The Drug In Me (Ronnie Radke Love Story)

Sneaking Away

*^^^another picture to show the wounds on Ryker. Sorry guys, just figured visual demonstration would help you see how bad she is, cause I'm not too sure about going into extensive detail about the beatings and stuff. Naturally, Ryker relives them most all the time, but she wouldn't talk about them much to herself, that's why I don't do too much of the beatings, or at least try not to*

I had snuck out of Ronnie's arms later that night, put on my shoes, and snuck out.

The day went too fast, and soon I was leaving the merch tent, heading out.

Out to meet my brutal fate.

This time, when He was done, I got dressed as soon as I couldn't see Him anymore. I don't know if He stayed close and watched me, taking pleasure in staring at me silently crying, broken and naked on the ground, but I only hoped he didn't stay long.

I had stood stiffly and walked back, hissing and flinching at every step. When would all this brutality end? When would I be safe again? In death? Never?

At least He hadn't gone after Ronnie, that much I could be thankful for, though I didn't have much else to be thankful for besides that.

Should I be thankful I am still alive, or perhaps I would be more thankful if he finally killed me rather than prolonging this endless torture.

I walked back to the buses quietly. It was maybe 2, 3, or maybe 4 in the morning? I had left at 8 at night. I wasn't sure how long he had kept me for - it felt like forever, but it could have been only hours, I don't really know.

I bit my lip hard; biting hard enough to draw blood made me smile, because it was me causing it, not someone else. I was in control of it, and it was really the only control I had over myself nowadays.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice the figure leaning against the bus, until they spoke.

"Again" he said, once again not really a question. I jumped and clutched my heart, freaked out and surprised.

"Shit Ronnie" I said, gasping and stumbling backwards.

"Yeah shit is right, you're even more hurt, now come on, let me see how much worse it is" he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the bus.

I hissed in pain, and Ronnie gave me a pained expression, mouthing "sorry" to me as we slinked our way through the bus.

Everyone else was asleep, I guessed, and so I had to be sure that I didn't gasp or squeak or whimper no matter how much pain I was in. I bit my lip hard to keep the sound down.

It seemed that this was becoming a thing, Ronnie cleaning my face up after a beating. It was strange and horrifying, but still, repressed excitement gnawed at my stomach as he stood close, caring for my wounds.

I foolishly let my mind wander, imagining a time where I didn't have any baggage and me and Ronnie could be flirty and carefree teasing like the beginning of warped tour - but it's not like that, and I can't, so there's no use in wishing about it!

Yet still, my mind fantasized extravagant romances, exciting and passionate, vivid and illustrious.

"Shit, this person really loves fucking up your eye" Ronnie said softly, probably more to himself than me; I, of course, already knew this, so there was no reason he would be telling me.

I flinched and clenched my hands, digging my nails into my skin, biting my lip, digging the back of my head into the edge of the mirror, anything to keep from crying out as he dabbed my face.

"Ronnie," I started to ask, suddenly curious to hear his answer.

"Hmm" he said, concentrating on cleaning the split skin near my eye. I flinched again, this time whimpering, though very quietly.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, darting my eyes from his face, then away, then back at his face.

"Cleaning your face?" Ronnie asked, pulling away from my face to look at me. I nodded softly, shrugging my shoulders, trying to make myself smaller under his gaze. "Because, you need it" he said simply, going back to cleaning the gash.

"Oh" I said, not sure why I was disappointed.

What, was I expecting some romantic, heartfelt response? Psh, yeah right, get your head out of the clouds fool! No one loves you except a violent, sociopathic asshole! You're just an ugly girl who deserves to get hurt, hell, He doesn't beat you enough! You deserve more! More! More!

My mind screamed at me, yelling brutal truths, and my eyes pricked with tears. I felt a hard pressure on my face, and a pinch, and I jumped, bashed my head against the corner of the mirror, and shook.

My vision blurred, though from the tears or the pain, I couldn't tell. "Sorry, it was kinda deep so I put a butterfly bandaid on it" Ronnie explained, taking a hand and squeezing mine, bringing my hand away from clenching the others. Nail marks were dug into my skin, leaving angry red lines.

I hadn't even noticed.

"What, did you want to admit that I like you and hate that you won't let me help you? You've made your feelings for me clear, and you won't let me help you" he said, frowning.

"I-I can't" I said, feeling panic setting in.

"I know, we'll talk about it later. It's 5 am, but hey, lets just go back to bed okay?" he said, scooping my legs up and carrying me back to his bed. He put me down softly and we laid down.

This time he didn't hold me, instead sitting up. I got the feeling that he was staring down at me. I was hesitant to move, scared of the pain, but eventually I curled into myself on my side, and fell into a sleep-like daydream.

I heard a creak, and Ronnie conversing with someone. I picked up only one part of it.

"It's getting worse."