Saturday, January fifth, 2:39 A.M…

I fell asleep on the backseat at some point. I was so worn out and the agony had washed over my brain like a violent storm. The waves ravaged my thoughts and sent me over the edge and into a whirlpool of emotions.

When I awoke, Ricky had opened the door to the left side of the van. I felt his hands brush my waist and unclick my seatbelt. It slid off of me and hissed quietly as the belt retracted.

“Wake up, darling. We’re safe now.” He stroked my cheek. As I slowly inhaled, my eyes fluttered open. The dark surroundings flooded my vision. It had to be about two thirty in the morning, no later than that. The stars were still bright orbs in the sky. Ricky shook my shoulder slightly.

“Okay, I’m coming.” I yawned lazily. Standing up, I gently moved myself out of the car. As soon as I stepped down, I nearly collapsed on the cement. My ankle felt like it was consumed with hellfire. Ricky caught me before I could completely collapse. He gently pulled me up and I lifted my ankle off the ground, wincing slightly.

“Your ankle.”

“Yeah. And my wrist.” I complained. Both the left wrist and ankle were sore. Ricky gently scooped me up and carried me to the front door. I reached out and opened it from the cradle of his arms. The lights were off, but he had no problem traversing his house. The man had memorized every step it took to get me to the living room. Ricky set me down on the couch before standing back up.

“Thank you, sir.” I murmured, not even really thinking about it. All I could think about was the dulling pain ripping through my side.

“Please, don’t call me ‘sir’ or ‘Master’.” He whispered sadly. I searched for his eyes in the darkness. He wasn’t there. A moment later, the lights flickered to life and I blinked quickly against the lights suddenly turning on. I reached up with my right hand and wiped at my eyes.

As I shut my eyes I saw the after images of the living room. There was a TV on the wall in front of me and some other chairs in the vast living room. A table was beside me. Down the hall was a kitchen and the room connecting to the living room was the master bedroom. Stairs ascended to a second story balcony and set of rooms. I didn’t know what was up there. I don’t think I could actually move up there in my current condition.

A hand touched my forehead, as if feeling for a temperature. I flinched away. “Sorry.” Ricky muttered. I sighed and opened my eyes. Ricky knelt next to me at the side of the couch where I was stretched out.

He silently stroked my cheek. I kept my eyes closed, just waiting out the pain. His other hand gently ran the tips of his fingers against my bare skin on my left arm. “Darling, I need to check your wrist, plus the scratches on your stomach.” He murmured to me.

“Please, don’t make it hurt.” I whimpered, opening my eyes to stare at him. His dark eyes saddened.

“I’ll try not to.” He responded and moved both hands to lightly pick up my left wrist. I flinched. His eyes flickered up to mine in worry. He turned over my arm and I made a little noise of pain. He moved my fingers, each in turn and I buried my face into the pillow beside me.

“I think your wrist is sprained.” He assessed. I sighed and glared up at him.

“No, really?” I responded sarcastically. He just grinned and did the same with my ankle. The guitarist came to the same conclusion. While he went to go find some ace bandages, I rolled up the corner of my shirt to look at the dried blood.

I was a twig. There was no meat on my bones. My ribs poked out. The scars littered my body like gum underneath a diner table. The burn marks had turned to white lumps. The blood was smeared against my chest, but the long scratching that I had acquired when I tripped and scrapped myself up was at least not bleeding.

I was ugly, disgusting, a horrifying mess. Tears rolled out of my eyes and I raised my one good hand to cover my eyes, tears leaking between my fingers. Soft footsteps echoed through the wooden halls. They stopped near me. I turned my face away from the man that had saved me.

“Rory, please look at me.” Ricky persuaded. I didn’t. His hands gently cupped my face and forced me to look at him. Before I could protest or even open my eyes, his lips pressed against mine, trapping me there. I was frozen against his will. He let me take a moment and realize what was happening before I melted into him. His tongue slid against my bottom lip, begging for entrance. I let him. What choice did I have? I submitted against him, letting him press harder against me, his tongue dancing with mine and dominating. Ricky’s thumbs gently stroked my eyelids, making me shiver. He released me from the bond and pressed his forehead against mine. I struggled to regain my breath from the experience.

