In the Devil's Company

Ronnie was still, standing in a stiff position behind me, as if he were waiting for something. I drew in sharp, jagged breaths solely so that I could appease my lungs. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be breathing right now.

How could I? Ronnie was clearly planning on doing something…but what? He wasn’t drunk, so surely it wouldn’t come to that. Ronnie couldn’t be a violent person…it was the alcohol that did that to him. It had to be.

His fingers began to trail across my bare arms until he reached my wrists. A layer of goose bumps covered my flesh from the cool, iciness of his touch. Suddenly, his grip tightened around my wrists and he spun me around so that I was facing him. We were close enough to be in a considerably intimate position; however, I strongly believe that is just about the last thing on his mind right about now.

“What did you tell that bastard in the kitchen?” he demanded, eyes narrowing. He glanced down at my semi-exposed stomach, insuring that I knew exactly what he was referring to.

“I-I just told him it was an accident on my part…slipped on a treadmill,” I mumbled, staring over his shoulder at a stain that had just recently appeared on the carpet.

“You wanna know something? That’s at the bottom of the list of reasons why I’m so fucking pissed right now,” he growled.

I felt some sort of instantaneous urge to be defiant and angry at him myself because I think the next topic on his ‘list’ had to do with my brother visiting. “Oh, please, Ronnie enlighten me,” I spat.

I watched as his eyes flickered with a brief urge to take advantage of our uncomfortable close positioning and attack me right then and there. But he resisted. “You didn’t tell me your brother was coming. In case you forgot, Claire, two people live in this house and you can’t just do whatever the hell you want without consulting me.”

I laughed…I simply couldn’t resist. “Do you know what the word ‘surprise’ means, Ronnie? That’s what that was today. I didn’t know they were coming!”

“Regardless, do you think I wanted to sit there with them for an hour until you got your ass home?”

Now it was my turn to become entirely pissed. “How dare you even think about complaining, you asshole! I put up with your friends and your lowlife lifestyle without complaining, and yet you have the nerve to bitch about an hour of visiting?”

Apparently, he didn’t quite enjoy being challenged. His actions became rather slow, calculated. He lifted his arms up and draped them behind my neck like he was going to pull me in for a kiss. Just as he felt my shoulders droop with less tension, he seized the moment and wrapped his fingers around the base of my neck, lunging me to the right and shoving me into the wall.

I groaned as my forehead made direct contact with the drywall. A thin trail of blood ran along the side of my face before dripping onto my chest. Dizziness began to take its effect as I raised a hand to my head to steady myself.

“You do not use that tone with me. I give you everything and you treat me like this?” he shouted.

“Do you really think that this,” I asked, pointing to the gash in my forehead, “is 'giving me everything?'”

He glared at me for a while before he decided to just have a go at it. He laughed bitterly. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

He gripped my shoulders, pulling me forward slightly before slamming me back into the wall. A sharp pain made its way up and down my spine, distracting me from anticipating his next move.

His fingers quickly balled up into a fist before the knuckled surface made contact with my eye at full speed. I cried out as I began sliding down the wall. My head was throbbing and my body was shaking with complete shock.

Alcohol couldn’t be my scapegoat anymore. Violence was truly a part of him. And you would think that in realizing that fact, I would back down and try to please him until he left me alone…but I couldn’t let myself do that. This needed to stop.

My fingers ran along the wall as I slowly pulled myself back up to eyelevel. “Fuck you,” I growled, raising my arm and slapping the palm of my hand as hard as I possibly could across his face, savoring the sound of skin-to-skin contact.

A large red handprint quickly formed, as his head remained cocked slightly to the side. At first, I thought that maybe, just maybe, it was enough to bring him back to reality and realize what he’s doing to his wife. But then again…it was Ronnie I was referring to. I was stupid to hope for anything like that.

His actions were deathly calm, unnaturally calm. “Clearly,” he grinned, “you don’t know your place.”

I was about to unleash some verbal venom in response to that implausible statement, but he was faster. His arm sprung forward as all five of his fingers constricted tightly around my throat. He managed to lift my feet slightly up off the ground as he carried me toward the stairs to the basement. What the hell was he up to?

My legs weakly tried to stay attached to the ground, but somehow he was stronger…or maybe it was his will that was lending him some strength, because I’ve never seen Ronnie lift anything heavier than a guitar amp before.

“Guess what, baby? I got you a present,” he sneered, lifting me further up off the ground, “It’s a one-way ticket to hell.”

Shards of oxygen pierced my throat as my body flew forward down into the darkened hole, screaming my lungs out. I grunted in pain as my body met the ground, fourteen stairs below Ronnie. My elbows and knees took the brunt of the blow as I tumbled forward across the rough unfinished concrete floor. I felt a little bit of liquid crawl its way across the scraped skin on my arms and legs. Great, I’m bleeding.

I crawled over to a stack of boxes that was within a decent reach. My fingers, shaking, latched onto the edge of one of the cardboard boxes, probably containing some Christmas decorations or old pictures. My legs were incredibly wobbly as I bit my way through the pain and forced myself to stand up on my feet.

Gently, I took a couple of steps forward one by one and gauged the damage. Good news is…I can walk. Bad news is…I think I have a limp. The rest of my body suffered a few cuts and bruises as well from the fall, so I decided to go back upstairs and grab a Tylenol.

