Part 13: Pete Wentz, Serial Killer

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Pete's POV:

He was perfect when he slept. I watched him throughout the night, holding him so nobody else could lay a finger on him. They would have to pry me off, and even then I would put up a fight. Eventually, though, I grew weary of being in the same position for hours on end, so I left his side at one in the morning to stretch my limbs. The night was calm. 

I scanned the surrounding area outside the window. Nobody in sight. I decided to have a look downstairs just to double check. It was somewhat unnerving being alone in the darkness of the bookstore. Flashbacks of the fight I had with William came to me, the one where I first met Patrick. 

This boy made me feel some type of way. I couldn't pinpoint what exactly, but it was definitely something more than what I ever expected. It wasn't just this protective thing. I wanted to hold him and hug him and kiss him when he was actually conscious and not sneak it in. There wasn't any way he'd go for me, some murdering psychopath with other murdering psychopaths after him. 

Patrick had a future. Who was I to force him to choose me over going off to live a normal life? Certainly a nobody if anything at all. Suddenly, I heard something fall to the ground. My brain automatically went into high alert, and my stance shifted from relaxed to cautious with my shoulders raised, legs stiff, hands clenched into fists. I listened closely. 

Somebody was in the store. Patrick hadn't locked up. He had been too busy taking care of my eyes. They dashed into a book shelf, knocking it to the ground, and I followed the sound.

"If you know what's good for you I suggest you leave right now," I warned.

Another stack of books tumbled to the ground.
"Don't play these childish games. Face me, coward."
But they continued to toy me around, tossing things left and right, running around like an absolute idiot. I began to feel frustrated. 

I darted towards the light switch, turning it on and seeing the mess the culprit had made. Patrick was going to be furious when he saw this too. The person was cloaked in all black clothes. Their face was concealed with a ski mask. 

They backed into a corner, hands raised in the air. I could deal with a robber. Not all robbers were vampires.

"Alright. Come on. I'm taking you to the police."
I reached for them, but as soon as I did they grabbed my wrist, spinning me so I was up against the wall, and they rammed a knee into my stomach. 

They were strong, too strong. I couldn't free myself as they threw punches and kicks. This was definitely not a simple robber.

"I'll kill you if you touch him!" I said between blows.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," they chuckled underneath their breath, "I'm not here for your little boyfriend."

They put me into a headlock and dragged me out of the store while I attempted to twist my way out.
"The revolution starts with you," they said.
"What?! What does that mean?!"

"You'll find out soon enough."

I felt a prick against my neck and realized it was a syringe. They were injecting me with something, something that made me feel numb all over. There was a slight pain where they did it, and my mouth contorted into a grimace. I slumped. 

My chin met the concrete. They lifted their mask, and for half a second I saw his face. William.

***

My mind was fuzzy. Everything was fuzzy. There were lights, coruscating blue and red lights, that bounced off the brick walls. I was crouching against a fence. Bright headlights flashed onto my face. 

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