The Drug In Me (Ronnie Radke Love Story)

Decision

I lay there all day, trying not to look at the pictures but ending up looking at them anyways, having a panic attack, flipping shit, throwing myself against the walls, passing out, and then repeating it all over again.

It's been 3 days since He showed them to me, and He keeps bringing me more copies of the pictures because I keep ripping them and tearing them to shreds. I couldn't handle seeing them, I started to freak out. I would cry and scream and rip them and pull at my hair and my eyes and just cry, fucking cry.

And He fucking loved it. He would grin and laugh and watch as I lost it, going crazy.

He also gave me an article from some news blog thing. It was called "Falling In Reverse-falling victim to psychotic ex-convict." And it was all about how both Ronnie and Jacky had been attacked by me, and how I had supposedly killed Ronnie and attempted to kill Jacky. It ended with "Which member is next?"

I couldn't believe it. They thought that I killed Ronnie-me! I loved Ronnie! I would never hurt him, that whole time I was trying to protect him damnit! And now they think I'm on a rampage going after the remaining members of the band, and that I already got to Jacky too?

The media hates me.

I hope some people know it wasn't me. Ronnie knows, but I don't think he could tell anyone, otherwise why would people say he was dead? He-he couldn't be. He must be in a coma, or maybe it was an old article or something! And yet, a part of me felt that he was truly dead...

And Jacky must know that it wasn't me either, he must know that it was Him. But, the others, Ron and Ryan, did they know? Or did they think it was me?

I haven't tried to attack Him again. Im biding my time. Conserving my energy. Saving it all up for a huge attack. But what? And how? And when? I didn't have much time left. And if I did it He would just hurt other people and blame it on me. And it would be my fault...

I needed to find a way out. Soon, before it's too late, before I'm too far gone.

Of course, the pictures keep distracting me from my mission. I see Jacky's cut up face, his broken-looking arm, his swelled shut eyes, and I cry.

It hurts me to see them like this. The worst part is, I know that I caused it. I fucking caused it. I caused Ronnie's possible death, I caused Jacky to get hurt, I caused all of it.

Fucking hell, why did I have to drag them into it? Why couldn't I have just walked away? Then they would be safe, happy, alive! Not broken and beat up, not living with the threat that He could hurt them at any moment.

I look at Ronnie's beat up face and broken body, and it breaks my heart. Warm tears trickle down my cheeks and I bite my lip so hard it bleeds. I try to hold in the sobs but they always burst out anyways.

His face was so cut up, and his body was so limp, laying at an unnatural angle. It was horrifying. And I kept reliving that night over and over, trying to change how it happened. But no matter what, I always managed to stumble into the road and get him killed. Then He would take me. I couldn't change it, but oh how I tried!

Looking at him so broken, I realized something. Is this how it felt for him to see me come back like that every night? Is this what it was like for him everyday, to have to watch me let this happen, and not being able to do anything? Is this how it felt to watch me come back every morning with new bruises, new cuts, new gashes, new wounds? Is this what if felt like for him to watch the damage get worse and worse every day?

I pushed him away so much. I only let him close a couple times. Yet he still managed to somehow get close and dig deep inside me, living in my veins, flowing with my blood even with all my attempts to push him away.

It was heartbreaking.

I wanted to cry. So I did. I wanted to scream. So I did. I wanted to claw at myself and break my skin. So I did. I wanted to escape. So I looked for a way, thought of ways, tried to find a way. But I just don't fucking know!

The rocks are stuck deep inside the dirt, I couldn't get them out without considerable effort that would take up way more energy than I had.

God damnit! All there was in here was the goddamn swinging lightbulb that hardly lit up-! The light bulb!

I could use the lightbulb-I could break the coil that it was hanging on from the ceiling and tie it around His neck, choke Him maybe?!! I could break the lightbulb and cut Him with the glass. And it would be dark so He wouldn't know where I was cause I was barefoot, and I would know where He was thanks to His heeled cowboy boots!

It would be dark and I would have weapons so maybe I'd have a chance!

Maybe I could really do it!

Maybe I could really escape!

I got to shaky feet and reached for the flickering light.