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Patricia's POV
I crept through the dark room. There was an old couch and a ton of dusty art pieces. I looked around as I went, arms out in front of me. I couldn't even see them, but I could see a glow of light in the next room. I tip-toed to the door, and slowly turned the knob.
"I knew you'd be here." A voice said.
I turned around.
My eyelids flew open, and I looked around. I was in a fluffy bed with a red blanket thrown over me. I looked up. Piper was sitting in a chair infront of me, legs crossed and eyes looking straight at me.
"Morning," she said sweetly.
I looked around again. I definitely did not fall asleep at Piper's place the night before.
"Piper-" I started, but she cut me off.
"I was walking home from Taylor's place," she said, in her same position. "She had a lot of art and her sister Serena or Cece or Ciera or whatever wanted me to paint something for her. So I got home 3 hours after that and it was 12. My car had ran out of gas at Taylor's so I walked. A lot. And I found you, asleep on the sidewalk. And I just want to say one thing. What. The. Hell?!"
I rolled my eyes, but then got serious.
"I'm sorry?"
"You're damn right you are!" She said. She was still sitting in that same position, but her eyes looked at me like I was insane. "Do you know what could've happened to you? You're lucky I didn't call mom!"
"What would she have done?" I snapped. My mom was a string that never should be pulled. "Put me in a mental institution like Nathan? Try to hide me from the world? She did that and look where Nathan is now!"
I looked at Piper, and her eyes were filled with tears.
"Patricia-" she said, tears rolling down her face. "She tried"
"Do not defend her," I growled, getting up.
"Patricia!" She called after me.
It was too late. I was already out the door.
Eddie's POV
I was freaking out! I had been at Patricia's place for an hour and she hadn't come back. What if she had went off and done the worst? Was it my fault? Did I, the person she'd met not even a day before, hurt her that much? Was I the problem? The bad seed? The start of it all?
I couldn't have been! She kicked me out. Not the other way around. But what I couldn't figure out was why I felt so guilty.
I paced around the living room, deep in thought.
This is your fault, a voice told me.
No it's not! Another one yelled. She did this to herself! She's a psycho like her brother!
The two voices shot me encouragement to feel unguilty, and scoldings for being so cruel. But after an hour of that, it hit me.
She wasn't dead.
I knew. I just did. I didn't want to get to detective, so I just sniffed again to make sure. Yup. That was definitely perfume. It was Heat, Beyoncé's fragrance. I sniffed one more time. Yup. Perfume. She had been here either last night, or this morning.
I smiled. She was still around.
I was walking across the street, a bouquet of roses in my hands. I put my feet on the hard pavement and kept moving. I was still worried about Patricia, but I needed to take my mind off of that. She was still around, I could feel it.
I walked to the grassy floors and went to my destination. I knelt down in front of the grave stone. This was where I went when I was depressed or happy or sad or a mixture of all of them.
I swept my finger across the smooth, shiny stone, and read the words engraved into it once again.
Ariana Rosette Miller.
I sighed, removing my hand from the stone. I looked at the ground below me. A three year old skeleton was below me. A skeleton of the one I loved. I sat the roses down, and fought back the tears. I heard a quiet sniffle, and looked over. A girl with auburn hair was knelt over the gravestone across from me, obviously crying. Her back was to me, so I couldn't see her face, but her shirt was black and had 'Sick Puppies' written on the back.
At first I thought nothing of it, but then my neck shot right back over to the girl with auburn hair. I knew that auburn hair. It was her auburn hair.
"Patricia," I said quietly, looking over.
The girl stayed in her position, so I walked over to her, and gently turned her shoulder.
Her face was turned to me. Her eyes were brown, not grey. And her cheeks were pink, not rosy. It wasn't her.
"Sorry," I said. "I thought you were someone else."
She nodded, and went back to her crying.
I looked over to the stone she was kneeling over.
Martin Antonio Mercer.
He had died three years ago. I looked at the girl. She looked so sad, and she looked depressed.
"I'm so sorry," I muttered, turning around.
"Eddie?"
I turned around again.
"You!"
Cliffhanger! BOOM!
So, there was a Mercer at the cemetary. Not Joy, but her cousin. That signals that Joy will make an appearance soon! I hope you look forward to the next chapter, and are relieved because you know where Patricia is. Bye for now!