I'm Not Making Any Sense

Chapter 11

"Alright, alright. Brendon first." Alex threw a pillow at the other boy and sat back against the wall. We were all sitting in his cell and feeling pretty chill in each others presence.
"Kay. Brendon Boyd Urie. April 12th. Schizoid, depressed, insomniac. Basically, a sixteen year old psychopath. Umm... I lied when I said self admitted, but it wasn't a total lie because I told my parents I wanted to be in here."
Patrick nodded then the pillow was thrown at him. Hit him square in the face and knocked his glasses off. He retrieved them and sighed. "Patrick Martin Stump. April 27th. Bulimic, depression, and anxiety. My parents worried that I would jump off a roof once when I was twelve, but I told I just wanted to see the skyline of Chicago."
"Chicago? You're from there too?" I interjected, giving an apologetic yet enthusiastic smile.
Trick nodded. "Yup. Willamette."
"No fucking way."
"Way. Anywho, my parents put me in here because they feared I'd puke myself to death. I told them I wasn't that stupid. But would I be here if they listened?" He threw the pillow to me.
"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third. Birthday's June fifth. Depressed schizoid with shitty anxiety and was suicidal. That says it all right there. I failed at killing myself, obviously."
Alex took the pillow. "Alexander William Gaskarth. After my episode, I don't think I have to explain much why I'm here."
Patrick was the one to ask the next question that turned everything weird and he didn't even mean to. "Brendon? Who's Ryan?"
Brendon went silent and stopped smiling. He bit his bottom lip and began flattening his hair. 3 out of 4 of us had that nervous habit, but I think it was also there because of how we all had our hair the same way.
"A friend of mine. He- he's just a friend." Brendon nodded to confirm that and the rest of us glanced at each other.
"You talk about him to yourself a lot. Best friend? Boyfriend?" I asked, joking on the second bit.
"No!" He slugged me in the arm and laughed nervously. "Just my friend."
"Alright, alright," I smiled, rubbing the forming bruise on my arm. "Only kidding."
We then sat in an awkward silence for about twenty minutes. That twenty minutes allowed us to all zone out into our own little worlds. And that was unfortunate for me.
As soon as I let my brain take over, things started moving across the walls and floors. I never knew exactly what they were but to me they looked like spiders or beetles. Both equally disgusting. But when you see them and they aren't really there, it makes your heart race like nothing you ever want to feel. And I was the unfortunate one to see them.
I swallowed hard as I saw one or two scamper across my hand and then another over my ankle. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure everyone else could hear it. Fingers, that I'm sure were my own, started gripping tightly at my clothing then nails were digging into the skin beneath. They were everywhere.
Then suddenly, they were gone and there was a hand gripping my wrist.
I blinked wildly and looked down at the hand. It was gripping so tightly to my wrist, I thought it would cut off the circulation.
"Pete?"
I looked up and saw the hand belonged to Patrick. His blue-green eyes were so full of worry and I could see that he knew what had just happened, well, roughly guessed.
"You're alright." It was a statement like he had dealt with this before.
I shook my head. "No. I'm not." The hardest thing for someone to say.
Brendon and Alex were staring at me too. Both of them as worried as Trick.
Trick took a deep breath and nodded positively. "Yes, yes you are."
I felt like crying but couldn't. I just couldn't. So I just closed my eyes and let my head drop.
Then Patrick did something I had wanted to do ever since I heard him speak. He pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me. And then I did start crying. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried on his shoulder.
It wasn't because of what had just happened, but because someone actually seemed to really care. I mean, I guess we all did care about each other in some way but could never act on it. But Patrick hugging me sealed the deal.
"Told you you were alright," he whispered.
"I'm crying, dumbass."
"I meant, this place hasn't taken your humanity away. You still have emotion."
"Course I do."
"Didn't seem like you had this kind of emotion or fear."
Somehow that got me to stop crying and start thinking. He was making sense, but then he wasn't. Take away my humanity? Emotionless?
My cheek was so close to his, I could feel him biting the inside of his. "Come on," he whispered, pulling away then standing, pulling me with him. He lead me to my cell then sat down on the floor and I followed.
"Look, what I mean is: Brendon has like two emotions, happy and depressed. Alex doesn't seem to have any. And I, well, anger and happiness, I guess. But you still have that vulnerable emotional side. And you can't deny that, Pete. When I said you were alright, I meant you hadn't lost something the rest of us have. I don't feel human anymore and I haven't even been here as long as you or the other two. But seeing that fear and vulnerability in your eyes reminded me that there's still a bit of life in this dead place. Don't lose that. Please, don't. Then we'd all be sad. And that would seriously suck."
