Title: Trashed and Scattered
Pairing: Ronnie Radke/Craig Mabbit; Ronnie Radke/OMC Bryan Money/Robert Ortiz; Bryan Money/Omar Espinoza; Max Green/OFC
Summary: At the worst possible moment, everything comes crashing down on Ronnie. What innocence he had left is ripped from him, a stranger haunting him begining to break him down-and the only person who can piece him back together is someone he vowed to hate forever.
Rating: R (for now)
Warnings: non-con, abuse, substance abuse, self-harm, homophobia, language
Disclaimer: The events portrayed herein are fictional and bear little if any resemblance to real life.
A/N: This story is un-beta'd, and probably will continue to be un-beta'd. If you tend to nitpick about little errors, you probably don't want to read.
002: Saint Jacky
003: Friends With Alibis
004: Are You Still Dying, Darling?
005: Rain Over Me
When Ronnie’s eyes finally opened, the sun had gone down but the rain was still failing steady outside his bedroom window. He was still on his stomach but his comforter had been pulled to his shoulders and he could hear noise downstairs.
He sat up and looked around his room. Who the hell was downstairs? Probably Tyler, he thought to himself, sitting back on his knees. His back cracked and he bit back a groan at the pain that went through his muscles.
But Tyler had already left, he tried reasoning with himself. Yeah, maybe he came to just kill you and get it over with.
The thought made his stomach hurt and he moved to sit on the side of his bed. He stood, stretching his back until it popped again and moving to his dresser, opening the drawers until he found an older pair of pajama pants, clean boxers and a tee shirt.
He moved to the bathroom, trying to avoid whoever was downstairs for as long as possible. If it was one of his friends, someone probably saw him bleeding when they covered him up; if it was his dad, he most definitely saw, and if it was Tyler…well, he didn’t want to think about what would happen if it was Tyler.
He turned on the shower and climbed in immediately, water hitting his skin like hot bullets. He scrubbed until his skin was raw again, biting his lip when he rubbed one of the bruises too hard and when he washed off the blood from his legs. It stuck to his skin this time and his skin was redder than before.
When he finally managed to free himself from the shower-after his water had gone cold, that is-he dressed quickly, returning to his room only to grab a sweater. Once he’d pulled it on he headed downstairs slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible.
He dipped his head down, frowning when he saw Jacky’s eyes peaking from his kitchen at him. “Did you go grocery shopping at all?”
Ronnie frowned. He hadn’t; he’d spent the afternoon walking around the mall, crying in Craig’s arms and getting raped. “Uh…no?”
Jacky nodded. “Thought so. Come in here. I brought you dinner.”
Ronnie nodded back, following him back into the kitchen. The “dinner” he’d brought was pizza, but it was food nonetheless; Ronnie hadn’t eaten anything since noon the day before.
Jacky’d set a plate out for him on the counter. “I went to my parents’ for dinner. One of my cousins had some big recital or something. I snatched a couple of boxes of cheese and some other stuff; they’re all in your fridge. I guess you can survive on that until you can get to the store.”
Ronnie nodded as Jacky picked up the plate and motioned him to follow him into the living room. He did so without questioning, letting the other man to lead him to the couch and push him down gently.
Jacky set the plate on the coffee table, grabbing Ronnie’s chin. He cringed as his friend turned his head from side to side, eyeing the bruises that sat at the corners of his mouth, on his left cheek, on his forehead and on his chin.
“What’re you looking at?” Ronnie’s voice was quiet, sounding innocently curious to Jacky. The other man raised a brow, unconvinced.
“Your face. What the hell happened? You look like you’ve been sucking face with an abuse vacuum cleaner.
Ronnie frowned and tried to lean away from Jacky’s touch. When his mind couldn‘t form a better excuse he settled on, “I got jumped while I was out.”
Jacky pulled his hand back, stood up and crossing his arms. “Was this before or after you ran into your old friends at the mall?” Ronnie opened his mouth but Jacky held up a hand, waving his words off. “I have Bryan’s phone number, remember? When we ran into him at the bar. He said you were outside with Craig for quite a while.”
Ronnie frowned, looking down at his knee with a sigh. “Yeah, I kind of was.”
“Two hours crying in a grown man’s arms is not a “kind of was” situation, Radke.” Jacky scolded him. Suddenly, even though he was both taller and older, Ronnie felt like he was in kindergarten again, his mom yelling at him for messing with finger paints on the carpet. He pulled his knees up and let Jacky grab his arm, pushing back his sleeves.
“What’re you looking at?”
“I’m looking for track marks. Jesus Christ, did King Kong jerk you around or something? Your fucking arms are banged up all to hell.”
Ronnie gulped, ignoring the remark about track marks, even though his body suddenly ached for a drug he hadn’t touched in a year and a half. “No. I kept trying to get away. They were bigger than me. Every time I got one arm free someone grabbed another.”
Jacky pressed his fingers to one. When Ronnie whined, he let his arm go. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, man.” He shook his head, letting Ronnie’s wrists go and leaning back on his knees. “You’ve just not had much luck this week, have you?”
