Coming Home (A Ricky Wilson Fanfic)

Chapter 7.

"I knew you could do it! I'm so proud of you!" Ben sure sounded excited. The second I got onto the train to London, well, after I did something to make me not sweat and shake anymore, I called him up. He was the only one I was going to share this adventure with. Not that I had anyone else to talk to anyway. "James, who did you choose?" Ben asked me once he calmed down a bit. "Boy George," I answered, "He is the one I know the most about. It didn't seem right to pick a coach I've never heard of before you schooled me." Ben laughed, "I'll teach you more someday. Just come home and you can tell me everything." I hung up the phone after saying goodbye and put it in my bag. I stared out the window and knew that from now on, everything was going to change. I just hoped it was for the good.

After a long journey, I stood in front of my apartment and sighed. I knew this wasn't a great idea, but I had nowhere else to go. I needed a roof over my head and I was not going to bother Ben with my troubles. I walked towards the front door and grabbed my keys. I opened the door and it was like I had gone blind. The apartment was pitch black. I closed the door behind me and put my bag and guitar case down. I walked around the corner further into the living room which, in a corner, was dimly lit. Even if I wanted to take more steps, I don't think my legs would've cooperated. Dean sat on the couch with a terrifying look in his eyes. Around him lay ten bottles of beer and a bottle of vodka. He stared at me but didn't say a word. After a few minutes of silence, he finally found his voice. "Where have you been thís time?" he asked obviously trying, but failing, to keep his calm. I kept quiet, not wanting to make him madder. He gritted his teeth in frustration. "Where have you been?" he repeated, "You better start talking real soon." I opened my mouth, but I couldn't speak. I looked down at my converses and knew this wasn't going to end well.

Suddenly he stood up and with four giant steps he stood in front of me. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He grabbed my throat and pushed me against the wall. "Dean, p-please," I managed to croak. "Where the fuck have you been J.?!" Dean yelled, saliva splattering in my face. "I... I-I've been..." "You've been what?!" Dean shouted, "Always the same fucking story, isn't it! You pathetic excuse for a woman! Leaving her man whenever she wants, not bothering to tell where she's going!" The look in Dean's eyes said it all. There was no point in trying to reason with him. He was blinded by fury. Suddenly his grip loosened and I saw his fist coming right for me. Before I fully processed the hit, his other fist crashed into my eye and I hit the ground. I tried to look up, but all I saw was the blurry image of Dean standing over me. "This is going to be the last time I'm going to let you get away with it!" He barked. At that moment, his boot hit my ribs. I didn't even try to defend myself as Dean grabbed my hair and pulled me up to meet his eyes. "Don't you dare forget who got your sorry ass out of that shithole in Leeds." He let go of my hair and I fell to the ground. I heard Dean slamming the front door shut. All I could do was lay still and think about the pathetic person I had become over these last few years. I felt my eyelids getting heavy as the room became even darker. "Fuck you, Dean," I muttered as my consciousness slowly faded.