Fake Your Own Death~ Adopted by Andy Biersack

9. No chance of Speaking. Huh.

The bright light was the first thing I saw as I forced my eyes to open.  I was in a hospital.  Obviously.  Andy was sleeping in an uncomfortable looking chair to the left of my bed while the rest of BVB could be heard out next to the vending machines.

What happened?  Why can't I remember?  My throat hurts.  And then it all came back to me.

The cold grass.  The dark sky.  The strange man.  The pain.

I guess it all came back a bit too quickly because before I knew it, I was bawling.  Like a baby.

Stupid tears.  Stay the f*ck put.

"Angel?  Angel!  Nurse!  Nurse!  She's awake!" Andy screamed.  "Are you okay?!  I was so worried!"

"Sir, we need you to please step outside," a blonde haired nurse said.

"F*ck no!  My daughter has been unconscious for two weeks and you expect me to leave?"  He growled.  Have I really been unconscious for two weeks?

"Mr. Biersack, please step outside.  You can come back soon,"  she added, rolling her eyes in the process.

"F*ck you.  Angel, stay strong," and with that, he was gone.

"Ok, Angel, sweetheart, is it alright if a detective comes in to speak to you?" The nurse asked.

"N-no," I coughed out.

"Hon, they just want to help.  We'll never catch your rapist if you don't help," she sighed.  This woman has obviously never heard of sugar-coating before.

"G-get o-ut," I cried, "pl-please."  She sighed and left the room, only for Ashley to take her place on the end of my bed.

"Hey Gee, how you feelin'?" Ashley frowned.

Like sh*t.

I gave a thumbs up and a fake smile.

"Good," he sighed, hugging me.  "Andy's been total garbage since he heard about what happened, he thinks it's his fault,"

"Ge-t him, ple-ease," I choked out.

"Sure thing, Gee," he replied.

•11.36 minutes later•

"Hey there, Angel," Andy said, breaking the heavy silence.

"H-hi, Andy," I stuttered.

"There's that beautiful voice," he smiled.  I grinned, knowing it wasn't true but being happy that he cares.  Unlike anyone currently in my life, I've always known what my voice sounded like. 

The truth is, I wasn't born mute.  I've just always refused to speak.  When I was younger, about eight years old, I was forced by my dad to watch my sister get murdered. 

'"No!  Daddy, let me go!  Why are you hurting Harmony!?  Mommy!  Mommy help me!"  My eight year old self screamed.

"Shut up and pay attention, b*tch," my dad demanded.

"Mommy, help Harmony!"

Harmony, my 13 year old sister, was laying on the floor in a pool of blood.

"Get it through your damn head that your mom died a long time ago!  Because of you!" He seethed.

My dad raised his bat one more time and hit her in the face, the hit that ended Harmony. 

My dad stalked over to me, grabbing my face, and looked me right in the eyes, "Say anything to anyone and I swear to God that you will be next," he growled.