***Trigger warnings for mentions of a pedophile, mentions of extreme violence leading to death, and mentions of attempted sexual assault, suicidal thoughts, thoughts of self harm, and slight(?) gore. The riot itself will not be explicitly written out. Message me if you need a summary if you don't feel comfortable reading. Do NOT force yourself to read this if you can't.***

Wait to start the song.

The pain in Josh's head was so intense that it numbed everything else. He could barely keep his eyes open as he felt himself being dragged away from a mess of orange and red. The sound around him was deafening, and he couldn't piece anything together. Everything was coming together in pieces.

Apart from the pain, the first thing he registered was that he was wet. He blinked dazedly. The hands hooked under his armpits were pulling him too quickly, making his head throb and his vision blur. Even with that slight impairment, he could see red liquid with slimy pieces of pink in it on his arms and pants. He blinked again. His pants were ripped, hardly staying up due to the broken waistband.

"Arms up," and unfamiliar voice said.

Josh instinctively went to do as he was told, but stopped with a whimper when unbearable pain shot down his shoulder and back. He heard the voice swear.

"Fuck, man. He got you good. I don't have nothing to cut this shirt off you, so I'm gonna rip it. We've gotta figure out how much of this blood is yours and how much is his and then get rid of it before the guards show up," the other man told him. "What's your name, kid?"

Josh's breathing became even more unstable as he felt his shirt be torn away by giant hands. He tried to protest or give his name or say anything at all, but he couldn't talk. Fear kept his lips together as he tried to focus.

There was more wetness when his shirt was gone, but he couldn't focus. He heard himself whimper again, and he could feel his entire body trembling uncontrollably.

"Steady, brother. I got you. He can't hurt you now. Just try to stay still," the stranger reassured him. "God, I think your shoulder's dislocated. It's already bruised as hell. Does this hurt?"

Fingers poked at his shoulder, and he nearly screamed as a sob ripped through his throat. Everything hurt. Every single part of him hurt, and he still couldn't see. He was completely at the mercy of this stranger, and he couldn't even see them properly. He could see dark skin, large hands that blurred when they moved, and blood. So much blood.

"Fuck. Okay. Look, man. My clothes ain't gonna fit you, but that's all we got right now until they come let us outta here. My sink got busted, so I gotta use toilet water to clean this off. I'm sorry, man. It's all I got," the voice continued. "Can you tell me your name? Or say anything?"

Josh tried to speak, but he just spluttered out a mess of unintelligible sounds. The stranger hummed.

"Okay, man. Take it easy. Don't hurt yourself more," he replied calmly.

There was a dripping sound, and then the wetness was back. This time, it wiped at his eyes. It became apparent to Josh when the wetness left that he'd had blood in his eyes, making it even more difficult for him to see. He could see the face in front of him now, even if it was blurry. The man towered over him, blood and chunks of pink clinging to his face and white shirt as he carefully wiped blood away from Josh's face with a white shirt drenched in toilet water.

"There we go. Nod if you can see me?" The man requested, his expression kind and careful.

Josh nodded shakily, wincing at the pain caused by the movement. The man nodded too, looking relieved.

"Okay. Good. Good. Okay. We can handle this. We just have to wait for things to calm down out there so guards can start sending people to the infirmary. Trust me. This ain't my first riot. We got lucky too since we're in solitary. It's worse when you're in the gen pop. Nowhere to hide. I've been there too," the man told him calmly.

Josh drew in a shaky breath, reaching up and wiping blood off of the stranger's face without thinking about it. He blinked in confusion at the chunks that stuck to his hand. He looked back up at the man, who seemed uncertain.

"You remember anything that happened before I brought you in here?" The man asked carefully.

It took a second for Josh to realize he was supposed to respond to that, but he shook his head slightly, feeling pain radiate all throughout his skull when he did so. The man helped him to sit back up when he started to fall over, his body weakened by the pain.

"I didn't catch the start of it, but some asshole was beating on you pretty bad. You weren't really fighting back, but you were begging him to stop and trying to get away from him. By the time I got there, you were pretty much unconscious, and he was ripping your pants trying to get them down. I-uh-I wasn't down with that, so I threw him off of you and started throwing punches. Next thing I knew, I had a pipe in my hand, and his face was fucking soup. We both got a little brain matter on us, but I'll get it off. No worries."

Josh's breathing became incredibly unstable as his mind started to process that. It came back to him in flashes of blue eyes, merciless hands, and a loud crunching sound. It had happened again. The man with blue eyes had done this to him again, and now he was dead. Josh was sobbing then, trying to figure out where all of the pain in his body was to make sure it wasn't in the one place that scared him most. He yanked at his torn pants, trying to make sure there was still something underneath them.

"Oh, shit. No. He didn't-I didn't let him get that far. I had him on the ground before he got your pants off," the man insisted.

