Come On Angel, Don't You Cry

Chapter 5: The Execution

*Authors Note: I would please like to tell you I am not that great with laws so sorry if I get something wrong... but I'm yeah this is just for the rest of the book...*

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I walk into my bedroom, glad that it will be the last time I have to climb the dreaded and extremely shaky ladder that leads to the attic, in which my room has been set up. I step into the room and start the waiting process. Waiting for my mother to go to sleep. Waiting til 1:50, when I can call Pete. And most of all waiting for the moment I can call Gerard mine.

At exactly 1:50, nearly 10 minutes after my 'mom' had finally drifted off to sleep, I dial the number I have come to know as Pete Wentz's and wait once again. This time for him to answer.

He answers after the second ring, still bearing that blatantly obvious faux confidence that he adopts when he is trying to impress someone or prove them wrong.

"Hello?" He asks as I hear a vague voice in the background. Although there wasn't much I could tell about said voice, I did know that the voice belonged to a male and that I had heard it in the background of Pete's calls before. And somewhere else but I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"It's time." This is all I say before I hang up the phone; I'm almost positive that Pete will know what I mean. After writing down some phone numbers like Pete's and Vic's and a few others I resort to smashing my phone under a dresser so that no one, not even the police will be able to track me. Well, unless I'm stupid enough to use a credit card or something like that.

Which, you should note, I'm not. I know how the police work. I can't risk being caught and having Gee taken from me while I go to rot in a prison for an extended amount of time. Especially if that prison happens to be Belleville Correctional Facility.

I meet Pete several blocks away next to the abandoned house with the shattered windows and busted down doors. The overgrown grass, busted shutters and falling shingles all add to the haunted aspects. Apparently the man that once resided there died like 10 years ago or something, definitely before my dad lost his job and we had to move to this horrid town, and is like set out to scare the living shit out of anyone who dares step foot on his lawn. But that story can wait.

Pete opens the passenger side door and slides in just as I put my foot on the gas again and the car starts to move forward. I do truly love this car but I already have the money for a new one so it will be harder for them to track me. I also know exactly what I want. Of course its not the cheapest thing. A black 1967 Chevy Impala 4 door, similar to my own but an earlier model and more expensive, but I have already raided the safe that my father forgot about in the basement. $150,000 should last me for a while right? Exactly.

'How could someone forget they had that much money?!' You ask. Well when your constantly drunk you kinda forget important stuff like that.

I found it last year while snooping around and decided that when the time was right I'd break the lock and run away. So that's what I'm doing. I'm only 16 and could possibly have grand theft and kidnapping added to my record, along with the assault charge (which I spent quite a while in juvie for), arsonry, vandalism and much more.