Thanks to those who continue to follow WWW! I appreciate it more than you know and hit 1,000 views today! So, thank you so SO much for those who are still reading and a special thanks to those who continue to review and give their feedback. You are appreciate more than you know. :) This chapter has a bit of George in it, so for those who were wondering, here! Enjoy!
Black.
Black sky, black bed frame, black ink.
Black mindset revealed to a slight brightness.
Silence lingered between Patrick and Sophie. All that could be heard were Patrick's uncertain heavy breaths.
"What?" was all the shocked woman could muster up to say.
All this time she had been struggling, fighting, hoping, praying for the right words to say that would trigger something, anything, inside this man and finally she had found it. She didn't really think about what she would say or do when this moment came, though.
"I said," Patrick repeated, "You're right." He stared genuinely into her eyes, seeing the slight glimpse of hope shimmer in them.
"Well, shall we start tonight or tomorrow?" She asked breathlessly. She was still spending time wrapping her mind around the fact she had gotten through to him.
"Tomorrow. If, ah, if that's alright."
"Uhm...Yeah. Yes. Yes, tomorrow is perfect. Tomorrow morning." Sophie found herself more flustered than anything, but reminded herself that she was ready for the challenge.
Patrick nodded and sat back down on his bed.
"Talk to you tomorrow then, Patrick."
"Tomorrow," the curly-haired blonde stated.
Sophie nodded back at Patrick before exiting the room. She closed the door, leaned up against it, and let out the most relieving sigh.
Finally.
She was finally getting through to him.
Patrick sat on his bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped by his mouth. He had made this choice and he was going to have to stick to it. He retrieved the journal beside his bed as well as a pen that laid nearby.
My dearest Angela,
I'd like to think wherever you are now, you're proud of me. I promise I am going to get better. I will get better for you.
I promise.
Love,
Patrick
He stared at the writing for a few moments when a small creek came from the door. A round head with the familiar loose, curly, dark hair peeked in. Peter crept comically inside the door and closed it softly behind him, a wide-eyed and shocked expression plastered on his face.
"Whoa. Man. You're, like...not laying down...anymore..."
Patrick nodded, eyes locked on the journal as he closed it and tossed it on the nearby night stand. Peter performed his nightly ritual that Patrick had easily observed and memorized. Pull the trunk out from under the bed, pull out three comic books and a Twinkie, push it back underneath, waddle onto the bed, glimpse at one of the comic books, consume the entire Twinkie, then fall on his right side and fall asleep.
Lest Patrick forget, however, the awkward and paranoid glimpses he took mid-read to make sure Patrick wasn't going to leap on him or something.
"Peter," Patrick began.
An obnoxious gasp came from the childish being across the room. "You CAN talk! I KNEW IT! I knew it this WHOLE TIME. You see, I made this bet with David because he said you couldn't talk at all but I told him! I said, 'No way! He can TOO talk! I just know it!' and whaddaya know?! I was right! He owes me his fruit snacks tomorrow at lunch now! But can you, like, talk in front of him so he believes me and doesn't think I'm just making it up to get the fruit snacks?"
Patrick shrugged and nodded. "Sure, I...I guess. Why not-"
"AAWWESSSOMMMEE!" Peter exclaimed in an unusually higher pitched voice. "And hey I'll even share the fruit snacks with you if you want. I don't really like the yellow ones so you can have those, okay?"
The curly-haired blonde nodded once more. "Okay, that...ah...that sounds good."
Silence fell between the two once more, minus Peters subtle whispers. Patrick attempted his speech of amends once more.
"Peter, I'm sorry for the outrageous outburst when we first met," he explained. "I'm...ah...well, to tell you the truth, I'm not normally like that."
Patrick brought a hand to his mouth replaying the memory in his head.
"Man, it's totally fine. I shouldn't have tried out that sort of joke on you without knowing you first. Like Marvin hates all of my jokes so I know not to pull stuff like that around him anymore, ya know? So now I know when you're around it's 'Hold the phone! No joke zone! Play it cool, Peter. Play. It. Cool.' I just kinda wished I didn't have tah, ya know, almost die to, uh, realize that so...yeah it's totally fine." Peter proceeded to look through his comic book further.
Jane nodded and kept his eyes on the floor. He knew he owed Peter more of an explanation than that.
"My daughter was murdered about a month ago. She was six years old."
Peter's eyes went wide as he looked up at Patrick whose eyes were still focused on the white tile.
"So that's..." Patrick shrugged, unsure of what to say next. He met eyes with the chubby roommate. "I know that excuse doesn't justify my actions, but I wanted to tell you how truly sorry I am. I hope that the first interaction doesn't hinder our potential friendship as roommates."
"N-No. No, it doesn't." Peter finally stated.
"Okay. Good." Patrick practically whispered. He proceeded to lay on his back in his bed, letting the white ceiling consume his path of sight.
Peter tore his Twinkie in half, extending it out to Patrick. "Want half?"
Patrick looked at the offering and nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that." He reached out, taking the half pastry from Peter. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it." Peter proceeded to take his half and consume it in one consecutive bite. Patrick took a soft bite from one end, savoring the sweet taste it provided.
"D'you wanna know the real reason? Y'know, like, why I'm in here?" Peter asked softly.
"If you want to tell me, sure."
"Well, I didn't kill anyone. I don't think I would ever do that because that's messed up, y'know? But, uh, yeah. I uhm...I hear voices."
Patrick reacted as if he didn't have any knowledge of this before hand. "You hear voices?"
"Yeah," Peter continued. "Like, uh, just like voices. Some of them are my friends, y'know. And I've kinda started being able to tell between real and not real and like the good ones and the bad ones and they're real good here and they're fixing me up real nice but that's why. Swear ta god I didn't kill anyone."
"I believe you," Patrick replied. "No, I believe you."
The ever familiar silence sat between the two.
"So, uh...why are you here? I mean you don't have to tell me or anything, you know. I just figured, you know, since I told you about me that you could tell me about you so it's fair...you know?"
"Yeah, yeah. I know." Patrick began. He had failed to tell anyone as to why he was in here. Sophie had found out because it was in his file, George had discovered most of it as a result of his clumsiness and curiosity, and to everyone else Patrick remained a mystery. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.
"I pissed off a serial killer and then he killed my wife and my daughter. I fell really deep into a slump I'm still trying to get out of."
"Is that why you tried the big 's' then?"
"Yeah, that's why. I mean, that's part of the reason."
"I would never ever ever in my whole life go and try the big 's'. Ever. I know things suck a lot of the time but I'd never imagine being, y'know, that sad." Peter admitted.
"If you would have asked me if I'd ever do it about a month ago I would have said the same thing, Peter. But sometimes it feels like there's nothing left to live for. So you ask yourself, why should I keep going if this is all I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?"
Peter nodded in agreement. Patrick knew it was him attempting to understand where he was coming from, but he knew someone like Peter would have a hard time wrapping their mind around the concept of suicide. So, Patrick left the conversation where it was. Soon enough, Peter had fallen to his right and assumed his position for sleeping for that night. George came in to check on them for lights out, locked their door, shut off the light, and soon Patrick was friend again with the darkness.