“Why are you crying?” He whispered, his lips ghosting the corners of mine. I took my time to respond.

“No reason.” I murmured. His hands forcefully held my head as he crushed his lips against mine, gently biting my lower lip, making me hum happily and silently pleading for another make out session. When he released, I whined. His eyes met mine, a perfect eyebrow arching in suspicion.

“No, why were you crying? I want to help you, Orion, not hurt you.” He murmured. His hands cupping my face kept me from turning away. I closed my eyes instead. He brushed his lips against my cheek once again, letting me know there was a reward for telling the truth.

“I saw the wounds.” I eventually murmured. He froze for a moment, just lingering there.

“And?”

“I saw how ugly I looked.” I sighed. He pulled my face to look at him again. His eyes locked with mine as he shook his head, thumbs brushing my face tenderly.

“That’s not what I see. I see two beautiful blue eyes, and a magnificent smile, and a thin, gorgeous girl that just needs to eat more.” He murmured. I smiled a little.

“I do like pizza.” I giggled. He grinned and I matched his.

“That’s the smile I love.” He purred, kissing my cheek quickly before turning to his medical kit and wrapping my ankle and wrist softly. When he was done, he used a washcloth to wipe away the blood from my chest and put away his supplies.

“Are you hungry?” He asked. I nodded and carefully pushed myself up to sit. He squeezed my good hand lightly and went to the kitchen.

“It’s three in the morning. What do you want to eat?” He yelled back at me. I thought for a moment, my eyes scanning the surroundings, memorizing everything in his house.

“Food!” I complain to him. I hear him chuckle softly.

“Well, no duh!” He responds. There some rustling in the kitchen. Drawers pop open, a pantry reveals its tasty contents. My stomach growls in complaint so I lie back down and close my eyes. Ricky comes back five minutes later, hopping over the back of the couch to land at the far end at my feet. He pats my leg. I grin back at him.

“What do you want to do?” He asked. How does any human ever have this much energy at three in the freaking morning!?

“How are you so hyper? What drugs are you on?” I chuckle, starting to feel slightly at ease. Rick looks like an energetic puppy. I could scratch behind his ears and he would probably roll on his belly for a belly rub.

“I’m just really happy that you’re here. That’s why I’m so happy.” He laughed. I blushed, fiddling with the edge of my shirt to distract myself.

“You’re adorable.” I mumble and grin. He just looks pleased with himself. A spark lights up in his eyes and he jumps up, skidding across the floor to fall to his knees in front of the TV cabinet. He opens it and peers in to the dark cavern. Ricky reemerges with a game board in his hands. No, it wasn’t just a game board, it was one of those Connect Four games. I used to have one at my house….way back in Colorado…

“Wanna play?” He crawled up next to me. I stroked his hair lovingly.

“Can you sit still for it?” I smiled. He nodded, his eyes still wide and awaiting the word. I sighed and swung myself upright once more. Ricky sits on the opposite side of the coffee table and divides out the little checkers and puts the yellow stand upright so that we can let our little checkers fall down into their assorted spots. I fiddle with one checker while Ricky leans on the coffee table.

“You can go first.” He gestures softly. I smiled and let one fall down. We went back and forth, back and forth until we had a winner. Ricky whined as he saw that I beat him at his own game.

“I win.” I stuck my tongue out at him. He slid the little latch and let the pieces fall out again so we could start over. Half way through our second match, a timer went off.

“IT’S DONE!” Ricky cried out and bolted for the kitchen. I looked over the edge of the couch as he vaulted over it and skidded on slippery socks down to the shiny stove and stone sink. He disappeared around the corner and something clicked as what I assumed the oven was opened.

