So Lock And Load, Mercenaries

The riff from a song blares through my eardrums, and my first reaction is to swear at the person who put it on, until I realise the tinny, blurry excuse for 'Rock and Roll All Night' by Kiss, is blaring from my phone, and it's my current ringtone.

It takes me until Gene Simmons starts singing to wake up properly and fumble onto the beside table to find my phone.

I flip it open with my eyes still scrunched up against the light, "Hello?"

"Lily? Shit, did I wake you?" Becky's voice sounds a little worried, but I hear a little bit of laughter strung behind it.

"Kinda..." I say, my voice rough from disuse through the night, "What time is it?"

"Kinda? How can I kinda wake you up?" Becky asks, something she's always picky about.

"You just did... what time is it?"

"Just gone twelve... midday." She says, almost patronising since she knows I'm stupid when I wake up.

I sit up bolt straight and almost drop the phone, "What? Ugh. I was supposed to be up ages ago." I throw back the covers and stumble since my limbs feel like jelly and between my legs is aching horribly.

Becky sighs, but somehow I know it's a happy one and she's smiling, "Come on, up you get."

"I'm up... I'm up..." I call hoarsely down the phone, scrunching my eyes up and shaking my head to clear the wooliness of sleep, "Why did you ring anyway?"

"I rang?" Becky questions, "Oh... yeah, I did. Another sleepover tonight babes? Same time as last?"

I smiled.

"Of course."

I hang up, crawl back into bed, and groan into my pillow, feeling the freshness wash up my nose, and I almost fall back to sleep again. There's a small knock at the door, and when I make some sort of noise the door clicks open and Craig appears, holding a plastic tray laden with what looks like breakfast.

"Craig?" I mumble hoarsely.

"Breakfast Lily..." He says, closing the door quietly with his foot and smiling at me.

"Thank you love..." I say, rolling on my back and propping myself up against two or three pillows.

I see Craig sit next to me, in a pair of skinny jeans, black etnies, and nothing else, and his skin looks an almost sickly colour. I almost feel slightly ashamed, and I don’t know why.

He sets the tray on my lap and I see its holding two pieces of toast, a bowl of cereal and a latte, with extra milk and plenty of sugar, what I always have when we have breakfast in bed.

He pulls me against him with one arm around my shoulders, as I pull apart the crusts from my toast, and place them in my mouth, a tiny bit at a time, chewing them thoughtfully.

"Last night Lily..." Craig says into my hair, squeezing my shoulders.

"Craig... I'm so sorry, I was just so tired..."

"I mean... yeah..." Craig says, and I get the feeling I'm not the only one in the conversation who doesn't know what he's saying.

"I love you Lily, I just need you to know that."

I turn and place a hand on each of his cheeks, "I know, Craig, I know. You don't need to show me."

I get the feeling he's so dependant on me. I think he's picked up on the fact they're other guys out there, and he's being far too protective of me, and I feel so claustrophobic and trapped.

And I know there's one person who can help me out, and he's coming tonight, in more ways than one.

"Are you up for another sleepover thing tonight Craig?" I say, tilting my head up towards him and kissing his cheek to attract his attention, since he's staring off into space.

"Huh? Yeah, sure." He smiles, and kisses my lips briefly, looking down into my eyes.

I don’t feel the warmth I did when Ronnie turned and stared at me yesterday, I don't feel the warmth spread from his smile to mine, and I suddenly feel guilty, cold and sad all at once.

Craig sits with me whilst I eat, making small talk, and I force him to eat half of it, feeling bad that I'm eating and he's not. He takes the tray from me, kisses me briefly again, and takes the tray downstairs.

I reach over to my phone, flip it open and start writing a new message.

"I need you." I mutter to myself, inaudible, as I text, "Send to," I flick through the phonebook to my most recent names, "Ronnie."

I hit send and thirty seconds later I get a message back, the monotonous bleep making me grab for my phone before Craig comes back.

"Save it for tonight," I read, "At the sleepover. I want you." The text finishes with two kisses and I smile, telling myself I can wait that long for Ronnie against me, and I'm not some sort of addict.

I nod to myself for reassurance, and snap my phone shut, throwing the covers back and standing. I scratch my head and stretch from my toes to my fingers, smiling as I do so, stretching in the morning one of my favourite feelings. I run my hands through my hair and decide on a shower, dodging through into the adjoining bathroom and pulling the cord so the shower springs to life.

