**** So it took me till the third book but you're finally gonna know just who John Hastings was to Ryker. Yay!! ?

Picture is another example of Ryker maybe, and song fit well with Ryker I think, maybe?

I hope you enjoy. Tell me any suspicions you have before reading if you like :)

I found another song that I think fits really well with Ryker when she was doing drugs and recovering from the abuse, and although I didn't make it obvious for reasons...self-harmed: It's called Cut by Plumb. ****

I had been in rehab for a month now. Leah, Luna, and Echo visited once or twice a week, as often as they could. Sometimes it was all of them, sometimes it was one or two.

When they're not here, Lester is my only savior, my only help. He keeps me grounded.

I'm getting better, the withdrawal is slowly fading.

The first few weeks in here, I had really bad withdrawal, and I got really sick: cold sweats, freezing shivers, really high fever, eyes sunken in and bloodshot from stress.

It was horrible really, a really bad experience. But now, now I'm better.

I haven't gotten sick in weeks, my health is getting better, and my body is slowly going back to a healthy size. I'm gaining back my weight and healing as well as I can.

My arms are scarred, and they will be forever from cuts and injections. But it was, to me, a reminder of what I went through, and how I made it out alive.

The scars stuck out boldly from my pale arms, and it made me uncomfortable to think of all the people seeing it and wanting to probe for a reason, a story behind it.

It was none of their business, but still they pried and prodded.

I shuddered thinking about it, turned my arms over and holding them close to my stomach, hiding them.

He, He was her dream for a while. He acted like He was there to help, like He cared. She grew to trust Him. And then He turned into a nightmare.

I was in group counseling, sitting there in the circle, but I was in a whole nother world, not here with all the others. I was stuck in the past, screaming and sobbing.

Dr. Willows told me that it was all going to get worse if I didn't tell someone about it. He said the longer I kept it inside, the longer I would be in here.

He had to approve me to be safe in the outside world before I could be released. And I wasn't close to that, no way.

I took a deep breath and looked around me with tears in my eyes, looking at everyone around me. I knew some of their stories, but all were strangers. And yet in a way, they were me.

And I realized that if I didn't tell people my story I would unravel more and more until I lost every speck of my sanity.

And then I'd be stuck here forever, or I'd be transferred to another facility.

I would never be free if I let Him have power over me even now, when He was locked away.

I inhaled sharply and stood up abruptly, coughing and clearing my throat.

Everyone turned to look at me and I started to shake under their stares. What now? What was I doing....?

"Ms. Mathews, is there something you'd like to say?" Mr. Evers asked me, and for the first time, I nodded.

"I-Dr. Willows says I have to speak about what happened to me in order to get better" I whispered, and Mr. Evers nodded to me.

"Well, I've been keeping this to myself since I was 15. And I'm nearly 21 now" I said, sitting back down because my legs were shaking so much I couldn't stand, my knees clicking into each other.

"When I was 15, my sisters ex-boyfriend tried to rape her at our house, in front of their child. I was mad, horrified, and I started beating on him, trying to get him away from my sister. I kicked him out of the house and I thought everything would be okay.

But I was arrested the next day because I nearly put him in a coma. My sister wouldn't come forward about what happened, so they thought I was lying. I was also charged with the use and sale of narcotics, though I never sold them, that was a lie.

I went to a juvenile detention center that specialized with drug-using juveniles and rehabilitation for 'troubled teens'.

And that's where I met Him. He worked there. He seemed so great at first, He told me He believed my story, and He acted like He wanted to help me, get me out.

He said He liked that I was brash and didn't take crap from the other kids there. Liked that I had spirit.

I didn't know then, but He wanted to break me. I was a challenge to Him, a wild horse for Him to break in and tame.

I started to trust Him.

Then He showed me who He really was. Not nice, not helpful. He was a nightmare disguised as a dream.

He started to rape me, and at first He would beat me to keep me quiet. Then He did it just for fun; He got off at the sight of me in pain.

I mustered up all the courage I had tried to tell someone, but they didn't believe me. And He hurt about it and beat me more. He broke my leg in such a way that the bone never healed right and it still hurts even now.

This went on for 2 years. I was completely under his control, and I never told anyone because I knew they wouldn't believe me. I was convinced that no one would believe me.

Going to jail was a dream; surely He couldn't get to me in there. And so I spent 2 years in prison, 'free' from Him, but not really.

He haunted me with the memories, the thought of Him kept me up at night and tortured me.

My case was reopened and the judge changed her decision, and all of sudden I was let out.

For a while it was good. I met some people, toured with them. I got close with some people, fell in love.

But just like that, He found me. He was back. And it was just like juvy-He got to me. I was under His control, completely defenseless.

He threatened to hurt my friends, He raped and beat me every night.

One of my friends started to notice, and started asking questions. But I couldn't tell him, I couldn't, or else He would go after him!

And then, He was gone. I met where He arranged every night, but He didn't come.

It terrified me more to have Him gone, because I had no idea what He was planning, and I was scared, I didn't know what to do.

I started letting my guard down, let the guy that I loved get closer to- too close.

He came back, He put two of my best friends in the hospital, including the guy I loved, He hit him with a car"

The whole room was silent, listening to me, but I couldn't go on.

I lay my face in my hands and started crying, all the memories free and flowing through my head, every one of them showing from the backs of my eyes, playing over and over again.

"You don't have to go on...." Mr. Evers said, but I sniffled and shook my head, putting my hands in my lap.

"I have to. It's the only way I can get out of here" I said, rubbing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

"He took me and hid me in a forest trapped underground in a pit. There, I couldn't escape. I hardly ate, barely drank, and He beat me every night, sneering at me about how He killed my friends.

After 4 and a half months, so the doctors told me, I managed to escape, stabbing Him with the glass from the single lightbulb he had for me, hanging from the ceiling. I trapped Him in there and ran until I passed out.

I woke up at the hospital and my friends found me.

They urged me to come forward about it, so after 5 years of keeping silent, I came forward. I went to court and the initial verdict was that He was non-guilty, but they changed their minds after more evidence was surfaced.

So he's in prison, and I'm 'free' " I did air quotations, sighing.

"But every night, every day I relive it, and I'm still terrified of Him, even though he's behind bars" I finished, leaning back in my seat.

Did I just pour out my story to 20 strangers?

Yes. Yes I did.

I felt shaky and stupid, but I also felt as if a weight had been lifted from my chest, like the dumbbell that had been chained to my heart, weighing down, and dragging it down had been detached. I felt like for the first time I could truly breathe.

I just wish it had been Ronnie I had told, not these people. He had been in court, but I had made sure that no one said it out loud, except when we met privately, so Ronnie had no idea exactly who He was.

Ronnie.....

He wouldn't want to know now, wouldn't listen to me after what I had done to him.....

"Who was he?" a voice piped up, and I looked up from my hands, looking past everyone, back into my past.

"He was my psychologist in the correctional center."