Breathe Me Back To Life •Patrick Stump+Fall Out Boy•

Chapter Thirty Six: You Make Me Sick, I Make It Worse By Drinking Late

Dedication goes out to Mrs_MunchingCanadian for being lovely!

||Cole Wentz|| First Person||

So tell me

How does it feel?

How does it feel to be like you?

I think your mouth should be quiet

Cause it never tells the truth

I twist my head behind me, trying to see if Andy was still following after me in the sea of people swarming through the streets of Whistler. I stumble forward after a snooty woman in an ugly brown coat shoves me, mumbling something about thuggish, rebellious teenagers. While I'm running, I look at the woman, flip my middle finger up at her and shout something clearly indecent and profane. That's when someone's hand is grabbing my wrist, squeezing it painfully, and pulling me into the sliver of space between a smoke shop and a small grocery store. His scent fills my nose like musk, and I don't have to even look at him to know who he was. Not that he gave me the time to before he was pushing me farther into the alley and inevitably attacking me.

"There you are." He whispers huskily, slamming my back into the alleyway's rough, scratchy, and painful brick wall. I gasp in shock, but I also gasped because the air was sent shooting right out of my lungs from the impact. I realize at that second that I really haven't completely recovered from the beating Elisa gave me in Paintball. "So pretty. Oh my, are you avoiding me?" He chuckles lightly, his expression resembling happiness before his smile is gone and he's in my face again, anger sprawled across his chiseled features as he yanks me back from the wall and then slams me into it with much more force than before.

"Let. Me. Go. Asshole." I demand in a low and dangerous voice, trying to seem the slightest bit stronger than I actually am. Derek, the one who I trusted completely all those months ago, sees right through my familiar act. He actually laughs at me.

"You talk as if you're in the position to do anything but beg for mercy." Derek growls, holding his arm over my neck in an intimidating way. How could that have been anything less than intimidating, though? If he pressed any farther, I'd probably be clawing at his arm and choking to death from strangulation. "Try and talk again."

"Go fučk yourself." I say, raising my leg to possibly jut my knee into his groin. Derek sees right through me, though, kicking my shins and standing on my Vans, both crushing my size seven feet and keeping my legs in place. I almost cry.

"Tsk, tsk." Derek whispers, his hot breath burning my ear like acid. "Now you see why I thought it'd be easier to drug you."

"Get the fuc-" Derek doesn't let me finish my sentence before he's shiving his arm harder against my neck, choking me. I gasp for air, struggling to pull in oxygen. I can't breathe. I want to beg for him to stop, but that's what he wants, and I swore I wouldn't give Derek anymore satisfaction than what he's already taken from me.

"You really have a mouth on you." Derek says, pressing his lips to my neck. I flinch immediately, wanting him off of me. I can't help but remember how blind I was- how much I actually used to love him. It makes me sick. He leaves a trail of kisses down my neck, finally taking my skin between his teeth and sucking on it harshly. He's trying to give me a hickey. I try to scream, but my voice is cracked and hoarse because the air is being cut off from my neck up. He applies more pressure, if humanly possible, cutting off all my chances of even croaking out a syllable. I truly cannot breathe. I'm going to die in four minutes if I don't get any oxygen to my brain, or that's at least what I read on the Internet. My arms are still free, and I use them to claw at the arm over my throat. I raise one arm and practically smash my elbow into his temple. I do it again and again, and I want to bludgeon his head in before he does it.