Waiting For An Angel. ~ Pete

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

The Drink Is Gonna Kill Us.
In The Houses We Call Homes.
I’m Waiting For An Angel.
To Save Me From Myself.
I’m Boarding Up The Windows.
And Locking All The Doors.
I Gave Up On Every One.
And Every One Gave Up On Me.

[/b] She asked them, what was the worst? Deryck had probably broken his lucky pick again, mind you his lucky pick changed every week.
“Brodie…listen…” Mikey began quietly.
“Just tell her!” Deryck snapped, upset before he looked at her apologetically.
“Guys what the fuck is going on?”
“Oh Dodz…were sorry…we voted you out the band.” And in a moment her entire world shattered.

Brodie just stood there, her hand dropped from her bass and it was left there handing round her neck. And dear god she almost felt like she was having a panic attack. This was the last time…she wasn’t even a member of the band anymore. She wouldn’t be playing with them again. And the world was crashing, burring and she wasn’t even high and she didn’t like this type of blur.

They walked out on stage, leaving her as her manager came up being her and gave her a forceful push on to the stage. She stood there for a moment looking at the crowd. Taking it in, she found herself lost…so many people here to see them…and they had no idea of what just happened. And suddenly she put on that stage glair she was known for, as the drums kicked in the guitar riff belted out the amps she hit the bass pedal and went for it. She started battering the crap out the poor instrument. AS if trying to cause it mortal damage as her fingers flowed flawlessly over the thick wound strings.

What had happened…what was happening? The set flew past, lost in thought as she flung herself round that stage in every way possible, the bass was wrecked already, the D string had snapped – lord knows how she managed it. And with one swift movement at the end of their last song she took her bass off, swing it through the air and in to the drum kit. That was just for starters. She started destroying everything she could. If they were making her leave – she wasn’t doing it quietly. There were tears, actual tears burning her eyes and she drove the bass in to the stage, shattering it in to splinters, again and again until it couldn’t physically be in any more pieces.

The force of her destruction didn’t stop there, she just walked off stage, stormed off pushing past security as she bit hot tears back, people were yelling at her, the management going crazy, her band trying to hold it together on stage and the crowd stunned. Reporters were going apeshit as she pushed past, one of them said something and she snapped pushing them over and storming off. First stop was the tourbus, well it had been her tourbus before she got kicked out her band. She snatched the large bottle of vodka up and the full bottle of pills stiffing it in to her pocket. The bus didn’t escape her wrath either, she drew her hand along the table knocking everything off it leaving a mess of glass on the floor, she picked up a stone outside and started throwing it at the window. She wasn’t happy until the bus was wrecked. The whole site was in chaos as she left, taking the back way out and she just kept walking, the untouched bottle and pills in her possession.

Before she knew it she found herself in the graveyard. She found the one she had carved the band name on. Sat down and looked at it. This band she had never been a part of. She was never welcome. Brodie gave up a long time ago on the world, and the world had given up on her. It was the way it worked. Looking round she found the knife and picked it up. She crossed out the name, it took a lot more effort than she thought, though that’s because her hand hurt, she looked down at them, the cut from the glass had opened again , she had another from the flying glass when she broke the windows. She just kept scoring it out. She had to erase it. She had to get rid of it.

She sat there. She had nothing left. Nothing at all. Three simple letters were scored in to the stone as a replacement. R.I.P. That was it. All that was left was to take what she had on her. She threw the knife as far as possible. She had no need for it now, sitting the bottle of pills on top of the tombstone she watched how they balanced. The unopened bottle of vodka by her side.

Sitting and looking she felt the tears burn her cheeks. She wondered if her tears were made of vodka, she had drank enough in the past for it to happen.

