This Blood on My Hands

I was in a park with Bryan; things were like they used to be, simple. He was pushing me on a swing just like he did when we were little. Only now things were different in ways I couldn’t figure out. Little ways, his voice was different for one. Another was his laugh, this laugh could melt your heart. I jump from the swing and land on my feet in the grass.

Turning, I come face to face with him only to find not Bryan, but the one and only Ronald Joseph Radke. The love of my life. I scrunch my face in confusion, he can’t be here. He walks over to me with a huge, breathtaking smile on his face. He wraps his tattooed arms around my waist, pulling me close to him.

I sigh happily and decide not to question why he is here since he is supposed to be in High Desert State Prison. He begins to sing softly to me, his voice soothing me as I sink once more into his embrace.

I‘m woken by a sharp slap to my left cheek, the stinging sensation almost more than I can bear. I slowly open my eyes and gaze around the room. The single folding chair that I am sitting in and a tiny lamp are the only things I see at first. As my eyes adjust a gun and a knife in the corner come into focus.

How did I get here? I wonder and go to stand, only to find that I can’t. My hands and feet are bound. I look up in confusion, trying to find the source of my pain and the person who tied me to the chair. My skin begins to crawl as I now face the one person in the world that I hate more than anyone else. Craig Edward Mabbitt.

“Well, well, well,” he says, walking in circles around my chair. “Sleeping Beauty finally wakes.” He smirks in my direction as he walks over and picks up the knife from the corner.

I glare at him as he walks back over to me, “What the hell do you want, Mabbitt?” I hiss.

He crouches down in front of me, placing the knife in my lap. “Whatever do you mean, darling?” he questions in a sickly sweet voice. His hand reaches out and he slowly trails his fingers down my cheek.

I jerk my head in the opposite direction, a desperate attempt to get his hands off of me. He growls in anger and roughly grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.

He glares hatefully at me before his face softens, “Now baby, there is no reason to act that way.” I continue to glare, refusing to give him the satisfaction of me giving into him and his wants. “You know I love you, right? This is for your own good.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

He sighs and playfully rolls his eyes, “It’s to help you get over him.”

Now it is my turn to roll my eyes. “I love Ronnie, and he loves me. So go fuck yourself.” I mutter. He grabs my face again and roughly places his lips against mine, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I forcefully pull away and without thinking, spit his saliva back into his face. This doesn’t enrage him like I’d hoped. At least, not on the outside. It only makes his smirk grow wider as he stands and wipes his face.

“Fine, you want to play dirty? I can do that.”

He crouches down next to me and takes the knife from my lap, “Shallow cuts hurt the most, you know?” he asks playfully before placing the blade on the inside of my wrists, dragging it slowly across the skin as I finally begin to get scared.

I shift uncomfortably as he digs the knife in slowly, pressing the blade in deeper by the second. I feel the blood begin to trickle to the floor as the pain sets in. He repeats this process until he has sliced all the way up both of my arms. I groan in pain as he stands.

“I’m sorry baby. This hurts me more than it hurts you,” he says with a crazed look on his face. He positions himself directly in front of me. I look up to meet his gaze, pleading with him to stop. “Want to know how to make it stop?”

I nod reluctantly, “Please.”

He leans down, his mouth right next to my ear. “Tell me you love me,” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck.

I shake my head no and he just smiles as he places his fingertips to the cuts and drags them across. I scream in pain as he smiles in satisfaction. He puts the blade of the bloody knife against my throat. “Well, if you’re sure.” He shrugs.

He digs the blade into my flesh as I beg him to stop, yet there is no mercy in his eyes or actions as he slowly drags it under my chin, from ear to ear.

My blood begins to pour out of my body and I slump in my seat as I hear heavy footsteps followed by shouts just outside the door. I try to scream for help, but all that comes out is a sticky wet noise.

“Shit,” I hear him murmur and shuffle off as the door is thrown open, banging against the wall and letting in the bright Nevada sunlight.

Familiar voices fill the air as I am slowly untied and lifted into a strong pair of arms. I open my eyes and see Bryans beautiful face, the face of my best friend. I smile tiredly up at him. He has a horrified look on his face as he looks down at me.

“Stay with me Darla. Please, stay with me.” Then everything goes black.