//PATRICKS POV\\

"Pete," I whisper. Pain engulfs me entire body, prickling me from head to toe. It hurts, but I'm focusing on the unconscious lump in a wheelchair, next to me. "Pete," I try again.

"Shh, Patrick. He'll be alright." Hayley is sitting next to me, trying to calm me down. "I'm going to go get help. I'll be right back. Hang in there, bud."

I glance over to Brendon and Sarah. Brendon is out, paler than a ghost. Sarah is cradling him, rocking him back and forth. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, making the small amount of eyeliner on her eyelids streak her face. "Stay alive, for me," she whispers into his ear.

"They're in here!" Hayley's voice is on the other side of the door for only a split-second, before she's back in the bathroom, many men and women in the same black clothing jog in.

A woman kneels next to Sarah, and Brendon; her long, brown hair in a high, neat ponytail. She presses her fingers to his collar bone, and nods. "It's weak, but there is a pulse. Roy, get us 3 stretchers." She looks at Sarah, sympathy growing in her concerned expression. "He'll be alright. We'll fix him up, good as new," she promises.

Sarah glances up at her, still cradling Brendon. "Thank you." She bites back another sob.

A man has already attended to Pete. He's pushing gauze on the wound on his stomach. Pete looks pale, sweaty, almost. It's obvious that he needs immediate help.

A woman with black hair, that is loose and about shoulder length, crouches next to me. "Hi," She greets. I wince as she examines the wound on my back. "What's your name, sweetheart?" She asks, giving a glance to my face, which is stuck in a permanent wince.

"P- Patrick," I force out "Patrick Stump." I can't tell if I'm numb, or just in too much pain, but I don't feel anything. My head pounds, as I stare at my friends, injured, and unconscious.

"M'kay, Patrick, we're going to fix you up, good as new, okay? You just have to keep your eyes open, and let me know what you're feeling, okay?" She asks, giving hw a small smile.

I groan, twisting onto my side, using my entire upper body to make the movement. "I can't feel my legs." I whimper. That's when I think of Pete. A spinal injury left him paralyzed from the waist down. What if that happened to me? What if that tiny piece of metal messed up my spine? What if I end up like Pete? Would he help me? Would he be there? Would I finally understand what it's like to be him?

"Hey, calm down. It's okay. We're going to get you onto this gurney, okay? This is going to hurt, so just bear with me, okay?" She asks. I nod, shutting my eyes and letting a whimper emerge from my throat.

I feel my body being lifted up and set back down, making me yelp in pain. I feel a scream creep it's way up my vocal chords, and I suppress it with another round of sobs. "Help me."

"It's alright, Trick," Hayley whispers next to me. "Just calm down. Think about that time when Brendon flipped off Mr. Howell for telling him to be quiet."

I let out a pained chuckle at the memory. Mr. Howell laughed too hard at that. Brendon knew how to make people laugh, even if it was for the worst reasons.

I stare above me. The bright lights in the school hallway pierce my vision, making me squint. I don't want to cry again. I can't cry again. It hurts. It's embarrassing. The lights seem endless. They stretch for what seems to be 20 minutes, but I'm guessing is only 2.

Then, daylight.

The clouds are covering the sun, but it's still bright enough to make me shriek in pain. I shut my eyes, wishing it was 9 at night. ((or in the afternoon))

"Patrick?!" I recognize that voice. They must have called her. She must be terrified.

"M-mom?" I whimper, not daring to open my eyes. I clench my hands into fists, screeching at the numbness in my legs, and the pain in my entire body. Agony.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm here." I can feel her hand grip mine, rubbing circles around it. "It's alright. You're okay." She sounded more like she was reassuring herself than me.

"M-mom, I'm scared." My head shifts to the side. I open my eyes a little, squinting to see her slim figure. "It hurts." My throat feels dry and my voice cracks. "He shot Brendon... and Pete. And he shot Gerard in the arm... and he shot himself," I cry. My eyes are wanting to close, now. sleep is threatening me. It's creeping in like a cat through a bedroom door at night.

"Shhh, honey. they're going to be fine. I promise. You just st focus on getting better, okay?" She kisses my forehead, and before I know it, I'm in an ambulance.

"Why?" I ask myself, "Why would he do this?" It wasn't Pete. Pete didn't cause this. I know it.

But Pete.

Pete will have a great impact on the effect of this.

I let my eyes close on their own as an oxygen mask is slipped into my face. "I'm so sorry," I wheeze. "Save my friends, please." I don't think anyone can hear me, but I say it anyway. "Please."

"We're losing him," someone says. "C'mon bud, you can do it. Don't give up, yet. Keep fighting." The words are gibberish. They're foreign to my ears. "We believe in you."

"Save my friends," I mouth. I can't produce any sound. "My friends."

Brendon

Pete

I don't care about myself. Just save them!

We're going down, down
In an earlier round
And sugar,
We're going
Down Swinging

I'll be your number one
With a bullet.

A loaded god complex
Cock it and pull it

--a/n--

This seems short. Well FRICK. I'm tired so bye

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-Emily aka, Foblvt