I study my reflection, see my shining eyes and luminous skin, all thanks to Ronnie, the opposite of a week or two ago, pale, dirty skin and dull, lifeless eyes. I make a mental note to thank him.

I strip off my boyshorts and hop into the shower, relishing the warm water cascade over me. I start subconsciously humming a song, and it takes me a few seconds before I realise what, and I smile.

"All in the name of rock ’n’ roll, for sex and sex I’d sell my soul."

I suppose you could call me a sex addict, but that'd imply I'd hump everything that moved, when, really, I'm just a Ronnie Radke addict, the worst kind.

I contemplate the idea as I wash my hair, face and body, and decide as I'm towelling dry, that I am a self confessed Radke addict, and I wasn't going to do a damn thing about it, it was far too fun.

I smile and wrap the towel round my torso, wrapping a strand of hair round my finger absent mindedly as I kneel down and find the hairdryer. I dry my hair and carry on singing Motley Crue, before finding my clothes for tonight and laying them out on the bed to check they go together, a habit of mine.

A black pleated skirt, and a black tank top, studded belt slung low on my hips, and fishnet footless tights, black of course. I smile as I pull them on along with my best underwear and bra, not bothering with hair and makeup for the time being, slipping my feet into pink furry slippers that don’t exactly go with my outfit, and trudging down the stairs.

Should I feel guilty about Craig?

I mean, I just wasn't attracted to him like I was to Ronnie, should I feel guilty?

He was so sweet, I knew that, I know that, but the flame wasn't there, still.

Should I try?

See if it works?

I was tearing up inside, twisting my necklace through my fingers, feeling it pull at the back of my neck. Should I, shouldn't I?

I didn't know, and it was fucking me up.

I really felt like running back to bed and curling up for another 6 hours until the sleepover, where I can forget about everything in Ronnie's arms. I rub my eyes as I reach the bottom of the stairs and my face falls into a sad expression. I snap it back to a smile and run my hands through my fringe as I push open the living room door.

I sit next to Craig, who looks at me appreciatively, and places his hand on my thigh, squeezing a little. I smile and lean into his bare chest as he wraps his other arm round my shoulders.

"You look nice." He says softly into my hair, and I find myself comparing him to Ronnie again.

Ronnie says I'm hot, says I'm sexy, says I'm incredible.

To Craig, I'm nice, cute, and pretty.

I couldn't help thinking who was the better here, and I suddenly feel sick at what I'm doing. I can't bring myself to say anything to Craig, it would tear him up, and for all I know, this could be my sexual frustration of mine and Craig's dry spell forcing itself out. In another week, for all I know, this could be fixed and I could've saved everyone from a disaster.

I lean against Craig and try not to think, concentrating on the television and the episode of Sally Jessy Raphael.

"Why are you watching this Craig?" I murmur softly.

He shrugs, "I can't find the remote and I can't be bothered to change it or anything."

I watch as a couple that've been married for a little over six months storm onto the stage, sit as far apart as possible, and an arguement ensues, screaming and shouting.

I figure it’s the fact everything's got boring in the relationship, and I feel a horrible sinking feeling.

I shuffle a little further away from Craig, hoping he doesn't notice.

It's all too close to home for me, too close for comfort.

"What's up Lily?" Craig says, his hand tugging on my shoulder, pulling me back towards him.

"Nothing, nothing. I just feel a little sick..." I murmur, pulling away again, and I can't help remembering that's the first excuse Ronnie and I used, "I might go and lie down upstairs, so I'm feeling okay for tonight."

Craig's expression instantly changes to worried and he bites his lip, "We don't have to go tonight you know, if you're feeling ill." I stop him and insist on going, but he's on full auto-waffle now, "Let me get you a drink, cup of coffee, glass of water? Just lie down here, I'll find a blanket."

He's buzzing about now, and I'm forced to lie on the two seated uncomfortable leather sofa that's god knows how old, with a blanket over my shoulders, a cup of coffee and a glass of water by my side.

I find myself closing my eyes to get away from this all, and before I realise, Craig is knelt in front of me, face inches away, "Lily? Wake up love..."