I stared at him and understood. And then started crying into my hands. I felt awful because I knew he was right.
He sighed sweetly and pulled me in again. "You're good."
"Nearly have a freak attack and you-"
"Dude, shut up or you will have a freak attack."
"Thanks." I continued to cry and Patrick kept his arms around me. It was pretty childish, but it felt good. Then I started crying harder because I knew it would only be this one time he could do this. And I hugged him tighter. As tight as possible without squeezing all the air out of him.
Trick started laughing and hugged back in the same way. Okay, so he was a little soft around the middle but that made him a better hugger. I didn't care. He was my friend and I was his. Finally, I had someone who really seemed to care what happened to me. Someone who wanted me to get better and be able to leave that place. And the feeling was mutual.
"Too bad they can't let us out like this more." He said exactly what I was thinking and I knew he had figured out that that was the reason I was crying so much now. The shoulder of his shirt was completely soaked and his skin was wet too. But he didn't seem to mind.
"Wish they could," I sobbed.
He pushed with all his might to detach me from him, and, after a while, I let go.
"It's not fair. Why are we in this ward anyway? Other wards they are allowed out in the open and get to hang out with other psychos. Why the hell can't we?"
I wiped my eyes and flipped my hair away. "I have no idea." And I really didn't. I never even thought of that. We weren't that crazy anyway. If anything, Patrick and Alex were pretty sane. Depressed but sane.
"Suicidal? Maybe they're afraid of us?"
I shook my head. "Alex and Urie have never tried. I have but that's not enough to throw me in here. And you-"
"Never tried. Ever."
"Thought so."
It had never really occurred to me that we were one of few wards that didn't get to mingle.
"That's fucked up." Trick fixed his hat and sat back on his hands. "Could we ask?"
"We could, but I doubt they'd let us out again." I rubbed at my eyes, thinking about what could happen if they ever let us out regularly. Who would get choked first? Who would turn gay first? Who would start pounding on the door to be let out first? The answer to those would probably all be Brendon. I mean, come on. It would be him.
"Why?"
I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and shuddered. "Cause, we must've been put in cages for some reason. Seriously, though. These are cages." I saw it again and rolled my shoulders.
"Yeah. Are you still seeing things?"
I nodded grimly. "Perks of being me."
"And Brendon. Who do you think Ryan is?"
It was actually a really good question. The name Ryan floated out of Brendon's mouth more times than he had a tantrum. The dude was nuts about whoever this Ryan guy was.
"I really dunno."
"Hm. Wanna keep working on stuff?" Trick smiled and got up, walking over to the desk. He seemed intent on working on them and I figured it would keep my mind off things.
"Yeah, sure," I smiled, hopping up and joining him. "You really like making up the music and shit, don't you?"
"Hell yeah!" He smiled, pulling out the papers we hadn't worked on. Trick seemed happy now even though he kept giving me worried looks like I was going to panic again. I wasn't planning to, but I could if that damn thing didn't stop moving in my sight.
"Wanna try to fix that spot in Dance, Dance?"
I rubbed at my eyes again and shook my head. Five days? Six? I had lost count of the last time I had gotten a full night of sleep. A few hours or minutes here and there, but nothing worthy of filling my insomniac life.
"Okay... What about the verse in-"
"Can we try singing one of them?" I asked, impatiently pulling at my shirt.
Trick blinked in confusion but I could see him thinking about it. "I- I don't see why not. Which one?"
I started looking through what we had worked on and pulled out Saturday.
"Um... I'm the only one who-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I like hearing you sing though." I stared right into his eyes so I could focus on something to try and make the thing go away.
"O-okay..." He took the paper and cleared his throat. A big breath was taken and then he was singing. Oh how I loved his singing voice. How did that kind of voice come from a kid like him?
Then there was the falsetto. Good God! It sent chills down my spine and set a smile on my lips.
He started to laugh a little nearing the finish. I had no idea why, but it was pretty funny. He finished and was in a fit of laughter.
"The hell is so funny? That was amazing!"
He shook his head, trying to calm down. "No, no. It's just..." He coughed a little and finally quit laughing. "We wrote a song and I just sang it and you just listened to me sing it. What the hell?"
I was just as dumbfounded when he said that. It seriously did baffle me that we had done that and he just sang it. We did it only once before, but somehow this was more interesting. More exciting.
"Hey. Hey, Patrick. Hey." I started poking him in the arm like a child.
"What?"
"We wrote a song!"
That sent us both reeling. It was too exciting!
But then Brendon stepped into the doorway with a nervous look on his face and he was tugging at his shirt. We stopped laughing and looked at him.
"Pete? Can I talk to you?"