairs.

I bite my lip, the tears slipping from my eyes silently.

"Y-yeah," I call, "I'm all right."

"Okay," She says back, "If you need anything, just ask. Your dad and I are going out shopping. I love you, and we'll be back soon,"

"Bye,"

The door shuts. I immediately drag myself onto my bed, curl up in a ball, and start sobbing, crying myself to sleep. Too scared and tired to do anything else. Too miserable to try to take care of myself.