Trouble-Maker

Dad stormed out of the room and then returned a minute later. I knew that he had only left my room and gone into the hallway to calm down, but it obviously hadn't worked at all. He stalked back in and smacked his hand down on the bed, missing my leg by just inches.

"How could you get involved with a guy like that?" he shouted, causing me to scoff and roll my eyes, becoming instantly more angry.
"You're such a hypocrite!" I yelled back at him, "Just get out of my face, Dad."

He stood up and glared, not at me, but at the circumstances. "He gets out of this hospital I'm going to put him back in it!" he shouted, throwing his arms out like he couldn't control himself. I saw my step-mother through window and her eyes landed on him, but he was too angry to see the looks she was giving him.

"You won't touch him," I sneered, unable to recognize the man standing in front of me. He'd always been all about family, about taking care of each other, but he didn't even care enough to listen to what I wanted for myself.

"I'm your father and I'll do what I want!" he said back, fuming, "I know more than you, Atticus, and I know these men better! You don't know his past! You don't know anything about what he's been into in his life! You barely know him."

"I know him," I responded, unable to understand his sudden hatred. Ronnie was Epitaph's poster boy, one of the top names and my father had been eager to sign him after his release. "I know him, so don't you ever dare insinuate that I don't. I love him and if you can't understand that, then I don't want hear another word about it."

He pressed back into the space he was occupying, his hand over his mouth, his other on his elbow, his eyes on me. "Now all of a sudden he's more important than your family?" he asked, quieter, but still angry, "You're going to talk to me like this after all I've done for you? I'm your father, the only one you'll ever get."

I looked at him, seeing the same words he'd been spouting since I was a young teenager. It was all about work with him. Ronnie was on the label so that meant Ronnie couldn't be in my life in any grand capacity. It was Ronnie the musician before Ronnie my boyfriend, and I knew wouldn't change. But it was worth a shot. "I'm happy with him," I said, eyes looking at my father's same brown ones, "You don't understand how great I feel when I'm with him, Dad. I'm so fucking happy and I don't even understand it."

"It's called infatuation," he responded sharply, "This is new and so it's the best thing in the world, but when it comes time for him to leave you here, you're going to spend months worrying about his life and what he's doing without you. I watched it in your mother and I've seen it a hundred times before."

"Not all musicians are cheating assholes, you know," I responded, looking him straight in the eye, "There are musicians who have functioning, healthy relationships, so just because you didn't know how to be happy with what you had doesn't mean that you get to tear down what I have with Ronnie. I've never loved anyone before," I said, "Not like this, and I'm terrified that all the things you said to me growing up are going to happen, but I have to trust Ronnie and trust the way I feel about him, and if you would just stop undermining me, and our relationship, I might actually be able to trust myself to make the right decision."

Brett was frowning, eyes stable on me. He shook his head continuously, like he wasn't able to accept what I was saying. "You're making the wrong decision," he said, "Ronnie's the wrong decision. You're going to fuck your life over before you even realize it, Atticus. And I'm not going to stick around and watch it happen."

I couldn't help but tear up as he walked out of my room without looking back at me. I was his daughter, his first, and he left me sitting on my own in a hospital because he didn't approve of who I was dating. I didn't know how to handle being on my own, not here, not with Ronnie somewhere, beaten up and injured. I knew nothing about what happened to him, and instead of helping me, and helping Ronnie, my father walked out and took my family with him.

I pressed the red button on the side of bed and watched through the window until a nurse came in. She smiled politely and came to check my IV. "How are you feeling?" she asked, looking at the cast on my hand.

"I want to be discharged," I replied, ignoring her question completely, "And then I want to know what room my boyfriend is in, because nobody around here can even bother to tell me that he's not dead."

She looked surprised by the outburst. "You can't be discharged until a doctor looks you over again and I'm not sure when he's coming back to do the final check. But, if you tell me the name of your boyfriend, I can go check on him for you and make sure that he's all right."

I stared at her for a moment, not quite happy with the compromise, but willing to take it if it was all that I was going to get. "Okay," I agreed as she set my IV'd hand back down.

"What is his name?" she asked kindly.

"Ronald Radke," I told her. She promised that she would go check on him now and come right back, and I watched as she stepped out of my room and crossed the hall to the nurse's station, relaying the name to another woman, who looked him up on one of the computers.

It was over twenty minutes before she returned, but she smiling, which made me relieved. I doubted that she'd be smiling if she had to tell me that my boyfriend was seriously injured. She stepped up the side of the bed and nodded at me. "He's fine, honey. And dying to see you just as much as you want to see him."

"What's wrong with him?" I asked, knowing that if he was perfectly fine he would've been released already. "He wasn't conscious after we got hit."

Her smile dropped slightly and she relayed the injuries. "His left leg was broken and he has a concussion. Also, two of his ribs on his left side are splintered but he claims that he's perfectly okay and he only wants to see you," the nurse told me, the smile come back to her face, "Sounds like he really loves you. You're a lucky girl."

I nodded, somewhat relieved that she could still get his personality from their one encounter. "I know," I said in reply to her words, "He's something special, all right."

"I'm Candace," she introduced, "If you need something or just want me to go check on Ronnie again for you, just press that button and ask for me. I'll be in shortly after."

"Thank you," I answered, a lot more relieved that I had been when she first came in.

I tried to relax, but it was impossible to get comfortable. My hand was in a bright green cast now and there were little band-aid type things covering the cuts that hadn't needed sutures. Most of me believed Candace when she told me that Ronnie was fine, but the other part couldn't understand how the word 'fine' and that long list of injuries could be in the same sentence at all.

