Patrick [On Hold]

Patrick's Phone Call

I had taken Brendon to my apartment that night, not wanting to drive to his place in the dark. He slept on my couch and I passed out on my bed.

When I woke, I was glad I didn't have work today because it was already ten in the morning.

I got up and went into my bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror for a good while. Bad thoughts filled my head and I just wanted them to shut up. Thoughts that made me feel weak and made my eyes prickle with the threat of uncontrollable tears. I gripped the sink and knew I had to take my depression pills today.

I opened my med cabinet and took two pills. I stared at the bottle for a few minutes. It'd be so easy.. No! Stop, Pete. I shoved the bottle into the cabinet and closed it. Shuddering, I went and got dressed.

Hearing noises from my apartment's kitchen, I headed out there. Brendon was making coffee.

"Mornin'," he mumbled.

I grunted in reply.

"Can you drive me to that bar sometime so I can get my car?"

"Sure."

I made some pancakes while he read my newspaper. "Dude, have you heard from Andy or Joe? Either we left before they came or they didn't show last night."

"Haven't heard anything."

"Maybe they were getting it on," he joked.

"Maybe they didn't want to hear your shit."

"That was harsh."

I finished the pancakes and put them on two plates. "You know any Patricks from around here?" I gave him his plate.

"Nope."

Huh. Maybe he's from out of town? This Patrick guy hasn't left my mind all night. I even dreamt about him.

After we finished breakfast, I took Brendon to the bar.

"Thanks man, I'll call you later, okay?" He said as he got out.

"Yeah, sure thing, Bren."

I watched him get in his car and drive away. I looked towards the alley and was disappointed when I didn't see any dark shadows. My pills mustn't have kicked in yet because the thoughts were back. I banged my head against the headrest in the car.

My phone started ringing and I answered it. "Hello?"

There was a ruffling noise for a few seconds. "P-pete?"

"Patrick?"

"Yeah, oh God, Pete.. It's so bad.."

"Patrick what's wrong?"

His voice was muffled and sounded staticky. "Pete, you need to come pick me up," more ruffling noises, "please."

"Okay, where are you?"

"Two twenty-one, Richardson Street.."

He hung up.

I hoped he was okay. I drove around town looking for Richardson Street. After ten minutes of searching, I found it. I drove down the street.

Why would Patrick be here? It looked like a bunch of abandoned houses and buildings. It was probably where the druggies go. Oh gosh, please don't let Patrick be a druggy.

I found the building 221. It was an old looking apartment building. I got out and locked my car. This was a really shady part of town.

I went in and looked around. I was right about it being an apartment building. Though it looked uninhabitable. Walls and doors were missing and there were cobwebs and graffiti everywhere.

"Patrick?" I called out.

I went deeper into the building. I searched the first floor and found a stairwell. Should I go up? I bit my lip, he better be seriously injured or something because I'm scared shitless.

I took a few steps before I heard a noise coming from upstairs. It sounded like something being dragged. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

I peaked around the corner but didn't see anything. Just another corridor and missing walls. I slowly went up there and walked through the hall.

"Patrick!" I whispered.

Something made a thunk! noise. I looked into the room I thought I heard it come from. Nothing.

That was the last room in this building. He wasn't here. And the noises seemed to be coming from no where. I turned and ran back to my car. When I got in, I made sure to lock the doors again. What the hell was that? Was he messing with me?

I started the car and was about to drive away when someone walked in front of my car. I first noticed that he was bloody. Then I noticed that it was Patrick. He held up his hand towards the car before collapsing.