The man looked sympathetic when Josh collapsed over onto his side, curling up into the fetal position and sobbing from both anguish and relief. The man with the blue eyes was dead. He couldn't hurt Josh anymore. He didn't succeed in hurting Josh the way he'd wanted to. He'd tried to though. He'd beaten the shit out of Josh and given it his best shot, but now he was dead. Why did Josh still feel so unsafe then?

"You're safe in here. I swear. We're locked in, and I ain't down with that shit. I wouldn't have crushed his fucking skull if I was," the man insisted. "I'm gonna put you in some of my pants, okay? Just to cover you up. I won't try to touch you though. I swear. I'm jsut gonna get the blood off your legs, and then I'm gonna put you in some pants. Then you can...fucking...well, I guess you can't sleep. You definitely have a head injury. I don't really have anything for you to do in here. I got a naked cell. Just hang tight while I get you cleaned up, and then we can get you into some pants."

Josh didn't have the strength or the energy to protest when he was adjusted into a sitting position before a complete stranger was taking off his pants and washing blood and brain matter off of his thighs for him. Josh's teeth were chattering with how hard he was shaking, but he didn't feel cold. He just felt like he'd never actually be safe again.

True to his word, the man just cleaned Josh up before helping him into a giant pair of orange pants. He chuckled at how they struggled to stay up before lifting Josh up onto his bed. That caused instant anxiety, but the man just went over to his desk chair and sat there instead of making any attempt to invade Josh's space. Josh relaxed a little.

"S-suh-sor-suh-sorry," Josh stuttered out quietly, his teeth still chattering as he struggled to get the word out.

The man shrugged. "No worries, man. I got a life sentence already. They can't do much more to punish me, especially since that fucker was a fucking monster. I've seen him around in the gen pop. He's a pedophile, ain't he? Fucking disgusting. Nobody can really blame me for killing him, especially with what he was trying to do when I got there."

It was probably hypocritical, but fear spiked in Josh again at the fact that this man he was locked in a room with had a life sentence. The man seemed to notice his sudden discomfort.

"Chill, man. I got busted for growing pot. I'm not a fucking murderer or some shit," the man replied amusedly.

"Puh-pot?" Josh asked, his nails digging into his already bruised arm as he dared to look at the other man in confusion.

"Yeah, man. Lotsa Black folks get locked up in here for shit like that. You ain't gotta worry about that though, do you?" The man replied simply.

He stood then, setting about washing the blood and brain matter off of himself. Josh was relieved to see that the man was at least adding soap to the toilet water they'd been washed with. It wasn't completely unsanitary. Besides, what other option did they have?

"S-s-sss-sor-ry," Josh stuttered out.

The man shrugged. "It is what it is. You wanna tell me your name then?"

"J-Juh-J-Jo-Josh," Josh managed to say, leaning his head back against the wall when he started to feel like he was going to pass out.

The man nodded. "Cool," he replied as he dipped the blood soaked shirt into the soapy toilet water once again before trying to scrub his arms clean. "I'm Jude."

Josh's eyebrows raised in surprise. Jude. Like Saint Jude. The Saint Jude who had become his patron saint. Jude.

"Th-th-thank-ks," Josh blurted out, making the man chuckle.

"You don't gotta thank me, man. I woulda done that for anybody. That monster had to be put down, man. That's what evil looks like," Jude replied calmly. "You always talk like that?"

Josh shook his head. Stuttering wasn't his norm anymore. It was a symptom of stress, trauma, anxiety, excitement, and any other emotion too strong for him to regulate. He was still teetering on the edge of a panic attack and apparently had a head injury, so of course he was stuttering. He didn't always stutter anymore though.

Every time Josh blinked, he swore he could see a pipe smashing down hard against those blue eyes until they exploded all over him. He swore he could still feel hands that were familiar but unwelcome scratching at his skin and smashing against him until he couldn't move anymore. He swore he could feel his arm being held behind his back until his shoulder couldn't bear the stress of it anymore. He swore those blue eyes were still waiting for him on the other side of the door.

"You gotta breathe, man. You're gonna pass out," Jude told him carefully, making no move to come nearer to Josh as he spoke calmly and comfortingly.

It didn't help though. Josh was hyperventilating still when the door buzzed and opened. He flinched away from it, already knowing blue eyes were going to burn through his flesh until those hands could tear it open. He flinched even harder when a hand touched his shoulder, practically thrashing in place as he struggled to get away from the hand. Blue eyes met his, and he sobbed.

"It's okay. It's over. It's okay," Hoppus told him gently, tears gathering in his blue eyes as they studied Josh. "You're safe."

Josh still couldn't breathe even as his dad's arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him together no matter how terrified he was that he might fall apart. He could hear himself babbling out meaningless words and syllables that he struggled to formulate. They were mostly strange sounds, "Dad," and "sorry." Hoppus held him close as he hushed him gently.

"You're safe. You're safe," Hoppus told him over and over before his attention went to Jude. "Are you hurt? Where's that blood coming from? Is it yours?" His voice was still soft and comforting as he spoke to Jude, even though he wasn't currently having a breakdown like Josh was.