I waited on the couch, debating if I should move around some of Ricky’s pieces and mess with him. After a minute, I resolved to just sitting here in agonizing silence. Soft footsteps padded down the hall back towards me. Ricky was grinning as I turned around.

“Pizza’s up!” He grinned. I smiled and took a paper plate from him. I assumed that this was leftover pizza from Thursday night, but pizza was pizza and I was starved. I had two slightly greasy pieces perched on the white plate. Ricky sat back down across from me.

“Thanks, sir-I mean, Ricky.” I blushed. Ricky looked up at me with a mouthful of delicious cheese.

“No prob, dear.” He swallowed and grinned. We continued playing games until Ricky got tired of losing all the time and cleaned up our plates. I offered to take care of myself, but he didn’t want me walking on my bad leg, so he just got up and threw away the plates himself. When he came back, he turned off all the lights and lit up the TV.

We were curled up on the couch watching some movie. I think it was Fury. Ricky lay down on the couch with me curled up on his chest. His hands ran up and down my back, absentmindedly soothing my nerves. I nuzzled my head right under his chin, burying my face into his chest. Closing my eyes, I felt my mind drift as the explosions cannoned from the speakers.

“Darling, wake up.” Ricky cooed to me. My eyelids felt heavy. The credits were frozen on the screen. The lights were still off. I blinked lazily. Ricky had me in his arms, softly walking some place.

“What?” I murmured. Ricky chuckled, kissing my forehead and ducked into the master bedroom.

“You fell asleep at the end of the movie. You weren’t out long, but I think you should get to bed. It’s about three thirty in the morning. Rory, you need sleep. You’ll stay in my room since you can’t get up or down the stairs to the guest bedroom.” Ricky purred happily. I clung to his neck with one good arm. He set me down on the bed, pulling the covers up around me. I blinked against the harsh lights. Clothes were strewn across the floor and collected in a heap like a tornado shredded the closet and tossed the articles of clothing into a ragged pile in a corner. A desk was pushed into the corner and a chair had a jacket dangling from it. Books were shoved in a book case. Two electric guitars and an acoustic were propped up by the closet. It looked like a musician’s room. It was Ricky’s, pure and true. The walls were painted a grey-blue. A poster of the band hung in the corner by the door, all their faces seeming to haunt me.

I blinked as Ricky kissed my forehead, turning around to leave. He went to the lights, flicking them off as he opened the door.

“I’m upstairs if you need anything. Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he closed the door. I couldn’t help but stare at the poster, the last rays of light catching the angry faces on their. I shivered.

“N-night.” I stuttered long after he left. I turned around, curling up under the covers like a bear den. Anything to get away from the poster, from the memories. Soon enough, I was haunted by dreams.

A room. A room that is dark. A room with chains on the walls and whips everywhere. On the floor, blood. On the walls, blood. Everywhere, pain and blood. I can only feel the agony racing through my sprained limbs as Chris and Ryan walk in through a hidden door.

“Welcome back to Hell, Rory.” Ryan growls low in his throat. I gulp and feel like I want to cry out, but blood chokes my throat. I feel it dripping out of the corner of my mouth, but know I have yet to feel the biting whip. Chris stays silent, watching. Ryan approaches, taking chains from the wall. I turn to run, but there is nowhere.

I am trapped.

The chains slither around my ankles, they are the bad memories, they are my past. They wrap around my ankles, tripping me. They strangle my throat, taking my breath away. The bad memories, the past, are wrapping me up, they will never let me go.

Because bad memories never let anyone go. You can’t escape the past.

I cry out for someone to help me but can’t. I can’t get the words out. The whip bites back into my flesh, ripping it from my body. I see my bones exposed and cry out for help, but blood runs from my mouth to the floor. I am lost.

I want a safe haven. I want someone to take away the pain. I want Ricky, my escape. I want my safe haven, my only retreat.

The blood spills as the room goes even darker.

I want my safe haven.