"I guess not." Ronnie's voice was soft and he returned his gave to his knees, picking at a loose thread on his pants. Jacky didn’t respond, shaking his head and moving back to the kitchen. Ronnie watched him follow before laying his head back on his knees.
When Jacky came back into the living room he let out an annoyed sigh. “Are you going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.” Ronnie lied, hugging his stomach tighter in an attempt to muffle its constant grumbles and whines. Jacky huffed before setting a glass of water on the table next to Ronnie and crossing his arms. “Either you eat or I’m taking you to the hospital and we’ll find out what really happened.”
Ronnie’s head snapped up and he put his feet on the floor. “What the fuck do you mean “What really happened”? I told you what happened.”
Jacky clenched his fists and Ronnie leaned away from them, cringing as the other man snapped. “You think I believe anything that comes out of your mouth right now? You were sick earlier this week. You hardly had any food in your cabinets on Sunday, you were supposed to buy food today but you didn’t, you look like death warmed over. I’m not fooled, Radke, no matter who else is.”
Ronnie didn’t answer, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest. He knew better than to argue with Jacky but his “Give a shit” button had, apparently, broke. “I’m not eating, and I’m not fucking going anywhere with you.”
Jacky’s frown deepened, mouth tightening into a thin line. Jacky threw his hands up, huffing. “Fine, guess I’ll have to drag you.” Before Ronnie could protest, Jacky reached down and grabbed his elbows, jerking him to his feet.
Ronnie tried to pull away, Jacky gripping his bruised arms almost as hard as Tyler had. Jacky just squeezed harder, managing to drag him to the bottom of the stairs before Ronnie finally managed to snap out, “Let me the fuck go!”
“Fine!” Jacky released Ronnie’s elbows but immediately slammed his palms into his chest. Ronnie fell against the wall, hitting his head. Jacky ignored him, storming to the door and muttering curses under his breath.
Ronnie waited for the door to close and Jacky’s headlights to turn on and pull out of the driveway before he breathed. It came out as a choked sob, knees giving out under him as he slid down the wall until he could sit. He covered his face with his hands, sobbing into them. Why the hell can’t I just keep my stupid mouth shut?
Ronnie didn’t sleep in his bed, choosing instead to move to the spare bedroom. He’d intended it as a guest room originally, but it hadn’t gotten farther than being where he kept junk he didn’t know where else to put, a couple of guitars and two mattresses. He took his comforter with him, tossing the sheets and his clothes into the corner of the room.
He was awakened by fingers pushing the hair from his face, someone shaking him and saying his name, telling him to wake up. He groaned and reached a blind hand out, swatting at them, trying to bury himself deeper into his blankets.
The person shaking him didn’t stop, though, and he finally forced his eyes open to look up. His vision was blurred, eyes feeling sticky from having cried the night before, and his mind registered the person standing over him as Tyler.
He blinked a few times, vision clearing as the person spoke to him, “You okay? You look like shit. Jacky said you told him you’d got jumped, but…fuck, that looks like it hurt.”
Ronnie’s vision cleared enough for him to see who was touching his face. He laid his hand on theirs, furrowing his brow as he tried to sit up. “Craig, what’re you doing here?”
“Whoa, slow down. You look like you’re gonna be sick.” Craig slid his arms around Ronnie, helping him sit up against the wall. “Its 11 in the morning. You didn’t eat last night, did you?”
Ronnie shook his head, hugging his stomach. “Jacky brought me something but I didn’t eat it. I wasn’t hungry.” Craig shook his head, sighing.
“You hungry now?”
“Kind of.” Ronnie knew he sounded pitiful but he couldn’t help it; with Craig that close, eyeing his fresh bruises, he didn’t feel like talking about Jacky. Still, he knew the other man was probably the reason Craig was there.
“Well, c’mon. I brought you some food.” Craig held out his hands, helping Ronnie to his feet and keeping him steady as they headed to the living room.
Ronnie forced his attention off Craig‘s hand. “How’d you get in?”
“Jacky called me last night and told me what happened. He was pissed.” Craig led Ronnie to his living room, pulling him to the couch. “Did he bruise your chest? He said he pushed you pretty hard.”
Ronnie shook his head, then shrugged as he looked over the food. Craig had gone to Denny’s, and the plastic container with Ronnie’s name on it had pancakes, bacon and eggs-not that Ronnie liked eggs, but his stomach growled so much it hurt. The food smelled good and Craig had picked up two cartons of orange juice-probably from 711.
The other man took a seat next to the couch, gesturing to the couch. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
“Do we have to?” Ronnie frowned, crossing his arms across his chest. He didn’t move to sit and Craig leaned back from his food, crossing his arms.
“Well, we can do it this way. We can talk about what’s going on with you right now, or I can stay here for the day, and tail you where ever you go, and make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” He replied matter-of-factly. “And just so you know? I’m not like Jacky. I’m not going to leave at the first sign of resistance.”
Ronnie frowned, but threw his hands up. “Fine.” He moved to the couch, not looking forward to the talk.
“Good. Now, wanna explain how you really got those bruises?” Craig asked. Ronnie looked at the food in front of him, then nodded. He wasn’t going to tell Craig the truth; that didn’t mean he had to lie completely, though…