When Andy finally has it with Ronnie's drug use and domestic abuse, he tries to leave, only to regret ever thinking about it (Not for faint of heart or stomach!)
"I left because you're fucking abusive!"
"Don't talk to me like that." Ronnie said as a dangerous glint lit up his eyes. Andy quivered. He'd learned from prior pain and experience that whenever Ronnie got that look in his eyes, the best thing for him to do if he wanted to see the next day was to hide. But as it was, he was tied down, and couldn't hide from his lover even if he wanted to.
"I don't let no one talk to me that way, so what the fuck makes ya think ya can?" Radke snarled.
Andy felt it would be the healthier choice at the moment for him to keep his mouth shut. That had worked for him in the past, but this time, apparently it was the wrong strategy, because the elder man yelled, "What? No fucking answer now?", before slapping him again.
As much as Andy wanted his freedom, he valued his life more. He decided he would just play this as well as he could. He would act just the way he knew his lover would want him to act. Weak and submissive.
He would swallow his pride this time. He lowered his head, and whispered, " I'm sorry."
"You're going to be fucking sorry!" Ronnie yelled. This was going to get ugly. Normally, when Andy started apologizing, the elder man would soften up, not get crueler. Six let out an involuntary whimper. If he was scared before, he was terrified now. Why did he have to get caught making his getaway while Ronnie was high? He was always so heartless when he was high...
Then, Radke pulled out a knife. Andy squirmed against his bonds. "Oh God."
"God can't fucking save you now."
"No! Please no!"
This was his last chance to see if things were going to get better. If his lover listened to his pleas, good chance was he was just very fucking pissed.
But it looks like there would be no such luck for the little Fallen Angel tonight, because the older man snapped, "Don't fucking tell me what to do!", before making a tiny scratch across his cheek.
"Shut up!" The singer screamed, before throwing a punch. There was the sound of a crack, before Andy howled in pain, blood pouring out of his nose.
"I said shut up!" Ronnie snarled at the other man, before grabbing his chin with one hand, forcing their eyes to meet. He could see quite clearly the terror that lay behind the blue eyes, and the pretty face contorted in pain. Oh, and that perfect skin, covered in blood. Normally, upon seeing this sight, he would have stopped, not wanting to damage his beauty any more than necessary.
Instead, he put the knife that he was holding in the younger man's mouth, up against the inside of his cheek. One twitch, and it would slice his face open. Andy held himself perfectly still, not wanting to tempt the hands of fate. There was a tense moment, Andy's eyes pleading with him not to do it, do anything but that. He knew what was most likely going to happen, and the amount of pain that it could visit upon him. He didn't want that, in any way, shape, or form. Ronnie ignored those pleading eyes, instead yanking the knife to the side.
It cut cleanly through the younger man's cheek, nearly all the way to his ear, as if it were nothing more than hot butter. He now had a gash that completely separated the top of his cheek from the bottom, a half of a Chelsea grin. He let out an inhuman noise, sinking down in his chair, his hands fighting to break free of his bonds, to hold the gaping wound together, or at the very least, to curl into a ball and make himself seem like the least imposing target as possible.
"I fucking told you to shut up. At least now no other man's gonna be lookin' at ya." Ronnie spat, licking his lover's blood off the knife with a pink tongue, careful not to cut himself. Looks like he had gotten some high quality heroin this time. That had only happened twice before, and Andy still bore the scars of each time. Stab wounds tended to leave a nasty mark, just like the time Ronnie had tried slicing his throat open. After that incident, he'd woken up in the hospital, his mother crying over him, his father comforting her, and Ronnie holding his hand, all of them asking, "Why Andy? Why did you try to kill yourself?"
the tears rolled down, laced with eyeliner than ran down Andy's cheeks, stinging the wound on the side of his face, and as much as he tried to, he couldn't hold back the whines of agony.
"Do I have to do the other side too?" Ronnie asked threateningly, holding up the now licked clean knife so that Andy could see it clearly. The younger man shook his head, not willing to bring more pain to his face by saying anything. He didn't know the exact extent of the gash in his cheek, but he felt as though opening his mouth in the slightest would cause it to rip even further.
