Patrick lay motionless on the bed. He was unconscious. His cuts were wrapped up with medical gauze from a first aid kit Pete found in the closet. Pete had done the best he could and hoped it would be enough. He sat in a chair beside his friend. Pete buried his face in hands. Was there something I missed? Why did Patrick do this to himself? Why didn't he talk to me? Questions buzzed in Petes mind, but he couldnt find an answer. A sob escaped Pete's throat. Tears dripped down his cheeks. He took away his hands and realized they were bloodstained, along with his clothing. It didn't concern him.
Before, Pete tried to get Patrick to go to the hospital, but Patrick refused. Pete had an idea why.
It was late. Pete told himself to watch his friend. He had to. But after about an hour, Pete began slipping into dream world....
Patrick was lost. He faintly remembered entering the house, but after that, nothing. He remembered the damage he did to himself, though.
"Why..." Patrick asked himself. "There has to be a reason..." He searched his brain for one, what had been troubling him that he couldn't talk to his closest friend?
Pete awoke with a start. His dreams were unpleasant, filled with screams, red, and finding Patrick in the alley, covered in blood...
Patrick stirred in the bed. He cautiously opened his eyes. Where am I? he thought. Pete sat beside him, covered in blood and apparently asleep. Patrick blinked and inhaled sharply. He was aware of pain.
Pete quickly looked to Patrick at the gasp. He was awake! "Patrick..." Pete slid to the ground and kneeled beside the bed. "How are you?" he asked softly.
"It...hurts..." Patrick managed to squeak. 'It' being his body.
"Okay, I'll be right back," Pete left the room, coming back thirty seconds later with two aspirins and a glass half empty of water. His hands were shaking. He offered the tablets to Patrick.
Patrick raised his arm and noticed it was wrapped up. He took the pills and sipped the water. He handed the empty glass to Pete and rolled over, half wincing.
Tears filled Pete's eye. "Patrick, I'm so sorry!" he cried, burying his face in his hands. He felt like this was his fault, like he put Patrick in pain.
Patrick blinked back the tears. "No, Pete," he said. "Don't be sorry--you didn't do this--" He reached for his friend. He held Pete's hand in his and managed a weak smile.
"Everyone makes mistakes."