Save me. (Remington Leith X Andy Biersack)

Chapter 16

Trigger warning.
Remington tenses, doing anything possible to avoid eye contact.

"Well look who it is," the woman says, smirking, "hello Remington."

The boy looks down. "You-you were arrested," he mutters, confused as to why she's here and not in jail.

Holly, the familiar sharp, mean, features cutting into Remington, rolls her eyes. "I was, but only for three months. Now I'm back."

Remington backs away as she steps closer. "I-I'm sorry," he stutters, terrified of what she's going to do to him.

The girl chuckles meanly. "And you should be sorry," she states, the flatness of her voice so chilling it makes the man shudder. "To think you could just get rid of me like that! How fucking stupid of you, Remington, how fucking stupid!" Her voice becomes almost hysteric and she is now barely a metre from the boy. "How fucking stupid," she repeats, harsh, sharp, rude. "How fucking stupid of you."

Shaking his head, Remington tries to turn and run, but before he even manages to take another step she grabs him. "Let go," he begs, the contact of her hands on him bringing to the surface so many vile, unnerving memories that he feels he might be sick.

Holly does the opposite, holding him tight and painful, though making sure not to look suspicious to any one passing by. "You can never get rid of me, never. I will always be here, in you darkest dreams, in your darkest thoughts, in your town. I will always be here." She begins walking, forcing Remington beside her. "It was hell in jail, Remington, hell. Do you know how boring it is?"

Hell, Remington thinks, is what I endure whenever you're around.

"Sorry," he says again, shaking terribly, "sorry."

"Shut up. I'm sick of your fucking voice. Singing, talking, begging, whatever you do, I'm sick of hearing it." Her fingers are digging in to his arm, so deep he is sure she's broken the skin and reached bone. He knows better than to struggle against her. He knows better than to disobey her.

Holly drags him out of town and down to the river. She makes him sit on the rock by the rushing water. "You are weak. You ran away from me. You tried to lock me up, to get rid of me. You are weak." She gathers up pebbles as she talks, and all Remington can do is watch. "I wish you had stayed," she goes on, "to see what else I had to offer. But you didn't. You fucking coward."

The pebbles scrape against each other in her hands as she moves them about.

Remington is terrified.

His heart races and his hands shake and he is sure he will soon throw up.

"I wasn't planning on seeing you today, you know, but I couldn't miss the opportunity. You made it so fucking easy for me." She laughs dryly, humourless, while lifting her hand up by her head. "Close your eyes."

Despite every single nerve in his body protesting, shouting at him to get up and run, Remington does as he's told.

Holly has always had control over him, ever since they first met. She always gets what she wants.

The boy shudders as he hears the stones clashing, and almost chokes on his heartbeat.

And then they hit him, colliding with his delicate, soft face with so much force that blood trickles down his face like perfect red tears. Even after she's thrown the pebbles, he doesn't dare move an inch. His face is burning and his heart is so fast he fears he's about to implode.

Then suddenly her hand is pushing on the back of his head. And he is under water.

The sudden action caused Remington to inhale water and he desperately tries to pull his head up, but she won't let him. He splutters hopelessly, thrashing around as his fresh wounds sting tremendously.

He's pulled out by his hair, and gulps in oxygen, coughing in agony.

"Wasn't that fun," Holly remarks, "but you splashed me, and my mascara isn't waterproof." And then she does it again, holding him under long enough that the thought of death crosses his mind over and over.

Once she has pulled him out again she stands up and walks briskly away, tossing a pebble at him as she dissapears. It hits the back of his head.

Remington doesn't know what to do. He carefully gets to his feet, having to try multiple times before he is able to stand up and not trip. He thinks about going to Emerson, but realises how far away the house is from here. He can't make it that far.

So the boy, beaten and battered, stumbles back into town, ignoring anyone who asks if he needs help, and makes it to the only other place he could think of. He pressed the doorbell weakly, everything hurting, and waits.

Andy opens the door and is surprised, not because it's Remington, but because of the state he's in. "Oh my God, Remington," he whispers, "what happened?"

The boy stares at the man with wide yet weary eyes. Part of him wants a hug, but the other part is still certain that Andy is just going to hurt him.

"Come in, let me help you," the older says quickly, concerned.

Remington steps through the door, stumbling and being caught by Andy. "She-she's here," he mutters, "Holly; she's here."

Andy holds the boy's trembling body to him. "Deep breaths," he whispers, "you're safe now, sweetheart."