There was nothing at all left. She had killed herself, her band and her spirit. All that was left was the body. [/ul][/size][/blockquote][/color]

[Pete Wentz]

[/i][/b] a man said as he entered the tent and got behind the table with the man serving. "Apparently her band just chucked her out and she lost it, she's trashed their set."
Pete looked up at this, and then at Charlie again, who was stepping forward in the line. Pete looked worried suddenly and he looked around the tent and then back at Charlie. He had a very, very good idea who it was on stage.
"Get the food," Pete said, and he turned around and ran out of the tent before Charlie could even reply to him. It was growing dark now, and he pushed through crowds of people, heading toward the stage. He avoided the mass of people infront of it, glancing up at the stage to see the broken equipment. He flashed his backstage pass at the man at the door and pushed through, heading to see the band that had just come off of stage. He recognized them, he'd seen the play before - 2nd*R.
"You!" Pete snapped, heading toward the three of them. "Where is she?" Pete asked as their management looked around. "Where's Brodie?" Pete asked. The three exchanged looks and then looked back at Pete, as if wondering how exactly he knew her and why he cared. "Where the fuck is she?" Pete asked again, stepping forward. Sure, he was a small person, but it wasn't like Pete to not care, he cared too much sometimes, and he'd always get involved when a friend was at stake.
"We don't know," one of them spoke up. "She's gone, we can't find her."
And someone's gonna have to pay for the shit she's fucked up!" Their manager snapped. "She's fucking out of here, but someone's gotta pay for it and it ain't gonna be us!"[/i]
Pete glanced at the man and then back at the band, he shook his head. They'd kicked her out of the band, and she'd decided to give them one last show that they would never forget. He sighed and looked around again - she'd lost it. What if she was on drugs? What if she got hurt? In her condition she could do absolutely anything. Pete had brought their CD earlier, he'd listened to it in the tour bus, it hadn't been bad, but while scanning the artwork he'd seen that Brodie hadn't even been credited under the bass. No one had given her chance to have her input into their creation, and yet they had still kept her in the band, strung her along for that long.
"Right," Pete said, he couldn't blame them for kicking her out, but he still didn't find them exactly personable people right now. He just hoped their CD was made of stuff that was easy to burn, he could probably use it on their bonfire for later. He shook his head and started through the backstage doors, looking through the rooms like he had done yesterday when looking for Jon. He slammed them all, angry that he couldn't find Brodie. Walking toward the exit he pushed the door open and walked aroun the back of the place, walking toward the equipment. Brodie and him had been sitting there yesterday, but now she wasn't there. Pete pulled his sunglasses off and threw them against the wall, putting his face in his hand.
"Fuck!" He growled, leaning his back against the wall and shutting his eyes monentarily. He drew his hands away slowly and looked at the bag that had held Brodie's pills, which was again caught up in a gust of wind. Pete looked at it for a second, and then started walking again, thinking he knew where she might be. It was the last place he could think of to look, and his fast-paced walk broke into a run as he sprinted across the parking lot, heading for the Graveyard of Tombstone Festival. He could see as he ran up to them that the gates were locked now, but luckily for Pete he was agile enough to be able to scale them quite quickly. His onstage antics including climbing up and hanging off anything he could given the chance, and that was coming in handy now as he landed on the other side of the gates. He started walking toward where he remembered the tombstone of 2nd*R to be, and his walk broke into a run again as he saw a solitary figure. He noticed the bottle of vodka, and then the pills in the girls hand and his heart fluttered.
He shook his head, whispering 'no' under his breath several times as he fell down to his knees infront of Brodie, looking horrified at her.
"Brodie," he said quietly, his eyes darting from the stone to her, and then at the pills in her hand. Violent flashbacks of Pete's own overdose plagued him for a second, for a brief second he could see the Best Buy parking lot, his sister's car... the pills in his hand... his band's CD grasped in the other. He looked up at Brodie again though, knowing that her overdose would be intent on ending her life rather than shutting up the voices. "Oh my God," Pete whispered, seeing the blood on her hand and on the knife. He was speechless, utterly speechless...He'd never been in this situation before.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

There's no Family.
There's No Community.

