The Incredible League of Goth Pizza Haters (RH)

Part 81

---Sylvia---
It was an old room, the cement walls were cracked and some debris lay scattered on the floor. Vines and leaves draped themselves against and behind the browned and broken glass of the small window in the upper left corner of the room. It was the only light source. Dust swirled in the empty air of the light and it would've been so beautiful..

So beautiful if he wasn't here.

"You think I forgot? You think I ever dared to forget? I remember you know? I remember every second. Every word and every bruise I ever left on you. And your mother." the metal pole in his hand dragged against the floor, the sound breaking out into the silence along with every word from his mouth. Cutting into the quiet and the beauty of broken things.

"I remember you when you were small. Fists balled and that look in your eye. You were tough. I made you tough."

There was no use in me speaking.

"I didn't hate you.. I hated that look. That look in your goddamn eyes. I'm not.." he faded almost, voice breaking, and the way he paced around the room, throwing his hands and changing his voice made me think he was having some internal struggle and I wondered if he was me. My subconscious or something, because this man was dead and his brother was in the hospital.

Every copy, every piece of his existence that could ever reach me was inside my head.

Or maybe I'm being haunted.

"And I'm glad I didn't kill you. I'm glad I killed your mother instead. She was crippled from the inside, a weak-willed person who should never have lived as long as she had. If I'd killed you she would have just crippled some more until the drugs took her. But you - I shaped you, didn't I? I toughened you up and you should be glad I did. I beat that porcelain skin to stone."

He dropped the pipe, and I flinched as the sound rang out.

"And now here we are again." he turned his face from the light. "You don't have that look in your eye anymore, do you?"

My head was hurting, even before it happened.

"Then there is nothing."

It lifted from the ground, the metal pipe, dented and bruised with rust. He swung it down on me as hard as he could. Cracked it down on the side of my head and even in the realm of unconsciousness, it hurt so bad.

I writhed as I died. And I shook as I woke.

"Via.. hey.. Via.. You're okay." Ricky murmured, rubbing my back. I was sitting up in bed, the bedside table light illuminated half of his face, shadowed in worry. "Are you here?"

"I'm here," I whispered, and clutched my head. The pain was dying down, leaving the dull throbbing sensation. I sighed and lay back down in the sheets.

"Jesus Christ," Ricky went on, "You know you make noises in your sleep sometimes? Like little sounds and you twitch? But sometimes you shake, like you fucking tremble and it's fucking scary."

"Sorry," I murmured, too tired to be amused or embarrassed.

"It's fine. It's just," he sighed, "You've taken ten years off my life."

He laid back on the bed and tried to sleep. I waited a few minutes before quickly coming to the conclusion that that wouldn't be happening for me. I couldn't.. My mind was running outside my head and on top of that, I just did not want to sleep. Whenever I did it was either a clusterfuck of dreams or straight on nightmares.

I tried to slip undetected from the room but was caught.

"Where're you going?" he asked groggily.

"Downstairs. I can't sleep. Don't worry, go back to bed." I said. He propped himself up yawned.

"No, I think I'll come with you."

"Ricky, it's fine. Go back to bed." I said, but he already had his pillows tucked under his arm and was walking over. He followed me out of the room and we set up on the couch. We watched some weird late night tv program and within a half hour he was already drifting off again.

The sun was beginning to shade colors on the horizon and the sky was already lightening. I felt a bit hungry so I gently tried to slip away when I thought he was asleep but when I stood up his head gave a little jolt forward as his eyes snapped open.

"Hm?"

"I'm just getting a snack," I said and he nodded, blinking awake. I heated up one of those tiny cheeseburgers in the microwave and ate it with chips. Ricky, who was somehow still awake, ate some as well and afterward seemed fully conscious.

***

"Shouldn't you be getting back to tour soon?" I asked. He set down the laundry hamper and paused. He was doing housework. Turns out a traumatic kidnapping closely followed by a car accident was a great excuse to not have to clean. Also, I think he felt bad for wrecking the house.

"Yeah.. Chris said he had someone to cover for me for about a week. And I've been back.." he ran his tongue over his lip rings as he thought, "Shit. This is the sixth day. I don't know, I'll have to talk to Chris about staying longer."

"No no no. You need to go back."

"I will."

"You need to go back, like, tomorrow. Ricky, being in a band is your dream. I told you before I wasn't going to take that away from you. That statement still stands. You're not losing your job to stay home with me. No way." he smiled and tapped his fingers against the rim of the basket.

"I won't. They'll figure it out.. and do you really think they're going to replace me? I've known them for over a year now and, correct me if I'm wrong, I don't think they'd do that under these circumstances. You know I had to talk Chris out of coming down here himself? They get it, Via. Don't worry."

"You're saying you'd rather be here doing laundry than there playing on stage?"

".. I'm where I need to be." he continued down the hallway and I rested my head thoughtfully on the top of the couch.

***

I gathered up the bottles under the kitchen sink and set them on the counter. I sighed, wincing almost as I unscrewed the caps and one by one, washed the alcohol down the drain. It was for the best.. I should never have been drinking in the first place, being underage and all...

I paused several times as my brain tried to beg me to just hide the bottles somewhere else but after every pause came a pressing surge of guilt that kept the alcohol washing away.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Ricky asked, walking in. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted.

"Uhm. I don't know. Getting rid of my alcohol."

"Really?"

"Yeah.. I shouldn't be drinking.. And.. Sorry." I said, setting the last empty bottle on the countertop.

"For what?"

"You know."

He sighed heavily.

"That wasn't your fault. That was just me fucking up."

"It wouldn't have been if I hadn't.."

"I probably would've done something equally as stupid either way."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I'm tired, but okay."

"You're sure?"

"I am."

I hugged him.

"You should take a nap."

"I would love to." he pecked me on the cheek, "Will you be okay for a few hours?"

I rolled my eyes.

"I'll try not to die."