"Then you'll shut the fuck up unless I tell ya otherwise!"
a nod replied.
"You think that this is gonna be over soon? Think again! Ya ain;t leavin' me, now or ever!" Radke screeched, before digging his knife into Andy's side, leaving a nasty gash. The blue-eyed boy threw his head back in agony. As much as he couldn't take what he had been going through before, he would have never tried to escape if he knew this was going to happen.
"Bet you're regretting ever trying to run away now, aren't you?"
"Do you regret stayin' with me?" Ronnie asked, his voice going suddenly soft. If caught Andy off guard. Slowly, he shook his head, 'no'.
"Are you sure?" Ronnie asked. The way he was acting right now worried Andy even more than the knife he held, which was a lot. Another shake of the head to signify no.
"Don't lie to me!"
Andy shuddered faintly. If his cheek wasn't in agony, he'd say anything to get out of this predicament, anything at all.
"If you claim you don't regret staying, then why th' fuck do I get th' feelin' tha' you're gonna run if I let ya go?" The elder man said, his words beginning to get slurred, before slicing open Andy's bicep. He let out a grunt of pain. The knife was growing dull. It'd just cause more pain as time went by. But then again, that was what Radke was intending to do, wasn't it? Cause him as much pain as was possible? Because if it was, then he was doing one hell of a good job.
"You need to learn your fucking place!" Before another slice, to his chest this time, was made.
"And your place is below me!" The knife was now at his throat. A thin line was created, drawing up beads of blood.
Andy swallowed convulsively. Was this how it was going to end? He had been through this before, and the aftermath had been highly unpleasant. The tears began to fall, faster and faster, their saltiness increasing the pain in his cheek. He didn't want to die. nOt like this. He could feel the blood leaking from his cheek, down his neck, and making his shirt stick to his neck unpleasantly.
"Awww, poor thin. Ya don' wanna die, d'ya?" Ronnie mocked him.
Andy shook his head viciously. He didn't particularly care for the life that he was living now, but he liked being alive. At least if he were alive, he could start over somewhere new. If he were dead, well then that'd be kinda hard.
"Then ya shouldn' ha tried t' leave!" The singer yelled, before ripping open his lover's stomach with the knife. Blood flowed out in a sickening gush.
"Y' promised me ya'd nev'r leave!" was accompanied by a gash to his thigh.
By now, Andy was trembling and whimpering helplessly, covered in his own blood, and tears washing over his face in a constant flow. He was at the brink of unconsciousness. But Ronnie beat him to the punch, falling over, out cold. His drugs had effectively left him a comatose heap on the floor. Seeing this, Andy gave in, passing out several minutes later, still bleeding and tied to the chair.
An hour or two later, Andy was woken up by Ronnie shaking him vigorously. He let out a whimper, cringing away. He was expecting more pain and torment from the one who swore to love him forever. Ronnie glared at him, a harsh glint in his eyes, though not as bad as before.
Unwillingly, Andy forced himself to relax. The glint left his lover's eyes. "Did you learn your lesson?" He asked at length. A lot of weight rode on those 5 words. "Good." Ronnie said, patting him on the head, before saying, "Now I'll take care of your cuts."
He left, returning moments later with a massive first aid kit. Andy squirmed uncomfortably. In the aftermath of all the times that it had gotten pretty bad and Ronnie had insisted on fixing him, the act of taking care of his wounds was painful. It was as if the older man was trying to draw out the torture, this time under the guise of trying to make it all better. And should Andy dare complain or try getting away even if it were the most excruciating pain in the world, that would just be a trigger for the violence to resume again, leaving him with even more cuts and bruises. Truth be told, he would have rather just let the cuts stay open, to hell with infection.