[/color]

[/i] That was the worst part of it. She could remember the teachers, the ones that told her she would amount to nothing. They were right. Every damn fucking one of them had been right.

Her eyes were focused on the tombstone. She hadn't even registered Pete there in front of her. She just sat there. This was a different Brodie. A sober Brodie. She had an ethic. She had never once played while being high or drunk. It was to special to wreck. The one thing keeping her alive had been ripped from her, torn from her life. She had lost everything to what? To a couple of pills and a bottle of alcohol.

Her hands trembled, she wasn't sure if it was the craving she had for something, anything to take all this away. She wanted a pill that would stop her feeling. That way she would stop all together. Anything to stop all this...this was as desperate as she got. Life was a bitch, but this was more than she could take. Crying she doubled over, letting her forehead fall on to her knees.

There was nothing left. Nothing but a bottle of vodka and pills. That was all she needed to make this all right. To clean up her mess, to clean everything up. "Go away." She told him, her voice portrayed exactly how she felt. There was no anger, no violence, just pain. She couldn't explain how it felt. How bad it hurt to know the only people she had left, she had made them hate her.

She had done this to herself.

No one else really cared...a sorry state of affairs. She hoped they would find her body in the morning...and just chuck it away...it was worthless and Brodie didn't exactly deserve a funeral, she was pretty sure no one would come anyway.[/ul][/size][/color][/blockquote]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete told her. "I can't walk away now, Brodie," Pete said quietly. He looked at the pills and then at the vodka, it was obvious what Brodie's intentions were, and it scared Pete. He'd seen it all before - been through it, even, minus the alcohol, of course. He wasn't going to walk away and let her do this, becase Pete knew well how everything could have gone down in that parking lot, and how he might not have been sitting there right that minute if he hadn't made a simple phone call.
"Brodie, I can't let you so this," Pete said to her, not even sure that she was listening but he carried on regardless. "It's not right... it's not the way to get around things... I know how you feel, Brodie, I know exactly how you feel. For an entire year of my life I felt like the only thing I wanted to do was die... I tried to shut all the voices up, Brodie. I sat in my car and I took a handful of pills," Pete said to her, moving closer. "But I'm so, so glad about how things worked out though," he told her. "Brodie, you don't want to do this... you're nineteen years old. This is not the end of everything, this isn't right and you know it isn't," Pete said, speaking precisely and slowly. "Please," he said to her. She was planning on taking the pills and chasing it down with the vodka - and Pete didn't want to bear witness to that. He didn't want to see Brodie suffer anymore.
"I know it's hard, and I know full well there are times when you regret ever being alive. Times when you wish you couldn't feel any emotion or pain, because it reminds you're alive, and it's easier to see the end of it all than battle through," Pete swallowed hard, shivering now inspite of himself. It wasn't because it was cold, because it was warm out tonight, but he was so scared about the consequences of what might happen if he failed with what he was trying to achieve. "But that battle is always worth it, Brodie, because there's always someone there, no matter what. You're never alone," Pete told her. "I know how you feel, with expectations pressed on you... I've had them all my life from my parents, they expected me to be something great, like a lawyer... but that wasn't what interested me. I loved music because it challanged me, and I felt like I was doing something worthwhile... and I think you feel the same, Brodie. I know you feel the same. This isn't the end, this is far from the end, Brodie, this isn't it," Pete told her. "Those pills won't make anything better, the alcohol might drown it all out for a while but then you've got another problem on your hand... I'm not here to tell you what to do, Brodie. I'm here to advise you... as a friend," Pete said. "I'm not here because of some mindless guilt, I'm here because I care... because if something happens to you tonight, Brodie, I'm going to hate myself because you have so much to offer... You're an amazing bassist, you have so much energy... a zest for life... You're a good person, Brodie, I know you are. Away from the camera flashes I know who you are and who you want to be, and you can be that person... but not this way... and this isn't helping anyone, least of all yourself," Pete said.
"I wanted to die as well, I didn't want to live anymore, it was so... dark..." Pete said, overwhelmed with how emotional this was. Would he have changed his mind had someone talked to him like this? Maybe. If It had been someone who cared deeply for him. "I thought I could solve all my problems, I thought downing the pills would shut me up for a while. I didn't care if I woke up, I was dispondent to anything," Pete said softly. "But it's better for me now," Pete said, his voice breaking now as tried to stop himself from crying. "I have people who care for me, and so do you, Brodie... you have me," Pete said. "And I know I'm not much, but I'm something... I'm a start," Pete said, swallowing again. "I know you don't have everything sorted out, and maybe you can't see a future... I know I couldn't, and I kind of still can't. So many people go through life without figuring it out... But, Brodie... you're the one who told me to go anywhere, and hope that we land on our feet... I haven't got it figured out and I'm twenty fucking eight soon, and I probably won't ever figure it out... Just... Don't do this..." Pete said, holding his hand out to her. "Please don't do this."[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

