#5- H u r t

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Patrick's POV

After we exchanged phone numbers, Pete took his coat and said: "I have to go; Patrick, it was nice to talk to you, I hope to have the chance to see you again soon."

"We'll meet again for sure, it was a pleasure."

And he left me alone with Brendon.

"So... first impression of Pete?", my friend asked raising an eyebrow.

"I can't tell yet... we haven't talked that much. But he seems a pretty cool guy."

"He is. Sometimes he acts very weird, though... and he gets mad at people for silly reasons... but that's part of his personality, I guess."

"Yeah...", I muttered "It's better if I go now."

"Okay. Stay safe, Pat."

"Thanks, you too", I replied rolling my eyes: I hated being called Pat, but I didn't want to tell people. As soon as I got out of Brendon's house, I pulled up the sleeves of my sweatshirt to look at my wrists: some cuts were still bleeding and burning. After being three days clean, at Starbucks I felt the urgency to ignore my good intentions. While I was in the kitchen, I had seen a sharp knife and I couldn't resist. I had managed to use it before Pete arrived.

I covered my arms again and started walking along the left side of the road. The cold wind was blowing violently through the trees which had lost all their leaves; little snowflakes started falling from the grey sky. I loved winter with its cold, snowy days; but mostly because there is one of the most wonderful festivities: Christmas. That was the only time of the year when I could meet my uncle and my aunt; I'd prefer meeting my parents, but that wasn't possible anymore. It's surprising how a lot of things can change in just one year: a Christmas ago I was having dinner and singing happy songs with my parents; a Christmas later they were gone forever. My uncle and my aunt were the only family I had now; I loved and missed them, even though they didn't care much about me.

Thinking of them, I realized it was nearly Christmas: I needed to call them. As I walked, I pulled out my phone and dialed my uncle's number.

"Uncle Fred?", I called.

"Yeah? Who is it?"

"It's Patrick... nice, you don't even remember you have a nephew. How sweet."

"Patrick? What do you want?", he shouted.

"Is aunt Liza there? I see you aren't in the right mood to talk."

"Of course I don't wanna talk, I'm driving and I can't waste my time talking to a snotty kid like you."

"Did you get drunk again?"

"Hell, no! Stop saying bullshit."

"I'm gonna call Liza; she's probably worried."

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick! Don't you dare call her. Now just tell me what the hell you want and stop bothering me."

"Okay; first, don't talk to me like this."

"Hah, I can talk to you however I want."

"No, you can't. And second, I just wanted to know if I can come over to yours for Christmas; but I'll ask Liza because I know you don't give a damn about me."

But when I finished talking, I noticed he had already hung up. I sighed and called my aunt, informing her about Fred. However, she allowed me to come to their house for Christmas.

When I arrived home, I plopped myself on the bed and slept for the rest of the day; I didn't want to open my eyes again, it just hurt too much sometimes.

*Author's Note*

563 words! Yay! xD

Dreammaker_222

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