Ronnie soaked a cotton round in rubbing alcohol. Andy could smell it from where he sat, and he instantly tensed. There was more pain to come for the night ahead, and he didn't want any more pain. He just wanted it to end already. Apparently he was going to start out small, because he merely reached out and used it to wipe away the dried blood from the tiny little scratch on his intact cheek. Even so, the younger man drew in a sharp breath. If the other singer noticed it, he didn't let on. Instead, he applied a small dab of ointment to the scratch.
"Andy, you know how much I hate doing this to you." Ronnie said with a sigh, before moving on to the wound on his bicep. This one was both deeper and larger, but not by much. When the alcohol touched the edges of his open flesh, Andy let out a slight whine. This wasn't a tenth as bad as his cheek. If he couldn't handle that, then how the hell was he going to manage it when it came time to fix his mouth? "I know you don't like this either." The older man said, the tone of his voice as if he were saying something less important, like "I know you don't like chocolate ice cream, so I got vanilla instead."
Andy nodded. This was something that he could agree with. He wasn't a masochist who loved being beaten and sliced all the time. In fact, he couldn't stand pain, even though he did have a few tattoos and piercings. But as a matter of course, those were pain that he chose, not pain that was thrust upon him.
"You see?" Ronnie asked, applying ointment to his arm, before deciding that it could use a butterfly strip or three to help it heal better. As he dug around for them, he said, "It's really simple, Andy. You don't like getting hurt, and I don't like hurting you."
He found what he was looking for, turning around, standing in front of his partner. Andy looked at him apprehensively. "This part won't hurt too badly." Ronnie said, ripping open the paper wrappers to two of the butterfly strips, before applying them to the singer's arm. Then, he placed a layer of gauze over It and secured the whole thing with medical tape.
"And if we can both agree on that, then why do you keep making me hurt you?" he asked, kneeling down in front of the singer. Andy gulped. Ronnie was a clever man. He treated the 'milder' wounds first. Now, when he was going to start talking about the more important things, he had the worse ones to deal with. He could inflict more pain that way.
He soaked a fresh pad in alcohol. Andy shivered faintly. God, he didn't want to continue with this. Please, just end it, or give him something to ease the pain. Instead, it was just wiped straight across his cut open thigh. He let out a low moan of pain. He didn't want this, just let him bleed to death, but just don't continue with this. "Come on, there's not all that much left now. " Ronnie said, as if to comfort him.
Andy's breaths were coming out harsh and rapid. He was terrified, and he was in pain. He didn't know what was coming next. From his place on the ground in front of him, Ronnie placed several kisses onto his knee. They served their purpose. Making him calm down a bit. His eyes were still full of fright, however, when they made eye contact. "I'm not going to stitch this up, since it's on your thigh and I'm the only one who's going to see it. Right?"
Andy nodded, a jerky motion. Maybe he wouldn't be too cruel and heartless this time. Maybe.
"Good. Maybe you did learn." Ronnie said, kissing his knee again, before unwrapping several more butterfly strips, using them to hold the edges of the wound together. Andy dropped his head back, taking in deep lungfuls of air. It hurt, but he knew that there was probably worse to come. The ointment going on there hurt too, and so did the gauze. It was deeper than he thought it was originally. It had actually hit the fat layer, something believed to be an impossibility, considering how thin he was.
After wrapping the whole thing up with medical tape, Ronnie gave it a slight tap. Andy winced in pain. It was probably terrible, just from the way that it felt. Then, he came back up, to the long line on the younger singer's side. That, too, he swabbed out with alcohol, using the butterfly stitches to hold together. There was just the gash in his stomach, and his torn apart cheek to contend with.
By the time he was done, however, Andy was on the verge of tears, and his breaths were coming in harsh and shallow. He knew what was coming next. Stitches. Radke had been nice to him so far... too nice. That meant that when he moved onto the next two, he probably wasn't going to be holding back.
Ronnie reached out and grabbed his chin, making them look eye to eye. He could see that Andy was terrified beyond belief. "Are you scared?"
A moment passed before Andy nodded. He was scared that by saying yes, he was opening himself up to getting beaten up again.