Right then, all I wanted to do was be with Ronnie. To hug him and know for myself that he was fine. They didn't know for sure when they'd discharge me, but I wanted out now. I wanted to go home and take Ronnie with me. I wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.

In the morning, I begged to be released and since I was fine, except for my hand, they let me go. I changed clothes as quickly as I could, out of the gown and into scrubs (since they'd cut my own clothing off of me), and then hurried down to the front desk to demand Ronnie's room number. He was too floors above me.

When I barged into his room, the first thing I saw was him, sleeping, and around him were the guys, each one in a chair of their own. They looked surprised to see me up and moving.

"Atticus," Jacky smiled as he stood up and hugged me, "You okay?"

I nodded, muttering a few reassuring words, and looked over his shoulder as I hugged him. Ronnie was black and blue and bandaged, but he was sleeping and looked lifeless. I had to push away the thought and smiled bravely as I released the slender guitarist.

"He's alright, Atticus," Nasty told me from the other side of Ronnie's bed, "He's just sleeping. They've got him on some pain meds and that shit knocked him out good."

"How long have you been here?" I asked, taking a seat in the chair that one of the guys brought in for me.

"Since last night," Ryan answered, "We came as soon as we heard. We wanted to see you, but we heard your dad was here and figured you might not want us to. But that nurses told us that you were doing alright."

"I'm glad someone's been with him," I answered, understanding why I hadn't known they were here, "And you don't have to worry about running into my dad, he's not here anymore."

The conversation halted as an unfamiliar nurse came in to check his vitals. "He should be waking up soon," she said, looking at the group of us, "The doctor just wanted to make sure he got some decent sleep. He'll get checked out again when he wakes up and then hopefully he'll be able to go home."

I nodded, grateful for the update. "Thank you."

She let the room with a reassuring smile. My foot was bouncing against the linoleum and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. "I want him to wake up," I told the guys.

"So do we, Atticus," Derek said, "But he needs his sleep."

"I know." I glanced up to meet their gazes. "You guys don't mind if ask him to come and stay with me for awhile, do you? I think someone should really be there with him."

The guys all shook their heads, and Mika spoke, "It'll probably be best for him to stay with you, anyway. You can probably take care of him better than any of us can and he'll probably want you around all the time anyway, so there's really no avoiding it."

I chuckled slightly at the bassist's joke and stood up. I pushed the singer's dark hair out of his face and watched him for a moment. It wasn't healthy for me to be so worried when he was only sleeping. "Does anyone want to come with me to get a coffee or something?" I questioned, fingers intertwined with with Ronnie's, "I think I need to take a walk."

Derek, who had been mostly silent, stood up. "I'll go, I kind of need to get out of this room for a bit anyway," he volunteered.

I smiled slightly. "What do you guys want?"

After I got everyone's orders for coffee and snacks, Derek and I wandered down to the basement, where the cafeteria was located. The two of us by-passed the food at first, and slid into a both when we got there. I rested my arms on the table and put my head down.

"I can't believe this," I murmured as Derek patted my back in support. "This is insane," I added, "I just want to go home and take Ronnie with me."

"You can go home and shower if you want, Atticus. We'll call you when he wakes up."

I shook my head. "No," I stated, "I have to stay with him until he gets out."

Derek smiled despite the situation. "You really care about him, huh?"

I nodded as I looked up at him. "It's scary, right? How I can care about him so much already. I mean, it's only been a couple of months and I'm already really attached to him. That's not normal."

Derek shrugged. "I think it's a good thing, Atticus. You two are good together. Who cares if you don't agonize for months over whether or not the other person likes you. You two put it all out there and it worked out. I think that's a good thing."

"I told my dad," I said quickly.

"You what?" Derek questioned. I wasn't sure if he was just shocked or needed me to actually repeat it, but I did either way.

"I told my dad," I said again, "Ronnie wanted me to, and it was a little hard not to, so I just told him. That's why he's not here."

Derek's jaw dropped. "He just left? What did he say about it?" he questioned quickly.

"Quite a bit actually," I responded, replaying the argument, "But basically that I'm being stupid and naïve and that he knows better than me, so by choosing to be with Ronnie, I'm picking him over family and am going to 'fuck up' my life."

Derek looked stunned and unsure of what to say. "You're not fucking up your life," he answered, shaking his head like he was responding to my father, "You're taking a chance on someone you care about. I don't see how he can hold that against you, or walk away from his own daughter."

I shrugged. "He's trying to make a point, I think," I answered, "I chose Ronnie so he's leaving me with him. Brett's a pretty straight-forward guy and I knew that it was coming, but it still hurt pretty bad when he left."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," the guitarist spoke softly, "That was shitty of him."

"I just hope that's the last shitty thing he does," I agreed, "I'm worried that he might cut you from the label, and I know how hard you've all worked for this. You deserve to be on Epitaph and I want my father to separate the band from my relationship, but he obviously doesn't know how to do that, and I'm worried that I'm going to fuck up your lives."

Derek was pretty silent as he digested my fears, but when he spoke, he seemed pretty sure. "We can always try to get on a new label, Atticus. I mean, we're becoming more popular with the kids and when our CD drops it'll intensify, so any label with brains will take us in for the publicity."

"That's practically the same thing Ronnie told me, but it still doesn't make me feel better about my father using your careers as pawns," I muttered.

Derek chuckled and shook his head. "It'll be alright," he said, and slid out of the booth. He waited for me to get up and then grabbed my hand, asking me if it'd be alright if we stopped outside so he could smoke a cigarette.

"Yeah, it's fine," I answered, latching onto his hand as we walked, "I might even need to bum one."

Derek laughed, looking at me like I'd lost it. "You don't smoke, Atticus."

I looked at him and shrugged. "Well," I stated, "Maybe I need to start."