I'm So Desperately Sad That My Life Has Come To This.
Heaven Has Forgotten Me So Come On Everybody.
Clap Your Hands Together As I Watch My World Collapse.
Don't Waste Your Sympathy On Me.

[/i] at her as she died. She knew they were laughing. They had every right to. She giggled slightly. Oh it was hilarious how she had ended up like this. She found it funny, how she had ran for years from all her problems. She had run herself in to a hole and here she was stuck. Like some stupid animal.

This wasn't really the time to be laughing and truthfully it wasn't very funny, it was pathetic. She wanted to take them all, just drown in herself and lose it all completely. Maybe if it didn't work it would leave her brain dead anyway and she wouldn't be able to do anything. She could feel the blood on her hands, warm and sticky. Why was she bleeding? She wasn't human she shouldn't be. She shouldn't be like this, no one should end up like this. This wasn't right.

Listening to him she clutched the bottle tighter. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to walk away from all this, leave and start a new life but what was there to start? She was a fucking addict. Addicted to sad stories and self pity not to mention the drugs.

"How the hell do you know how I feel?" Brodie snapped out of upset rather than angry. "You don't know the fucking half of it!" Hot tears of sheer desperation marked her cheeks. She couldn't stand this any longer. She couldn't take anymore of this. "There ain't voices in my head anymore, there fucking everywhere. Telling me how to act, how to feel...taking everything left of me!" Well the break down was inevitable. "I had nothing. I had nothing at all. No family nothing, I was dumped as a baby in a bin. I was just left to die. I had absolutely nothing! They came to the home and picked us out like pets then when they got sick you they tossed you back!"

It wasn't pretty, nineteen and wrecked by her own mind. She was crying now, she could feel her body crying out for something to stem the emotion, this was too much...too long of keeping everything bottled up was coming to a conclusion. She wanted to go out with a bang. Do something incredibly stupid and end up with 'Moron' across her own tombstone, thats all she deserved. "Thats all they ever do when there stuck of me. They all do it - there meant to be my family! I used to have a fucking vision. I had creativity. I used to write. I used to take part...then we signed to that bastard and they took it from me. They said I was just a face!" She was starting to lose it. Lose all composure...or what she had left of it. "They took my work, they took the only thing I could do away from me! They took it all! And Now I have nothing left..."

She stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and contemplating reaching for that bottle. "Doesn't matter that I can play. No one give a shit. They just wanna laugh at the stupid fucked up kid who can't do anything. There isn't a future. Theres nothing left of me for it! SO just walk away while you can." [/size][/ul][/blockquote][/color]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete said firmly. "I'm not walking," he told Brodie. "I've felt like this since I was a teenager, Brodie. I've been on every fucking drug you can think of - I was anti-psychotics once," Pete said. "Depression... Manic depression... Type A Personality... Brodie, I know I'm not you, and I know I haven't had the same problems as you but I know how you feel. I felt so fucking dead to the world once," Pete told her. "Sometimes I still do - I'm still taking those pills and it's been over half a decade," Pete told her. "But there are days when things are better, and everything's clearer, and those are the days I live for, Brodie," Pete told her.
"Those people... your old band... they're fucking assholes, I know that!" Pete said, feeling desperate now, as if it was out of his control, which he hated so very much. "But not everybody out there is like that, Brodie, there are people out there who are doing things for the right reasons. I'm lucky, I know some of those people," Pete said. "I never said anything was going to be easy, Brodie, and nothing ever is. But there is always two choices, the easy way, and the right way," Pete said. "You just have to hold on, you have to stay afloat," Pete said. "It gets better... it really does," Pete told her.
He sat down on the grass again, pulling his hand back now, swallowing hard again. This was the last place he wanted to be right now, shivering and scared in the Graveyard. He took a second to glance at his band's own stone not too far away and he looked back at Brodie, determined that he wasn't going to let her do this.
"You don't have to do as they say anymore, Brodie, you can change everything... Don't see this as the end, because it's the beginning," Pete said. "You can start afresh now, you're not bound down to your band anymore, you're not bound down to anyone. You can do what you like, you don't have to be the Brodie everyone else wants... you can be the Brodie that you want," Pete told her. "But you have to trust me... You know that this isn't right, you know it, Brodie. This is your chance, this is your chance to start all over again and show everyone who you are really. It's your chance to start living again, Brodie," Pete told her. If someone had told him he was going to be doing this yesterday he would have called them completely insane, but of course, here he was, trying to talk Brodie out of killing herself. "Nobody's watching anymore, Brodie, there's no more cameras, no more press... You can start again, get a new band... do what you like with your life, you're not a tool," Pete said. "I give a shit that you can play, you're a fucking good bassist, Brodie. I'm an A&R, y'know, I have a record label... I know people," Pete said, swallowing again. "My friend... Patrick... our singer, he's fucking amazing at producing, he's incredible, Brodie. I don't know where I'd be without Patrick, Brodie," Pete said. "Please, just listen to me. One person can walk into your life and change everything one day," Pete said. "It just takes one person to make a difference," Pete said, and he held out his hand again, hoping that she would give him the pills. "This isn't the place, Brodie, not now."[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

I Used To Think I Had Something To Say
But My Dumb Ideology's Gave Me Away.
My Mistakes Happen So Much Its Success.
I've Been Doomed From The Start.
If You Don't Do Something They'll Steal It All From You.

[/i] to change. She had to sort herself out first. She looked at him...almost lost for a moment before she looked down at the pills in her hand...then to the bottle of vodka and the tomb stone.

She had let them walk all over her. No this time. She dropped the pills in to his hand. Giving up. He was right. She wasn't a tool. She wasn't there just to sell units and act as a marketing ploy. She was a human.

Picking the bottle up off the floor she opened it - but she wasn't going to drink it shockingly enough. She poured the strong smelling liquid on to the ground.

"It ends tonight."[/color][/blockquote][/ul][/size]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete smiled at her. He pulled his Sidekick out of his pocket and began to text Charlie, asking him to find someone to open the Tombstone Graveyard gates. Pocketing the pills Pete moved so that he was sitting beside Brodie. They weren't going to leave yet, because he didn't see the point. The gate would still be shut for a while. Looking at the tombstone Brodie had written he reached over with the blunt knife and with a lot of effort managed to scrap the 'RIP' off of it. It was over.
Pete collapsed on the ground, looking up at the night sky. He could honestly say that at that very precise moment he would have liked nothing better than to just break down. He didn't even spill that much to his therapist in forty-five minutes, let alone spill it all to a girl he'd known for just over twenty four hours. It was absurd, but it had worked. They were both alive, both reasonably healthy, and they were both going to be happy. Pete shut his eyes and smiled slightly, holding his finger up and looking at the tattoo on it. He shut his eyes again, dropping the knife as his Sidekick went, a text back from Charlie saying he was on his way. Pete looked at Brodie and smiled at her.
"It's admirable, Brodie," he told her. "I didn't have the strength," Pete told her. "But you do..." Pete said. God, he was never, ever going to forget this night. It was certainly something that he doubted Brodie would ever forget either. "They're going to open the gates; do you want to stay in our tour bus for a while? I'll bunk with the roadies or something if you like," Pete said.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

