Light My Way Back Home •Patrick Stump+Fall Out Boy•

Chapter Twenty One: This Is An Emergency, So Are You Listening?

||Cole Wentz|| First Person||

The first thing I take note of is the sound of gravel crunching underneath something at a fast speed, and then the startling sound of someone honking a horn, shocking my eyes open. I can't see for a moment, my eyes taking what feels like forever to eventually adjust to the darkness that surrounds me. The sound of the radio makes me turn my head to the side, my heart catching in my throat when I hear Patrick's voice.

"Some legends are told; some turn to dust or to gold; but you will remember me, remember me for centuries." Patrick is singing through the tinny speakers at the back of what I'm guessing to be is a van. My breathing picks up a beat as my brother's band sounds throughout the vehicle, the sound of whoever is driving the car drums their fingers to Andy's work. I lift my woozy head up and tilt it to the sides, waiting for my eyes to adjust correctly to my surroundings. It's a pitch black mini van, the ones in the movies that the criminals use. The seats are leather and groan the slightest bit when I move, my jacket swishing against the material. I freeze and I close my eyes again, curl ifarther into the seat I'm lying in, holding my breath as the song Centuries continues to play. I hold back a sob.

"I'm the opposite of amnesia," Derek sings mockingly, hopefully unaware that I'm awake, and I bite my tongue, willing myself to not cry. What would you do in this sort of situation- finding yourself in an unfamiliar vehicle you never willingly stepped into and not being able to do anything about it? I slowly turn my head to the side, peeking at the mirror hanging from the top of the roof. Derek glances up, his eyes averting to the half of my form that he can see, before smiling softly. I clench my fists and focus on not reeling forward to strangle him. Not that I could, because my wrists are bound together by this really rough and scratchy rope. "I can hear you moving," he says in a bored tone.

"Isn't that a shame?" I say, my voice low but shaky. Derek lets out a laugh.

"You can stop now, you know? Because you're not getting away again." He sighs tiredly, like he's bored of the conversation we're having. "Not unless you're in a body bag,"

"That sounds pleasant," I say, trying to push myself up into a seated position. I try to look through the windows, but it gives this kind of dark hue to everything.

"Oh, yeah, tinted windows. Darkest I could get 'em." Derek says. "Just in case you try to, I don't know, get help."

"You really thought this out, didn't you?" I roll my eyes.

"Had a whole three years, thanks to you." Derek replies easily.

"Want to clue me in as to where we're going?" I try my luck.

"Somewhere I can hide your body." He says. "It'll be like one of those cold cases where they never find the killer or the victim until like thirty years later when a hiker discovers a human skull." Derek laughs lightly, and I have to gulp back the urge to paint the floor with my guts and all the contents in my stomach.

"People are going to find you," I say. "You aren't going to be a cold case killer."

"What makes you say that?" He asks.

"Well, for one, you have to be smart, Mr. Barely Passed High School." I tell him. "And two, you chose me as your victim. You should know by now that I don't go down without a fight."

"I'm really regretting not taping your mouth shut, Miss Human Rights Activist." He sighs tiredly, flicking on his indicator. Through the windshield, I can see the first few cracks of light as dawn begins to approach. Everyone should be looking for me at this point.

"It wouldn't make a difference," I say quietly.

"The original deal still stands- you behave, and I don't kill Hayley, your silly fiancé, and your daughter."