I wake up gasping, still with the lingering feeling of stings and choking chains. I rip at the invisible fingers around my throat, my brain still screaming for a safe haven. I’m breathing heavily, wrapped up in the covers that had been holding me hostage.

“Rory?” Ricky’s at my side. I yelp as I push myself away from the sudden specter. I whimper as I fall back into the pillows, cradling my left wrist to my chest. I’m in my shorts that I had been wearing for the past day and the same loose shirt. Ricky grabs my shoulder.

“Orion! It’s just me.” He whispers. I sigh, calming my breathing down from the nightmare.

“A nightmare, just a nightmare.” I whisper. Ricky sits on the edge of the bed, the dark covers pressed down by his body. I see the faint outline of his body in the early morning light.

“Are you alright?” He questions quietly. I want to cry out, I want to bawl and say no, I’m not alright. I will never be alright again. I won’t ever be the same. But no, I don’t say that.

“I’m fine now.” I eventually say. Ricky seems to sigh, the tension going out of his body. He rubs my shoulder lightly. I see the dark shadows of his tattoos. He’s in a pair of shorts and is shirtless.

“I heard you gasping and yelling. Someone hurting you in your dream?” He asked, standing up. The lights turn on and I rub at my eyes. My hair must be a mess. I must be a mess. He looks around the room. I managed to screw up the sheets sufficiently. Ricky smiles.

“You’re a hell of a fighter. Who were you fighting?” He asked. I thought for a moment. His eyes locked on mine as he sat back down.

“Ryan.” I mutter and look down at my hand that’s bandaged up. I flashback to the hours ago when I was running through the field and the boys were chasing me, yelling at me to stop, as if I was going to listen to them.

Ricky’s eyes went distant for a moment, as if he was thinking about something or someone. The look went away after a second and he cupped my face, gently kissing the tip of my nose.

“He’s never going to hurt you again.” Ricky murmured sweetly. I sighed, feeling his cool breath roll over my skin.

“Chris was there to.”

“Was he?” Ricky murmured. I just nodded.

“But he wasn’t hurting me. He was just…there.” I whispered.

“He’s not going to hurt you anymore either. I might have to go back to bed. Tell me if you need anything.” Ricky sighed quietly, going deeper into thought and stood up. I caught his arm. His gentle eyes looked back at me.

“Please, can you stay tonight?” I whispered. The corners of his lips turned to a crooked smile that I adored.

“Of course, darling. There’s not much night left, but I’ll stay as long as you want.” He purred before turning out the lights. I felt him go to the opposite side of the bed and slide under the covers. His arms snaked around my waist, slowly pulling me towards him. I folded right into his side, head on his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat was like my own personal lullaby.

“Ricky, you’re cold. Do you need another blanket?” I whispered to him. There was no response, just his arms tightening around me. I waited a minute and nothing else. I reached up and touched his face. He flinched, coming back into reality.

“What?” He asked. I sighed, kissing his collarbone instead. He stroked my hair gently. “What?” He repeated.

“I asked if you were cold. What are you thinking about, Horror?” I questioned softly. He set his chin on top of my head, holding me even closer.

“Just some things that Chris said before I left for my vacation that I’m on right now.” He responded tiredly. I didn’t push it but my mind was whirling.

“What did he say?” I asked out of curiosity.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, darling. For now, go to sleep.” He shut off the conversation. Sleep stopped me from asking anything else. His hands rested on the small of my back as I closed my eyes and drifted off. The guitarist next to me was the only thing that kept the nightmares away.

Notes

Hello everyone! It's been a while since i've updated. With school and all, I think i'll be mostly updating on the weekends! I hope everyone had a good week so far!!! While you're reading, I hope you try saying this alliteration five times fast: he skidded on slippery socks down to the shiny stove and stone sink. That was in this chapter, if you didn't notice! :)

Anyways, please, please feel free to leave a comment! All your enthusiasm for the story and your votes and the comments really make my day! Thank you all so much for them and please don't hesitate to leave your thoughts down below! I love to hear them.

Thank you everyone!