I Always Hated Secrets.

I woke up in the morning, expecting to be in Bob's safe arms, but was disappointed to see he wasn't lying there beside me.

Poking my head out of the bunk, and taking a quick look around, I noted that no body was awake yet. That's an advantage, I guess. I won't have to deal with Ray this way.

I yawned and stretched out, spreading my hands out on the pillow beside me. I heard the crumple of paper, and my ears perked up.

I grabbed the paper and looked at it, instantly smiling, seeing as it was Bob's curly, cursive handwriting.

Frankie,

Good morning! I just went out to go get some coffee, and I have no clue where the hell we are, so I might be a while. When I left, no one was up, so when you get up no one will probably be up either. Anyways, I hope you had a good sleep, you deserved it.

Love,
Bob xoxo.

The note instantly made me feel so much better, because Bob just had that effect on me. I wonder if it's possible for me to fall out of love with Gerard, and into love with Bob?

I slowly slipped out of the bunk, and tip toed over to the washroom, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The pain had really subsided, and I was feeling a lot better this morning, but there was still a slight burning in my butt, every time I walked.

Side affects of rape, I guess.

I walked into the washroom, and sat on the edge of the sink. Images of last night flooded into my mind. The blood. The kiss. Gerard threatening Ray, when he was all beat up.

I gasped, and my eyes widened in realization. Gerard beat the shit out of Ray!

He did that for me? But why? Why was he so affected about this?

I was so confused, but pushed all my thoughts to the side and decided to take a shower, while waiting for Bob to come back with the coffee.

I slowly rid myself of all clothing and looked at myself in the mirror, grimacing at what I saw.

My eyes were sunken in, and my whole face had a red tint to it. There was a cut on my right temple, and my lip was busted. I also had a black eye.

Furrowing my eyebrows in puzzlement, I thought back on the night again. Ray didn't hit me in the face, did he?

How did I get these marks on my face?

I cleared my throat slightly and groaned. It hurt to even fucking clear it.

Small tears formed in my eyes as my eyes drifted down the mirror, towards my neck.

My neck was adorned with a large bluish black bruise in the shape of hand. There were small curved cuts littered across the skin protecting my throat, from where Ray put so much force that his nails punctured my skin.

I lifted my hand and gingerly touched the bruise. I whimpered slightly, it stung so bad.

Even thinking about when Ray was choking me, my throat started to close up and it felt like he was doing it all over again.

My breathing became really ragged and shallow, and I clawed at my throat, ignoring the immense pain that was shooting through out my head and shoulders.

I tried to open the door of the wash room, but I couldn't. My hands were shaking so bad, and I broke into uncontrollable sobs.

I heard feet shuffling on the other side of the door and I whimpered out a weak cry for help.

The door opened, to reveal Ray.

My eyes widened and I backed up, pushing my feet out to try and trip him or something.

He cackled and something sparked in his eyes, and I could see it.

It wasn't sympathy. It was evil.

"Hyperventilating, Frankie?" He asked, his voice rough from sleep.

I didn't respond, but continued to sob, wracking my brain for any idea on how to get the fuck out of this wash room before he does anything to me.

Before I could think or react what so ever, Ray had winded his fist back and punched me square in the face.

He kept punching me, over and over and over.

I couldn't see anything, I couldn't say anything, and I could barely hear anything.

Then everything stopped, and he wasn't punching me anymore. I heard muffled voices, and the last thing I heard was a loud crash.

Then the darkness took over, and I fell head first into it.