I sucked the pill down almost hungrily, so desperate to make this pain go away. Or, maybe I was hoping it took care of emotional pain, as well. Regardless of what magical powers the tiny pills had, I figured it would be best to just go to bed and try to sleep away my misery.

It was only 7 PM, and Ronnie had abandoned the house.

Just as I was drifting into the security and refuge of a dream, my phone began ringing and vibrating on the nightstand next to my head. I lifted my head up at the sudden noise then slammed it right back into the pillow.

I really was not in the mood to talk to anyone currently, but whoever the hell it was, they were persistent. Had to call three whole times before I finally caved in. “Hello?” I answered.

“Claire! Are you okay? How come you didn’t answer before?” Matt asked frantically.

“Of…course I’m ok, Matt. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sighed loudly. “Look, I know what’s gone on between you and Ronnie recently…the bruises and all. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be with him anymore.”

I felt almost every ounce of saliva had evaporated instantly after hearing those words. All this time I’d worked toward protecting anyone else from having this burden, and now Matt’s taking it on full charge. I don’t want all this attention on me. If it gets to the point where I truly can’t handle it anymore, then I could leave on my own…right?

“Thanks for your concern, bro. But I’m not a little kid anymore, I can handle myself.”

“If that’s the case,” he retorted, “then why haven’t you done yourself a favor and left yet?”

It took a few moments of silence before I was able to develop an answer. “Because…I was hoping he would change.”

“Oh, Claire,” Matt said sympathetically. “I know that you may have loved Ronnie at some point, and maybe you still do, but if he truly loved you back, he wouldn’t be tormenting you like this. This isn’t love.”

“What am I supposed to do, Matt?” I cried, finally allowing the dams to break and the tears to fall past my eyes.

“D-don’t worry about a thing, okay? Me and the guys…we’ll figure something out. Just trust me.”

Matt sounded so completely confident that it almost made all my worries disappear. I believed him. Matt’s never let me down before, and I’m willing to bet that he’s not ready to start.

“You don’t know how much this means to me, Matt.”

*Brian’s POV*

It’s been two fucking days now, and ever since Matt told everyone about Claire’s domestic problems, no one has wanted to party or have any fun. Just because she was suffering sure as hell didn’t mean that we had to be.

I didn’t bother announcing where I was going after getting off the bus and heading downtown. We were back in California now, so it’s not like I wasn’t entirely familiar with the surroundings or anything crazy like that. I didn’t really feel like fancy cuisine right now, so I decided to slide into a small family owned restaurant on the corner of the block.

As I waited for the hostess to seat me, an amusing thought entered my mind. Wouldn’t it be funny if I could convince some random guy in this room to pose as some superman to get Claire away from Ronnie and take everyone’s minds off her poor unfortunate situation? My eyes scanned the room, searching for some kind of guy that I could picture seeming good enough for Matt’s little sister.

Most of the men in the diner were with significant others, except for one sitting in a darker corner, completely alone. Fuck the hostess; I think I just found myself an open seat.

Now, I assure you I am 100% straight, which is why it felt weird scoping the place for a “hot guy,” but this dude really fit the job, and trust me, that’s a difficult thing for me to admit. And what made the deal even better was that he’s been on TV.

I grabbed a menu off the stack and strolled over to the booth. “Hey, aren’t you that one guy from that show?” I asked, sliding into the open portion.

He laughed, “That wasn’t vague at all. Name’s Ian.” He extended a hand and a smile.

I nodded, “Nice to meet you. I’m Brian, but you may know me as Synyster Gates, of Avenged Sevenfold.”

“Thought you looked familiar. Nice music, by the way.”

We chatted on and off like that for about a half hour, pausing once our food arrived.

“So, what’s the real reason you sat down here? I don’t think it was because the line was too long,” he addressed.

I smirked, “Nice detective work there. How about a…business proposal?”

Ian glanced around before leaning forward, clearly interested. “What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked suspiciously.

I leaned back comfortably in the booth, taking a bite of my burger. “The singer of my band has been terribly distracted lately – his little sister is in a bit of a situation and needs a way out. I don’t really give a fuck how she gets out of it, it just need it to be done…by someone of your high qualifications, I may add.”

Ian laughed a little, probably not expecting what I had to say. “Wow…I may actually consider, but I gotta ask what exactly ‘qualifies’ me?”

I shrugged, “You’re obviously an attractive guy, which should be more than enough to satisfy Claire. Now all we need is the motive.”

“It’s funny that you bring all this up because I was just about to open a new art gallery at some property I recently attained…I could use all the help I could get.”

This seriously could not get any easier. “You’re kidding?! Claire’s an artist! How perfect…now it won’t look weird for her to just suddenly leave with you,” I grinned. He extended his hand across the table and I shook it in return.

“I suppose we have a deal then.”

Ian and I talked for a little while longer before I left to tell Matt the good news. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let an opportunity like this pass by, which meant I didn’t care if Matt approved or not. He will call Claire and tell her the news. Then once she’s shipped off to wherever Ian lives we won’t have to worry about her ever again.

It’s the next best thing to do besides killing her, of course.