Trace The Lines //Ronnie Radke x Female Reader//COMPLETED

//Readers POV//

The sun was shinning bright today. It felt like my depression was becoming less and less thick the more I walked the city. I didn't feel afraid of being without Ronnie for once. "Oh my gosh, You're (Y/N) Radke!" Two teenage girls dressed in Falling In Reverse merchandise approach me eagerly. "You're so pretty in person." Say the younger looking one. "Thank you." I smile pleasantly. It's very exciting that fans of my husbands music recognize me on the streets. "When is the baby due?" I try to keep from thinking about the possibility of Ronnie not being able to see the birth of our unborn son or daughter. "I have another month to go. I didn't want to reveal the gender until Ronnie was able to be there." I answer. "We hope he gets out soon. It doesn't really seem fair." The girls frown. "Im sure he'll be out and making music in no time." I reassure the girls and wave a goodbye after they requested a few photos. Im starting to really enjoy meeting fans. With time to spare, I go about the afternoon buying some items for the nursery. Unfortunately, the home Ronnie,Charlie and I share isn't big enough for the room. We had the plans to relocate to a more suitable house in California...suspended while he was incarcerated. 

Finally, home. Walking up to my front door, its cracked open and unlock. Maybe Andy and Juliet got home early from their outting and accidentally left the door open a bit. "Andy, Juliet! Im home!" Walking further into my dark home, two things catch my attention. Charlie doesn't come to the door when I get inside. Shit I think he got out..Ill have to track him. The box of things I held special from my  youth with Ronnie was lying near the staircase. "I dont remember putting you here.." Sitting my bag down, the box was empty. Looking around the living room, there was no trace of the letter, the rose, or the Polaroid image. My heart nearly stops upon entering the kitchen. Laid out on the butcher block was the image of Ronnie and I, Ronnies face torn and shredded with a knife protruding from it, the letter was ripped and torn apart and the rose frozen in time wan completely burnt to ash.

 "Doesn't that feel better?" I dont think Im living right now. Am I in a dream thats turning into a continues nightmare..? Turning slowly around, there he is. Tyler. Stepping into the dimmed lights of the kitchen, I see his disgusting face once more. "Now that HE'S in prison, we can pick right back up where we left." one of his sickly fingers twirls a strand of my hair making me feel sick. Gritting my teeth I speak. "We left off at the concert. Where you broke my nose and I broke up with you permanently." "No you didn't. Im here aren't I?" the wickedness that was soaked in his voice was extremely daunting. "Ill be a great husband and a better dad to the kid than that punk freak ever would have been." His hands touch my stomach. Rage sets in. Leaning back against the counter, my fingers curl around the handle of the knife unseen to him. "Ronnie is three things you will NEVER be. A man. My husband and the father of my child!" Without any hesitation, the knife plunges its way into Tyler's liver, making him scream out in agony. Dashing towards the front door, I hit the floor on my side with a shrill scream as Tyler grips my ankle pulling me to him. Kicking at his hand, he releases my ankle and goes for my hair gripping a fistful. "If I can't have you or the kid, noone can." The blow comes. For that moment, I have died. My life had ceased. Every emotion, memory, came back to me. I couldn't scream, I couldn't yell for help, I wasn't breathing. I felt it. Warmth between my legs dripping slowly onto a cold wooden floor. Tears slowly flowed their way out of my non blinking, horrified eyes watching the blurred outline of Tyler getting body slammed to the ground, dropping me with a silent thud on the ground,by another male outline receiving uncountable blows to the face. A female figure approaches me. I think shes screaming. Or crying. I can't hear anything they're saying. I can hear my heartbeat stopping and the agonizing drips hitting the ground. The male figure grabs what might be a cellphone. Maybe he's calling the cops on Tyler.  Everything was moving so painfully slow. My hands remained intact with my now kicked stomach. My child was dying. I could feel it. I was dying. My heart was dying. I was going to die with my child. Paramedics and cops rushed slowly into my small Californian home. I felt them carefully move me onto a stretcher, in the same position. My eyes began to grow dark. As we drove by the cops, my now darkening eyes met Tyler's, one last time before the lights went out for the final time.