"Don't fight me, don't move at all, and it won't be so bad." Ronnie said,letting go, before using a few alcohol soaked pads to pat delicately at the other man's wounded stomach. Andy let out a high pitched squeal of pain, his muscles clenching up, as he couldn't run away from the pain. Just when he thought that it was over, Ronnie was holding up a needle and thread. Andy quickly shook his head no.
"Didn't I fucking tell you not to fight me?"
Andy nodded, tears spilling out of the corner of his eyes. The older man leaned forward, licking them off his face, careful to avoid the mangled cheek. "I won't tell you again." He said, before grabbing the edges of the wound on Andy's stomach at one corner. Then, the needle went through it. He pulled the thread along with it, all the way through. The singer could feel every since centimeter of the thread going through his skin, pulling and tugging, no matter how gentle the other man was trying to be. He let out a whine each time that he felt the needle puncture his skin. He didn't know how long it went on, but soon enough, yet not soon enough, it was over. That left only the half a Chelsea smile to worry about.
"We're almost over." Ronnie said, facing his lover at last. Andy whimpered, tugging at his bonds in a futile attempt to get away. He would take anything besides what he knew was coming next. He didn't want to go through with it. It made him cringe just to think about the agony that would be visited upon him in a moment. "This is going to hurt, you know that, right?"
A nod replied that. He didn't want it to hurt. He knew that Ronnie could do something to keep this from being too much for him to handle. He knew that. He knew that the older man kept a large stash of drugs everywhere, and some of it was capable of knocking out a horse if used the right way. "Want me to give you something for it?"
A look of hope lit up blue eyes, and Andy nodded again, almost not willing to believe his good luck. Then, it was dashed like fragile stemware on hard cinderblock. "Too bad. You don't deserve it." His head fell.
"But maybe if you behave yourself, then I just might help you." Radke said, looking at the other man. The faint glow of hope started to light up again in his eyes. There was the very slight chance that he was actually going to do something to keep him out of the misery that he knew he was about to go through. Then there was the larger chance, which was nearly a certainty, that he would just be forced to suffer.
But it seemed like now that the drugs were finally mostly worn off, Radke was back in the nearest thing to a normal state of mind that he could be in. "I'll give you something this time, but next time, it's gonna be twice as bad, and I won't care." He said, before going into the medical kit. Within a moment, he came up with a hypodermic needle, and a spoon. He dropped the needle and the spoon onto Andy's lap, before taking off his belt.
The singer knew what he was going to get injected with, but he was at the point that if it kept him from suffering, then he was willing to accept it. He freed one of Andy's arms, the uninjured one, pulling it in front of him. As he tied his belt as tightly as he could around the bony limb, he said, "Better be fuckin' grateful that I didn't use all of it yet." The younger man gulped. Apparently his luck wasn't so good after all.
Then, Ronnie grabbed up the spoon. Reaching into his pocket, he found a white rock, placing it on the spoon. In his next foray into his pocket, he pulled out a lighter, using it to heat the rock until it melted. Then, he used the needle to suck up the liquid. All the while, Andy was looking at him uneasily. Seeing this, he spat, "Don't look at me like that. You wanna suffer?"
Andy quickly looked down.
He was still looking down when he felt the needle prick his vein, injecting it's drug. It didn't take long to affect him, considering he had never done anything more serious than the occasional shot of whiskey. After about a minute or two, Ronnie asked him, "How ya feelin'?"
Andy just looked up at him with dazed eyes, unfocused on anything.
Ronnie smiled, before lightly touching the wounded cheek. Andy didn't even flinch, he was that out of it. The older man grabbed up his alcohol and cotton pads, wiping all the blood away from his partner's neck and cheek. Still, he didn't make a single move. Out came the needle, sewing up the horrible cut, until it was nothing much to worry about. On top of that, ointment and silicon sheets, meant to prevent scarring.
Finally finished, he untied Andy from the chair, and scooped him up bridal style. He didn't even twitch. Ronnie took him upstairs, into their bedroom. Maybe he should make it a habit to keep Andy drugged up like this. He was certainly less of a pain, and he was so tame...