Poor Decisions, Poor Children.
Watch The World Though Gun Sight Eyes.
I Hijack Train Wrecks And Sell The Wheels.
Watch It - They'll Steal It All.

[/color]

[/b][/center]

It was strange when she had a clear head she could write, the lyrical words spilled from her lips and in a matter of moments she had managed to condense everything he had been trying to tell her in to a few verses. She sat there for a moment before saying anything else; "I'd..really appreciate that...thank you. Was a pretty good show though."[/size][/blockquote][/ul][/color]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] he told her. "Really good." He stood up from the grass and brushed his jeans off, putting the hood on his hoodie up again. "It's alright, those assholes deserve to be heckled with my presence... it's not like I actually sleep anyway... Chronic insomnia," Pete concluded, explaining why he said he never slept. He looked at the tombstones around them a sighed, it was quite a dingy place to be in right now, but Pete wasn't too bothered about it. He sat on the tombstone next to what had once been 2nd*R, glancing at the words on it.
"Sorry, Tyson," Pete smirked, sitting down on All American Rejects. He looked over at Brodie and then over at the gates, waiting now for them to be opened so they could go back to the tour buses. "Watch out for Joe, he loves to make sure everything's clean," Pete smiled. "He threw my computer in the trash once, I got pretty pissed... and then there's Dirty, he was our merch dude once but now Charlie throws him through tables at our shows. It's quite fun," Pete told her. He kept his eyes on the gates, and sighed as they opened. "Let's go," he said, standing up and looking at Brodie. "Wanna stop by first aid or something for your hand? That could get infected. That'd be nasty," Pete said.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

You Beat Us Black And Blue.
We're Coming Back To Fight You!

[/color]

[/b] She told him sadly. Well she used to be able to write like no one she had ever met before, lyrics and music were like blood. "I poisoned it...with all the shit I take." Truth hurt sometimes but it needed to be said.

Smiling she looked at him, "I used to have bad insomnia. Then I got high so I didn't really notice it." She stopped and looked at the ground and back up again. "I just realized how much of my life revolves around drugs...." Well done Sherlock. A gentle sigh as she looked idly at the sky. "That sounds immense." She wondered if that was what it was like to be with people who were your friends and those who truly cared. "Ah they sound very...whats the world...mental." She stated flatly. Yes they sounded insane.

Brodie took one last look at the tombstone, reaching out she touched the stone, feeling the strange powder on her fingers from where they had etched in to it. Standing up she looked at it then gave Pete a small smile, looking down at her hand she nodded - getting it checked out would be a good idea. "Yeah...and food. I need food...got the munchies." Fucking downers. [/size][/ul][/color][/blockquote]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete said. "Mine used to be pills, but I'm kinda hoping that I have a person I can rely on, y'know?" Pete asked, walking backwards now, feeling happier. "I don't even think he knows who he is, and I never really tell him how much he means to me - I know I should, but I wish he knew anyway," Pete said, turning around. "Relying on a person is fine, it's dependancy on a person that starts to get concerning, even more so when it's reliance or dependancy on a pill. You just need to find that person, Brodie, the person who's your drug," Pete told her. He saw Charlie at the gates and walked up to him, smiling at the man and then looking at Brodie. "Charlie, this is Brodie, she's going to be staying for a while," Pete said, looking around at her. "Did you get the food?" Pete asked, and he looked around at Brodie.
"We have food in the bus, I'll take you over to the first aid tent," Pete said, walking through the parking lot toward the fields again where the tents were, Charlie in tow, and Brodie too, hopefully. Pete sighed slightly, feeling the cool air on his cheeks. He knew people would want to know what had happened that night in the Graveyard, but Pete had a feeling he'd never tell, he'd never let on about Brodie's break down. He wouldn't say a word unless she did - it wasn't cool having someone else call you out on something like that. Pete spotted the first aid tent, seeing the red cross and heading toward it.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

