Status: On possible hiatus due to no readers.
My Apocalypse
Head On
The whole band just sat in silence as we rode to our next destination. Derek, Ryan, and Ron were given the whole story about Ronnie's bruises. Luckily, none were visible with the outfit he planned out for tonight's concert. The last thing we need is paparazzi and fans questioning the whole thing. It would just make everything worse––if that was even possible.
Robert and Monte tried calling me. I finally got annoyed and put my phone on silent. I'm sure Max had already told them what happened, they were probably just checking to see if I was okay. Max knew not to bother me, especially when I'm in the mood that I'm in now. Everything in the world just sucked right now. I'm on a bus with three people I barely know, I'm running low on clean clothes (Craig had only thrown one suitcase out of four), and everyone just stares at me like I had punched the freaking Pope.
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do with trash?, that sentence echoed through my head. Trash? How could he think I was trash? I was more angry at Craig than anything. How could he be so mad at me just because I associated with Ronnie? What did he do that was so bad?
Nothing made sense. Max told me Ronnie would never hurt me, so Craig couldn't be worried about that. Ronnie doesn't do drugs anymore; I barely see him smoke a cigarette. So what could it be? Craig can hold a grudge, but usually after a couple days he's fine. It's been three days since he kicked me out. I just don't understand.
Ronnie has also barely touched me since I got kicked out. I mean, we haven't done anything further than kissing, even though it was only once. Usually he hugs me or hold my hand occasionally, but the only time he's been 'affectionate'––for lack of a better word––was earlier as we walked home. I think he felt bad, like he was responsible for me getting kicked out. Which wasn't true at all. It was no one's fault but my own. But, even then I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve any of this.
Derek, Jacky, Ron and Ryan all went out for a drink before tonight's show. Ronnie decided to stay behind with me. I didn't feel like going anywhere. I didn't feel like doing anything but curling up in a ball in the corner and dying.
Ronnie snapped me out of my thoughts as he sat beside me. Our legs touched. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm more mad than anything," I sighed. "How could he think I was trash?"
"You're not trash, Ash," he whispered. "He's trash."
I just nodded slowly. I decided to try my luck by laying my head on his shoulder. Ronnie sighed softly, running his fingers through my hair. Success! I mentally fan-girled. He continued to softly rake his fingers in my hair, sighing contently.
"Your hair is so soft," he mumbled.
"I remember mom would play with my hair to help me sleep," I confessed. Ronnie looked down at me. "Especially when I had nightmares. She'd come into my bedroom and stay with me, playing with my hair until I fell asleep again."
Ronnie hesitated, "What... um... what happened to them?"
I looked up at Ronnie as I sat up. Was I ready to tell him everything? Ronnie just looked at me, he looked worried. I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, smiling weakly. "It's okay if you're not ready, Ash."
"No," I said quickly. "I'm ready,"
Ronnie nodded, turning the television off.
"I was nine, Craig was eighteen. Mom and dad decided to take a couples vacation, so we were staying with our grandmother while they went to Florida for the couples retreat," I paused, bracing myself for the hard part, "On their way home, they got into a car accident on the interstate... head on with an eighteen-wheeler," I sighed, wiping away some tears that escaped. "Our grandma died right after, so Craig took me in as his own..."
Ronnie just hugged me tightly, "I'm so sorry."
"It's fine," I mumbled. "It's been nine years so, you learn to deal with it."
Ryan walked through the door, pointing to the clock, "Gotta go get ready dude,"
"Are you coming to the show? You can come backstage if you don't want to be in the crowd." Ronnie asked as he stood up, stretching.
"Sure, I'll tag along,"
Robert and Monte tried calling me. I finally got annoyed and put my phone on silent. I'm sure Max had already told them what happened, they were probably just checking to see if I was okay. Max knew not to bother me, especially when I'm in the mood that I'm in now. Everything in the world just sucked right now. I'm on a bus with three people I barely know, I'm running low on clean clothes (Craig had only thrown one suitcase out of four), and everyone just stares at me like I had punched the freaking Pope.
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do with trash?, that sentence echoed through my head. Trash? How could he think I was trash? I was more angry at Craig than anything. How could he be so mad at me just because I associated with Ronnie? What did he do that was so bad?
Nothing made sense. Max told me Ronnie would never hurt me, so Craig couldn't be worried about that. Ronnie doesn't do drugs anymore; I barely see him smoke a cigarette. So what could it be? Craig can hold a grudge, but usually after a couple days he's fine. It's been three days since he kicked me out. I just don't understand.
Ronnie has also barely touched me since I got kicked out. I mean, we haven't done anything further than kissing, even though it was only once. Usually he hugs me or hold my hand occasionally, but the only time he's been 'affectionate'––for lack of a better word––was earlier as we walked home. I think he felt bad, like he was responsible for me getting kicked out. Which wasn't true at all. It was no one's fault but my own. But, even then I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve any of this.
Derek, Jacky, Ron and Ryan all went out for a drink before tonight's show. Ronnie decided to stay behind with me. I didn't feel like going anywhere. I didn't feel like doing anything but curling up in a ball in the corner and dying.
Ronnie snapped me out of my thoughts as he sat beside me. Our legs touched. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm more mad than anything," I sighed. "How could he think I was trash?"
"You're not trash, Ash," he whispered. "He's trash."
I just nodded slowly. I decided to try my luck by laying my head on his shoulder. Ronnie sighed softly, running his fingers through my hair. Success! I mentally fan-girled. He continued to softly rake his fingers in my hair, sighing contently.
"Your hair is so soft," he mumbled.
"I remember mom would play with my hair to help me sleep," I confessed. Ronnie looked down at me. "Especially when I had nightmares. She'd come into my bedroom and stay with me, playing with my hair until I fell asleep again."
Ronnie hesitated, "What... um... what happened to them?"
I looked up at Ronnie as I sat up. Was I ready to tell him everything? Ronnie just looked at me, he looked worried. I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, smiling weakly. "It's okay if you're not ready, Ash."
"No," I said quickly. "I'm ready,"
Ronnie nodded, turning the television off.
"I was nine, Craig was eighteen. Mom and dad decided to take a couples vacation, so we were staying with our grandmother while they went to Florida for the couples retreat," I paused, bracing myself for the hard part, "On their way home, they got into a car accident on the interstate... head on with an eighteen-wheeler," I sighed, wiping away some tears that escaped. "Our grandma died right after, so Craig took me in as his own..."
Ronnie just hugged me tightly, "I'm so sorry."
"It's fine," I mumbled. "It's been nine years so, you learn to deal with it."
Ryan walked through the door, pointing to the clock, "Gotta go get ready dude,"
"Are you coming to the show? You can come backstage if you don't want to be in the crowd." Ronnie asked as he stood up, stretching.
"Sure, I'll tag along,"
♠ ♠ ♠
Second update in one day! Woo! I'm on a role. I think their might be a third as well later on... ;)