Save me. (Remington Leith X Andy Biersack)

Chapter 28

After a week in hospital, Remington is told that he needs to talk to the police. He objects and says over and over that he won't, but that isn't an option. He needs to explain exactly what happened in that hotel room.

That night, with the thought heavy on his mind, Remington barely sleeps. He turns over and over in the bed, despite the aching it brings his stomach which is healing slowly. There is no doubt that he's going to be left with an ugly scar that will never go away. A constant reminder of the terror that nearly left him dead on the street.

All Remington's restless moving about wakes his little brother who's sleeping in the chair. Emerson frowns. "Rem?"

The singer looks at the drummer and sighs. "Can't sleep," he mumbles, "anxious."

Emerson stands up and yawns. "It'll be okay," he says quietly, and lifts up the cover. Remington shuffles over to the side and lets his brother in beside him. "What happened, Remington, what happened in the hotel?" The younger man hasn't even been told yet. Remington hasn't said a word to anyone about it. He's terrified of what Holly might do. With a long, heavy sigh, he turns to look at Emerson. Should he tell him? The boy shakes his head. "You can't keep it inside, it's going to destroy you. You know that better than anyone." Remington is quiet. He knows Emerson is right but he can't bear the idea of Holly ever hurting his best friend like she threatened in the hotel. "Andy said it wasn't you, so who did it, who hurt you?"

"Why do you all think I did it?" Remington questions, hurt that anyone would actually believe he'd do that to himself. Sure, he's self harmed before, but he'd never try to end his own life, not like this.

The younger man senses the hurt in his brother's voice. "We don't, Rem, I just-I know you've been feeling down lately." He exhales. "Who was it?"

Silence falls over the dark room. Remington closes his eyes and tries to go to sleep to avoid the question. It's no use. He sits up suddenly and bursts into tears. "It was Holly, okay, she found me," he cries, falling into Emerson's arms and sobbing.

Emerson rubs his brother's back. "That bitch," he whispers to himself, "hey, it's alright, it's alright, she can't do anything now."

"Yes she can! She keeps finding me, Emerson, she keeps coming after me. Why do you think locking her up for a few more years would stop her?" Remington is hysterical. He's finally let it out and now he can't breathe.

"She tried to kill you. She'll be locked up for more than a few years, Rem, she could be sentenced to a life in prison."

Remington heaves a breath, digging his head into the younger man's shoulder. "I want her to die," he whispers. It's the first time he's ever said that, and perhaps the first time he's ever really thought it. For so many years Remington has told himself that no one should ever deserve to die, no matter what they do, but he's tired of kidding himself. Holly has dedicated so many cruel years to hurting him and she can't get away with it any longer. She must be locked up.

The exhausted and upset boy falls asleep in Emerson's arms, much to Emerson's relief. He hates seeing his brother so broken.

Emerson guides him down onto the pillow and strokes his hair from his tearful face, covering his thin body with the covers. The younger man lies down and holds his brother in his arms, the poor boy's words echoing in his head.

I want her to die.

Emerson does too. So much. That lady has put Remington through worse than hell. How could anyone hurt him?

Remington quivers in his sleep. Everything is blurry, but there are familiar, scary sounds bouncing around in his mind.

Her laugh.
Her voice.
Her calm, flat tone.
The bangs as he fell into things.
Crashes.
The lies.
The excuses.

The water rushing into that hotel bathtub.

It's like he's drowning all over again. Like that knife is twisting and turning inside him. His lungs are empty of oxygen. His heart is failing in his chest. His throat is closing up.

He can't make it stop.

Remington darts up, spluttering. He tries to breathe and jumps when a soft hand is placed on his shoulder.

Just Emerson.

Emerson is terrified. He's so scared that his brother isn't going to get better. Sure, his wound can heal, but only physically. What about all that trauma? All the horrific words, the insults, the sleepless nights spent on that couch in the cold. How can he recover from that?

"Remington, hey, it's okay, look at me, it's alright." His voice is soft, gentle, concerned.

The poor man shakes his head, jumping out of the bed and ignoring the pain it brings him. It's the first time he's stood without being supported. Even to go to the toilet he has to be helped. Every move sends sharp needle like stings down his body. "No its not!" He shouts, distressed. Why does everyone keep saying it's okay?

Emerson is wide awake now. Is this what happened that night when Andy called him over?

Remington is in tears, holding his stomach with one hand and pulling at his hair with the other. "It's not okay!" The words rip at his throat and he swears he can taste the familiar coppery flavour of blood in his mouth.

He hasn't even showered since the hotel. The sound of water hitting the surface brings up to may fresh memories. The boy can't barely wash his hands anymore.

Emerson quickly gets out of the bed. He knows that doctors will come in soon. Remington is pretty much screaming. "Deep breaths, Remington, come on," he encourages.

Shaking his head violently, Remington kicks the wall. "You lied! You promised me you wouldn't let her hurt me! You fucking lied!" Remington feels so confused, so disoriented, so desperately overwhelmed. He wants a hug. And to go home. And he wants to he able to look at Andy without picturing Holly.

He wants to love Andy without the pain of it.

The door is opened. A doctor, Remington's doctor, comes in, alert, prepared for whatever is going on. He asks Emerson what happened. The man explains as calmly as he can. He can't stop shaking.

The doctor holds Remington's shoulders and the boy screams, kicking and thrashing about. He doesn't want to be here anymore.

Emerson can only watch as his best friend is injected with something and goes limp in the doctor's hold, collapsing against the man.

Remington is put back in bed and the doctor tells Emerson that he'll be unconscious for half an hour or so. Hopefully he'll have calmed down by the time he wakes up.

One can only hope.