Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 27

Trigger Warning.

It's unexpected when Holly is handed a letter. She hasn't had a single letter. Until today. She isn't sure who it would be, and tears it open, but her face drops when she realises who wrote it. The writing is so recognisable as Remington's. Oh God.

Holly,
You ruined my fucking life, and I'm gonna tell you why, because you deserve to live with the guilt of what you have done to me! Get comfy, you're going to be here for a while.

Number one- For months after you fucking raped me, I couldn't even hug my fucking boyfriend, or my therapist (yes, I have a therapist) or my fans. I played hundreds of shows and I hugged about 20 fucking people because every time I hugged anyone I nearly had a fucking panic attack. You did that to me.

Number two- I hate myself. I hate myself so much that I can't even look in the mirror anymore. You made me so fucking ugly! I can't take my shirt off without tearing up because of the horrible fucking scar that YOU gave me. I really hope you hate yourself as much as I hate myself. You deserve to feel what I feel.

Number three- Nightmares. So many terrible fucking nightmares. For months after you RAPED ME I couldn't get even half a night of sleep. I was sick every night because the thought of you touching me was too much to handle. Emerson and Sebastian hardly slept either. So not only did you ruin my nights, but also my brother's nights too. Is that what you wanted? Did you want to destroy us all? Because congratufuckinglations! YOU HAVE! Mission fucking accomplished. I hope you're satisfied, because let me tell you, non of us are.

Number four- I've been in a mental hospital TWICE! THAT'S HOW BAD THIS ALL IS! I KEEP TRYING TO FUCKING DIE AND I CAN'T FUCKING STOP BECAUSE YOU'RE ALWAYS IN MY FUCKING HEAD! So I hope that's what you wanted. Did you want to send me insane? Did you want to tear me to FUCKING PIECES just because it was fucking easy for you? I hope you regret everything. But I know you probably don't. And that fucking hurts.

Number five- We had to cancel a whole tour. Not just a few shows. A WHOLE FUCKING TOUR! Why? YOU SHOULD KNOW WHY! Do you know how many people we let down because of you? It was so fucking heart breaking, Holly, and I have to live with the fact that I'm a let down BECAUSE OF YOU! I was so terrified of our photographer that we had to cancel a whole tour. WHY? SHE LOOKED LIKE YOU! SHE LOOKED LIKE YOU AND IT MADE ME SICK!! I HOPE THIS MAKES YOU HAPPY. What was the point? Why did you need to do this to me? What did you gain? Are you happy now? Are you sitting in jail smiling because you ruined me? If you are, then fuck you. Seriously, fuck you. And if you aren't, if you actually regret this. FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING AWFUL FUCKING HUMAN! I hope you burn in hell. You deserve to burn in hell for everything you've put me through. You deserve to be alone for the rest of your sad sad fucking life. Maybe then you'll finally feel what I felt for so many fucking years. And if you don't -

FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! YOU TORE ME TO PIECES AND DIDN'T BOTHER PUTTING ME BACK TOGETHER. SO FUCK YOU!!!!

Go to hell.
You know who this is from.

Holly can't even hear him talking as she reads it because she hardly let him talk by the end. But God, he's really fucking angry. A bit over the top if you ask her. Seriously, it isn't even that bad. So what if she caused a tour cancellation? Who gives a shit? Their fans never cared about them anyway. She tears up the letter and bins it. She doesn't feel guilty. She regrets that he didn't die when she stabbed him, but that's it. She's actually surprised that he's still alive. She always thought he'd have just let himself bleed out in that bath tub. And anyway, she didn't make him cancel tour. She didn't tell him to. So technically, it isn't her fault. None of this is really her fault, if you look at it like that. She didn't make him cancel tour, or go to a mental hospital, or get a therapist, or anything. So this isn't even her fault. He's blaming her for something she didn't even do. Typical Remington.

"Why can't you come?" Remington asks Andy, the night before tour begins, lying on the sofa with his head in the man's lap.

Andy sighs. "You know I can't, princess, we're recording an album." He kisses his hand. "I'll call you every day, I promise." The man is nervous. He has a plan and it needs be done today. Like-right now. He lifts the boy's head of his lap and stands up. Remington watches him. "I need to ask you something," Andy says, and kneels by the sofa. Remington sits up straight, eyes wide, but not letting himself get excited, in case this isn't what he really hopes it is. "I know this isn't all romantic or anything, but I need to ask you now, before you leave for months." He pulls something from his pocket and Remington covers his mouth with his hand. "Remington, sweetheart, my beautiful beautiful flower, will you marry me?"

Remington sobs. He can't form words. Is this really happening? He nods manically, hoping that's enough, and Andy takes his hand to slide the simple ring onto his finger. "Really?" He sobs, not fully believing this is happening. Why would Andy want to marry him?

The man hums and pulls him into a hug. "Really," he assures his fiancé, "I absolutely adore you, angel, and I don't want anyone else. I want you. I need you."

The boy has never felt so loved. "I fucking love you," he sobs, "oh my God. I fucking love you so much."