Tragic Magic (Ronnie Radke Love Story) [Book 2-sequel to The Drug In Me]

95. Becoming Closer

**** Hey guys, I'm writing this on a laptop instead of my iPod so I don't know exactly how it will turn out differently with spacing and such. But lets hope it's okay :)

my basement is flooding so sorry it took so long to update today. I hope you enjoy anyhow ****

*Ryker*

I had been with Nikki for a week now, sticking with her and getting her to trust me. She had moved in with me; it hadn't even been discussed, we just mutually agreed without having to talk about it.

She insisted on sleeping on the couch at first, but we always ended up both sleeping in the bed, holding on to each others hands or arms to assure ourselves that the other was still here. So there was no point in starting out separately because by the time morning turned to night, we would be sleeping together in the bed.

We had grown very close; it seemed like there was an invisible rope tied to the both of us, and whenever we were close we were pulled to each other. We just made sense as friends; we belonged by each other's sides. She confided in me, and I considered confiding in her. I told her some things, not everything, but just about my family and going to jail.

It had only been a week but already I felt as if she was my sister. She was more of a sister than my real sisters. She helped me even if she didn't know it, and I'd like to think that I helped her too.

She reminded me of Luna and Echo, she was like a mix of the two plus her very own spunk. I missed them dearly, but I knew I could never see them again. If only I could, I know they would love Nikki and would all get along so well. If only.....

Nikki was like a little duckling, and I was a duck that took her under my wing, adopting her into my family as if she was mine. She trusted only me, no one else.

It might seem a bit rude, but we didn't really talk to any of the other girls, we just stuck to ourselves. It made sense, we knew that they didn't really care about us, while we on the other hand, cared greatly for each other.

After the first few days she finally started to talk to me, really talk. She told me a bit about her past, confiding in me and silently asking for my support with her pleading, shaking eyes. She told me about what she had gone through and what brought her here, and I listened intently, holding her hand and squeezing it comfortingly, hugging her close to me.

She was so little, she fit perfectly into my arms, her head just reaching my shoulders. And when she was clutching to me like her life depended on it, that empty, gaping hole inside me closed up a bit, got smaller, and I didn't feel so empty or alone.

She told me that she had started doing drugs when she was 14. She experimented with marijuana and the lighter stuff before getting into the heavier stuff, and now, well, of all things, she was doing heroin. Not as heavily as me thank hell, but still, the thought of her doing it at all made my heart hurt for her.

But who would I be to tell her not to do drugs, I was the poster-child of bad decisions, all drugs and alcohol and all that shit. I had gone right past the supposed 'heroin chic' look and went straight to the drug addicted wreck. My body was thin from lack of sufficient food, my arms were scarred from cuts and needles, and my eyes were surrounded by dark circles, the skin looking sunken and hollow. There was nothing chic or cool about doing drugs, it was shit. Drugs were shit, and life with drugs was shit. Basically everything was shit.

I did steal a syringe from a hospital to give it to her so she would at least have a clean, safe needle. I didn't want to worry about her getting a bad disease from using a dirty, faulty needle. It was surprisingly easy to steal it from the hospital. But honestly that's probably more because we were in Las Vegas and the nurses were running to and fro with all the dangerously drunk people and crazy accidents so I could easily slip in and out without getting noticed much, and less because I was a stunning thief-I was, but that's not the only reason.

She saw my scarred wrist and the marks on my forearm and admitted to me that she had self harmed in the past, for 3 years, but that she was clean now. I made her promise that she would come to me rather than relapse and she made me promise the same. We looked out for each other, it was how we were. Life didn't feel so bleak and empty with her near me.

I asked her about how she had ended up at the Lunar Goddess, and how she became a dancer at all, and she gave me a look that simultaneously told me to hug her and fuck off. I let it go for a bit, but after a few days, I got her to tell me.

It was horrible, I wanted to hold her safe in my arms and never let her go. I didn't want her to go through anything horrific again, I just wanted her to be safe and happy, and I would always be by her side to help her in any way.

Her parents were divorced, and so she saw her grandfather frequently while her parents were dealing with the divorce and going to court and agreeing on terms.

Only her grandfather was less of a grandpa and more of a disgusting, creepy pig that I would love to come across in a dark alley so I could beat his face in and shove his head in a sewer and-

Okay calm down, you can't be like that, it could scare Nikki. Breathe, just breathe....

Her grandfather molested her, sexually assaulting her. Now, of course, nobody should ever sexually assault anyone, but come on, of all people, her grandfather? He was fucking related to her! I mean he is her grandfather, her parents are his kids, she is his granddaughter, how could he possibly do that to her? He was all sorts of fucked up.

There's 2 types of fucked up people-people, like me, who are fucked up because of what they've gone through, and the people who fuck others up and are just messed up, there's obviously something wrong with their minds because they are truly horrid people. The second kind of fucked up, they're the ones who make the first type fucked up.

Sometimes, the people who have fucked up things done to them grow up to become the ones who fuck other people up, it's like a cycle, it's horrifying to even think of. I would never become like that, I wouldn't let myself......

So Nikki had to deal with her grandfather being sexually attracted to her, very forcefully showing it for years, without saying a word. She was scared, of course, just as anyone who is sexually assaulted, especially ones who are chronic victims and have it happen to them long-term, by someone close to them. It was a horrifying thing to go through.

But one night, her grandfather went farther than before, trying to rape her, and she finally ran away. She fled from her house and left her house and 'family' behind.

She went to her friend for help, and her friend knew Diablo, somehow not knowing what a prick he was. So she sent Nikki his way, and well, now she was here.

I can't say I'm glad that shes here, because that would just be cruel, but I was glad that she was at this night club rather than another, because at least I was here to protect her and, well, care about her. I can't say I'm glad that she was working here, because that would be selfish, but I am glad that she came into my life, because I honestly don't know how I could have made it without her.

She was all I had now...