"Huh? Was I asleep?" I ask groggily, and Craig smiles, reaching forward to brush a few bangs out my eyes.

"Yeah, you were. You were right; those days looking after your Aunt are taking it out of you..."

My eyebrows furrow for a second, and in my half asleep stupid state, I almost argue, almost ask why I'm looking after an aunt, which one, why, until I realise it's a lie, and shut up, fast.

"Yeah." I murmur, my voice hoarse, smiling a little at Craig.

"Come on Lily," He says, helping me up with a hand under my arms, "It's half past six, I let you sleep, you should get ready for tonight?"

I get the feeling he's patronising me, and I feel embarrassed again. I force myself to sit up, and throw my legs back onto the floor, watching as Craig stands up and pulls me with him.

I feel like telling him I'm not a child, I don’t need looking after.

I feel like telling him everything.

I don’t, I keep my mouth shut as I traipse up the stairs and into our bedroom. I find my makeup and hair stuff, placing them next to me on the desk as I study my reflection. It takes me a few seconds, still asleep, before I pick up my concealer and foundation and cover my face in the milky white liquid, making it flawless and pale, contrasting with my hair and eyes. I find my charcoal eyeliner and scrawl a thick line on my upper and lower lid, so my face contrasts even more.

I don’t do too much to my hair, backcombing but not filling it with product, since I don’t want to end up with sex hair at four in the morning, it'll be suspicious to say the least.

I grab my bag, a pair of shorts and a top that doesn't quite reach my stomach, along with a change of clothes, spare eyeliner and my foundation. I think about taking a condom, but I know we'll just forget about it, so I shrug my shoulders and just wander to my bedside table, digging through it to the back, to my contraceptive pills, kept well hidden from Craig, girl things, Craig didn't deal well with them.

I make sure I put them at the bottom of my bag, and remind myself to take one tomorrow morning. I remember I didn't take this mornings and swear under my breath, digging the packet back out and swallowing one without water, before placing them back.

I smile at my reflection and swing my bag onto my shoulder, jogging down the stairs to find Craig, putting away the finished washing up.

"Are you going to get ready Craig?" I ask, making him turn towards me as he finishes putting away the last plate.

He turns and smiles, "Sure." He looks me up and down, "You look nice."

"Thanks." I say, kissing his cheek, "I'll finish this, go grab your stuff."

"Alright love." He says, and I hear his Enties on the stairs a few seconds later. I sigh, a little happy, looking forward to tonight. I put away the cutlery around the kitchen, until I hear Craig yell that he's ready.

I walk into the hallway to find him grabbing his keys from the table and opening the door, "Ready?"

"Sure." I say, smiling, and following him from the door.

He doesn't take my hand, but wraps his arm round my shoulder, protective again. It's horribly uncomfortable, but I don’t move, for fear of upsetting him, and just set my lips in a tight line and walk a little faster.

We reach Becky's to music again, and I smile as she pulls open the door and rushes us in. We're one of the first here, excluding Danny, Cathy, Zacky and Jake.

I greet everyone and feel my heart sink to my stomach when I'm not greeted with Ronnie. I settle next to Craig on a sofa and he wraps an arm round me again, but I don’t stop him.

We watch a trickle of people enter the room, the usual gang, minus two or three people, Ronnie, Jen and Rou.

I ask casually who else is coming, and Becky looks at me strangely, "Ronnie, Jen and Rou, of course. It wouldn't be right without them!"

I reply with a nod and a smile and shuffle a little away from Ronnie. I see a couple pass the window and its Jen and Rou, knocking on the door a few seconds later and greeting us loudly, I get the feeling they're already a bit drunk.

I wait and wait, staring at the window, until I see black skinnies jeans, messy hair, pale skin, and my body lurches. The doorbell rings and I resist jumping up and opening it myself. Ronnie enters the room behind Becky and I feel my body ache again. I keep eye contact with him long enough to convey my thoughts, not long enough to arouse suspicions. He settles on the same chair arm as before and greets everyone, and I sense the hidden emotions under his greeting to me.

He sounds almost stony, and I realise it's because Craig has his arm round me, and I'm his. I try to show Ronnie that I'm sorry, and I'm his and I'll do anything for him, smiling just a little as all eyes avert to the film.

I can't wait until tonight.