I sat on one of the tables, staring at the dead man in front of me.

What am I doing?

I'm so stupid.

This is going to make things worse. Killing these men, holding others hostage, I'm just going to get it worse than I already did.

And why did I ask for Ricky? I don't even know him. I don't know what he looks like, or sounds like, or anything. I should have asked for the treatments to stop. I don't know what I thought Ricky would do. Is Ricky even real? Are they even going to be able to find him? Is he even real?

I toyed with the gun in my hands. The desire to put it to my head and pull the trigger was greater than ever. I could do it. It would be so easy.

"Chris?" I heard. I looked up, jumping up from where I was sitting. "It's me. Can you open the door? Please?"

"What?" I said, stepping towards the door.

I looked through the window on the door. A man stood there. He had long black hair and bright blue eyes rimmed with black eyeshadow. He wore a pair of skin-tight jeans, a black shirt, and a long coat.

"It's Ricky. Open the door. You wanted to see me." He said softly. He stood a few feet from the door, staring at me through the glass.

That's Ricky? That's what he looked like, what he sounded like? He was gorgeous. He was like a dark angel of some sort.

"He doesn't love you anymore."

"He never loved you."

I shook my head, ignoring the voices. "I-Is there anyone with you?"

"No. I'm alone. I promise."

I kept the gun in my hand, pushing the table out of the way just enough for him to enter. He stepped inside and looked up at me.

I just stared at him. I didn't know what to do. He doesn't know that I don't remember him.

He put his hand on mine and I jumped.

"It's okay." He whispered. "Just give me the gun."

I couldn't take my eyes away from his. I loosened my grip and let him take it away.

He didn't say anything for a moment.

He reached up and pushed my hair out of my face. "Are you okay?"

"I-I...I don't remember you..."

I watched as the look in his eyes turned from soft and gentle, to cold and icy. "What do you mean? You wanted me. You said you wouldn't open that door until I was here."

"I-I know. I just- I-I-- I know your name. It makes me feel safe. I don't know you though."

"Why am I here then?" He snapped. "What the hell do you mean you don't fucking remember me?"

I swallowed hard, still unable to tear my eyes away from his. "Please. Don't get mad. I'll tell you. Just-just sit. Please."

He let out a long breath, eventually sitting at one of the tables. I sat across from him and just stared at him for a second.

"Th-the doctor. She did something, I-I don't remember anything." I whispered. "It's not just you. It's everything. I don't know who I am or why I'm even here. I need help. And I thought you could help me."

"What did she do? And how can I help you?" He asked. "And how is it you remember my name, but nothing else?"

"The voices...They say your name a lot. And whenever I think of your name, I feel safe and calm. I thought you could help."

"Voices? Chris, what are talking about?" He asked. I could hear the alarm in his voice. "What did she do?"

"I don't really know. But it hurts. She calls them treatments."

"And what goes on during these "treatments?"" He asked.

"She takes me into a room and she has guards strap me to a table and then she puts something on my head and then it just hurts. I can't see, can't hear. It just hurts- It burns. Sometimes she sedates me, but when she doesn't..." I told him quietly. "I just want it to stop. Help me."

He looked angry. "And that's why you don't remember anything? And what were you saying about voices?"

"He doesn't believe you."

"They tell me to do things. Sometimes they tell me to do things to myself. Sometimes they tell me to kill people....They're saying you don't believe me."

Ricky just stared at me.

He suddenly stood up and walked towards door.

"Wait!" I called, grabbing his arm.

He didn't turn back around. I could see his reflection in the glass; black lines ran down his cheeks.

"Please help me."

He spun around fast, pulling away my from grasp.

"How am I supposed to help you, Chris? Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to be here? I'm trying to forget about you and- and then you take hostages just so you can see me to tell me that you have no fucking idea who I am." He spat. "Do you have any idea what you did to me? You went to prison and it fucking broke me. I tried get away from it all and I just ended up getting myself deeper into this shit. And now I'm here, listening to you beg me for help! I can't fucking help you, Chris! I fucking hate you for what you did to me!"

We both stayed silent for a while.

He hates me? I don't even know what I did to him. But I did something. He says I did.

"We told you..."

It felt like hours before he broke eye contact and looked down at the floor. He ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that..." He breathed. "I'm just- I'm just tired and confused and stressed out, okay? You're not making sense and I'm not sure how I can help you. Sit down and tell me again."

I sat down at the table. Ricky sat across from me.

"I don't remember really anything, other than the treatments. I don't know who I am or who you are. Only your name and the way it makes me feel. The treatments hurt. I did this so they'd stop. I just want them to stop. Th-they usually keep me locked away, by myself, but they decided they wanted to see how I act around other people. I think they got their answer..." I said softly. "I'm .scared. I don't want the treatments to keep happening. You have to help me."

Ricky stated silent for a few minutes. He seemed to be thinking. "I'll talk to your lawyer. I'll see if there's anything he can do. I'll talk to the warden. I'll talk to the people I know. I'll get you out of here, Chris. I promise."

"Thank you." I said, putting my hand on top of his.

He smiled at me.

"Why am I here?"

He sighed. "You're in here because someone framed you."

"Why?"

"Because you were in his way. He faked his death and he needed someone to take the fall for it. So you did, even though you had an alibi...They were going to give you death, but you paid off the judge so you got 10 years."

"Oh."

Ricky nodded.

"Who am I?"

"You're...powerful. You have the biggest drug empire on this side of the country. Even with you gone, they're still going strong. You're like a god. People fear you..."

"I was a drug dealer?"

"No. You are a drug lord. You're a king. And I'm going to make sure you get everything back."

"You said people fear me. Did you?"

Ricky shook his head. "No. I was never afraid of you. I hated you with ever fiber of my being in the beginning, but then I fell for you, hard."

"Do you still care for me?"

"Yes."

"We're you a dealer?"

He laughed softly. "No. No, I was a prostitute. I met you through my dealer, Kuza-"

"Michael." I said fast, cutting him off. "I know that name."

"Yes. Mike. He was my dealer. One night I went to go see him, and you were there. The two of you were arguing about something. You saw me and you basically beat the shit out of me."

"I did?"

He nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. It was years ago."

We sat in silence for a few. I could see tears in Ricky's eyes.

He stood up and walked around to my side. He put his hand on my cheek and leaned down. He gently pressed his lips to my own, pulling back after a moment.

"I'm going to go make sure the treatments stop."

I nodded.

He walked towards the door.

"I love you." I whispered.

I watched as he stopped short. He took a deep breath, looking down at the floor. "I-...I know."

———————

sorry this took like a million years. i haven't had time to write much lately.

comment what you think is gonna happen

~xxLux