The Drug In Me (Ronnie Radke Love Story)

Bonus Chapter 16

****this is the final bonus chapter! I will be gone for a few days not updating, sorry loves. But this story is not ending, well it is but there will be a sequel following. Love y'all <3 ****

*Jacky*

I lay in the bed, still shocked that this had happened. I had been in here for 2 weeks. Ronnie had been in a coma for 4 months now. And now, I had joined him.

He was a few rooms down from me. Ryan and Max would take turns sitting in a room with Ronnie and me, switching a few times a day. They kept me informed with everything that happened with Ronnie, though there wasn't really any news. It was always the same thing. He was still unconscious. He was still in a coma.

When would he wake up? Would be wake up? If he didn't soon, I fear he'd be lost forever.

Why had pal done this? What did he have against me? Had he only befriended me, only been nice to me so he could get close enough to be able to hurt me?

I had nothing to do in the hospital but think. So I thought, thought about everything, thought about nothing. I thought about all of my conversations with pal, going through them in my head.

They seemed normal, nothing out of the ordinary. But then, the more I went over them the more I realized that pal was off, peculiar, unsettling now. All his smirks, his strange laughs, the glint in his eyes. The strange comments he said, the way he talked about his dead girlfriend.

He made it seem like she died multiple times, said things like 'where she first died' and such. How had I not realized how strange it was? It all unsettled me now.

Who was his dead girlfriend? Was she even dead?

I gasped, my body tensing up as a thought came to mind.

Was his girlfriend, could it be Ryker? Could he be the one who hurt Ryker?

Oh my god, all those times he said he went to visit her, could it be that he was going to where he had hidden her? C-could it be?

When he said that he was going to where she had first died, did that mean he was going to torture her, beat her?

Where had she first died? Wouldn't she have died in juvy or prison? But it would have been too difficult to visit there. So then where?

He told me that she had fallen in the woods and hit her head on a rock. Now, I guessed that he had hit her over the head with a rock. Or pushed her, shoved her so that she fell.

Was she hidden in the woods then? Was there some sort of a shed or a shack far in the woods, where Ryker was locked up and kept prisoner?

Where was she?

I wanted to scream at the thought. All that time, could I have been close to the one who hurt Ryker? Could I have been so near to the man who hit Ronnie with a car? Could I have been talking to, leaning on, seeking support from the very man who had caused my anguish?

I heard a commotion from outside. I sat up, curious. The hospital was so boring, nothing ever happened. So what was all this yelling and talking outside the door?

"She's just come in!"

"Oh the poor thing, what do you think had happened?"

"The poor girl, she's in mighty bad shape"

"I wonder what has happened to her?"

"I wonder how long she's gone through it"

"Through what?"

"Why abuse of course. Look at her, the poor thing just screams abuse"

"You reckon she's been abused?"

"Yeah, for quite a long time too"

"The poor dear, lets get her in the room and see how we can help"

The nurses were loud and concerned.

Girl. Abuse. Bad shape.

I had a horrid feeling....

I pressed the nurse alarm thing and began to get out of bed, trying to stand on shaky feet. My leg was tied up in a cast, my arm in a brace, and my ribs wrapped in gauze.

I fought and struggled until the nurses agreed to let me go to Rykers room. I just knew it was her.

They got me in a wheelchair and wheeled me out into the hall and down to her room.

They opened the door and wheeled me inside, telling me to press the help button on Ryker's bed when I wanted or needed anything.

She was asleep, or unconscious, or something. Her left eye was swollen shut, a large gash across it. There was a gaping cut in her right temple. Bruises and cuts and scars and scabs covered her body. One of her hands was hanging off the bed limply, and there was patches covering her wrists, already soaked in blood.

I wheeled myself over to the chair and pulled myself onto the chair, staring at her.

What had he done to her?