I know this chapter is short, but I wanted to give you guys something after waiting so long... sorry about that... and I wanted to thank Ruthdancegirl for giving me the new reviews recently that influenced me to keep working on it... Thank you! And I can't forget all those other 41 reviews that ive gotten from awesome fans of my story! I LOVE YOU GUYS! :)))

Patricia's POV

My speed walk became a sprint, frantically looking for somewhere I could be alone before I broke down. I settled for a secluded area of woods outside the hospital just in time as hot, angry tears spilled over the edge. I'd told myself I would give in to any more moments like this, but I couldn't help it. It was Joy. Betrayal seared through my veins, like she'd burned me. It felt like one of those burns that make it seem like your whole body was on fire, burning alive. Like the ones that only blister with time. She was ashamed of me; embarrassed at my weakness. I dug my black-painted fingernails into the dirt desperately, willing my anger away. It was destructive, especially to me. I knew what I was capable of, along with anyone else who knew about me. I felt something prick at my finger, and I pulled my hand back in surprise. I clawed at the soil, digging it out, and found it was an old pocket knife. Instinctively, I threw it as far away from me as I could, not wanting the temptation. But I could still see the glint of the blade, and even though I was done with that, I felt the effect it had on me. I watched the small, scarlet drop of blood where the knife had pricked my finger and found it had a strangely calming effect. I thought about how easy it would be to stab it into my chest. To end it all now. To try the suicide escape... again. Because there is no "quick and easy" recovery from an attempt, like in the movies. All of the rehab shit will never help someone in pain. Talking about it makes it all real again; it won't fix it. It has to be a decision you make yourself, which precisely my reason for throwing the knife instead of using it. Suicide is the easy way out. The weak way. I wasn't going to be weak anymore, because if there was one word that doesn't belong with the name Patricia Williamson, it would be weak. I believe there was a reason that I survived; a reason for a second chance, with or without Joy.

Eddie's POV

I knew I'd messed up with Patricia, being the ass that I am, and I also knew that I had to apologize. I was pretty sure she'd forgive me, but I'm so afraid that one day she won't have any patience left to forgive me again. She was never the first to apologize after a fight, it was always me. She is so stubborn, which is why I was so surprised when she walked up to me with a sincere apology written all over her face. She didn't have to say anything, I knew. I just knew.