Empty Hearts And Winter Riots Hopeless Blue.
Ideas For Falling, Why Don't You Just Hold On?

[/b] She told him truthfully. "Your not as much as an idiot as you look." She said with a grin as she felt herself tremble slightly. She was starting to feel that horrible sensation, as if her blood itself was beginning to itch.

She knew it was only time before she caved in again, she didn't want to. God she never wanted to see another pill in her life. She never wanted to touch that burning liquid again. She never wanted to see any of it again. She felt sick thinking about it.

"I think he already knows how much you think of him." Brodie commented. "People pick up on those things...well most of them do. There's an unspoken bond." And with that the subject was done. She had said her piece even if he hadn't asked for it.

She smiled at Charlie and followed Pete to the First Aid Tent. She didn't have to say anything. Everyone knew who she was, all she did was pull her hand out her pocket and show it to the First Aider who gave her a look of utter stupidity and sat her down. Brodie looked over at Pete and just simply said; "Thanks you know...for not letting me...I can be a stupid bitch sometimes." [/size][/color][/blockquote][/ul]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete smirked, looking around at her. "It's alright, I am an idiot," Pete grinned. "Just... I have a very good cover up for it," he nodded. First impressions were nearly always wrong ones, and that was probably good, because first impressions had a tendancy to be bad impressions. Pete continued walking, thinking over what Brodie had said about the person knowing exactly how special they were. Pete frowned and wondered for a second if said person did know, and Pete supposed in the back of his head he probably did. He would never really know. "Don't let my appearance betray you, Brodie, I really am an idiot... sometimes... we all are," Pete said. He pushed the tent flap open of the First Aid, at first the nurse glanced at him, and then she noticed Brodie and stepped forward to bandage the cut. It was only then Pete noticed that Charlie hadn't followed them inside.
"It's alright," Pete said, shaking his head. "We all have those moments," Pete told her, sitting down and looking around the tent. It smelt of antiseptic and ointments. It wasn't an unpleasant smell, but it was the kind of smell that made everyone in the world think back to the earliest and most painful memory of having some sort of wound that required an antiseptic to be put onto it. It was that sharp, unmistakable smell.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

Don't Make Me Leader I'll Get It Wrong.
Just Let Me Sing Sad Songs To Right All Their Wrongs.

[/b] She told him as the small of antiseptic hit her, she turned back and with out warning she felt the horrid smelling liquid touch her skin.

Oh holy shit. Why hadn't someone warned her?! "Holy shit!" Brodie gasped trying to pull back her hand out of shock as the first aider kept a tight hold on her wrist. "Fuck fuck fuck stop it!" She demanded trying to pull away. Brodie wasn't sure if she could remember the last time she had one of her injuries sorted properly. Usually she suffered with it - though with the shit she took she couldn't feel it anyway. "Ow! Damn it that hurts!" Her statements sounded almost childish, as if she had no idea it would have hurt.

The last time she remembered this happening was when she was twelve - in that foster home she adored so much. She had been playing in the street with the boy who lived next door. he was trying to teach her how to ride a bike and of course Brodie had fallen off and ended up with a nasty cut on her knee. God she had cried and cried when they put that foul smelling iodine on it, she would always remember the bright yellow stain it left on your skin.

Biting her lip she stopped fighting against it - though that was only after a sharp warning from the first aider. Eyes closed she tried to concentrate on something else...that wasn't about drugs. [/blockquote][/ul][/color][/size]