"Not mine," Jude replied simply. "I'm good. He's got a dislocated shoulder and a head injury though, so you better focus on him. He's real freaked out."

"Did you see who did this?" Hoppus asked, still not releasing Josh, who was sobbing against his chest and clinging to his dad's shirt like his life depended on it.

"Hell fucking yeah I saw him. Fucking creep. I thought your buddy Josh there was gonna be dead by the time I got across that fucking hallway, man. He looked dead, but that asshole was still trying to-"

"No no no no no," Josh sobbed out, shaking his head furiously. He didn't want his dad to know. He didn't want his dad to be mad at him like his mom had been last time.

Jude instantly fell silent, not giving any further information even when Hoppus pleaded for it. He maintained his silence, not snitching on Josh no matter what Hoppus said.

"I need to get him to the infirmary. Are you sure you aren't hurt? I can take you right now too," Hoppus insisted carefully.

Jude shook his head. "I'm good. See you around, Josh."

Josh let Hoppus lead him out of the cell, but he panicked again when he saw the body of the man with blue eyes still lying on the ground. Janitors were working to clean up the absolute destruction in the hallway, but there was just so much of it.

"N-no. No, D-Dad. N-nuh-no," Josh sobbed out as he yanked himself out of Hoppus's grip and ran back to his own cell.

Start the song. It's Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella.

He sobbed when he saw his cell too. It had been destroyed. Books, letters, and just about everything else he owned were scattered across the floor. He sobbed again when he saw that blood had been splashed across his letter from Abbie. The saints from his mother had been shattered against the floor, and the beads of his rosary were scattered all over his cell. The bear from Frangipane was nowhere to be found. Everything had been destroyed. Every single thing.

Hoppus was talking to Josh, but he couldn't hear anything as he stumbled forward and picked up his little school photo of Abbie from the floor. It was in three pieces now, and a boot print marred her face. He flinched when Hoppus touched his arm gently to try and coax him out of his cell.

He ignored his father, stumbling forward and sitting down on his bed, which was completely disheveled now. The last letter from TJ was crumbled beneath the sheets. Josh wanted to throw up. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to have some semblance of hope that things were going to get better, but they weren't. This was it for him.

"Josh?" Hoppus asked worriedly. "I really need to get you to a doctor. You have a head injury, and I'm really worried about your shoulder. You're limping too. We need to make sure you're okay. Can you please let me take you?"

Josh stared right past Hoppus at the body of the man who'd attacked him. He felt numb, like all of the pain inside of him had become so intense that he just couldn't feel it anymore. He wrapped his arms around himself as best as he could, still staring at the carnage across the hall. He shook his head slightly, making Hoppus sigh.

"Can you tell me what happened then?" Hoppus asked hopefully.

Just the simple question made Josh's body tremble so hard that it was almost painful, and he suddenly lost the ability to speak. He squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering quietly.

"Shhh. It's okay. I'm here. You're safe. I won't let anything hurt you again. I'm here," Hoppus told him gently, his voice breaking as he spoke. "I'm here," he repeated, tears evident in his voice, "and I will love you no matter what happened. I will still be your dad, and I will still love you more than anything."

Josh wanted to scream. He wanted to be inside of the house as it burned to the ground. He would rather feel flames melting away his flesh than have to tell his dad that he'd been weak enough to let this happen to him twice. He wanted this to go away. He wanted everything to go away.

Hoppus made a small broken sound when Josh flinched away from his touch. "Please talk to me," Hoppus whispered fearfully. "Please don't shut down. I'm here. I'll protect you. I love you. You can tell me anything."

Josh curled forward, burying his face against Hoppus's chest as a violent sob tore through his chest. He cried so hard that he was nearly screaming, but he still couldn't speak. He flinched away whenever Hoppus tried to hold him, needing the closeness but fearing any hand that tried to offer it to him. Every hand that touched him seemed to belong to the same person, the person that scared Josh the most. He was still crying when he heard someone come running down the block. He couldn't pull away from Hoppus or quiet his sobs though, even if he wanted to hide away from the owner of the footsteps.

"Is he okay?" A broken voice asked, a sob breaking through the words.

Josh instinctively lifted his head at the sound of Frangipane's voice. Her uniform was ripped in places, and she had a black eye, but she was here. She was here, and her hands were nothing like the ones that had hurt him. She sobbed when she saw him, and before Hoppus could try to explain to her that Josh wasn't doing very well with communicating or coping with touch at the moment, she was climbing into Josh's lap and hugging him tightly. He hugged her back without hesitation, sobbing against her shoulder when her thin fingers slid into his hair and cradled the back of his head. It was killing his shoulder to hold her this tightly, but he was terrified to let go.

"What happened?" Frangipane asked him gently, coughing as she tried to hold back a sob.

Josh squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop trembling but not knowing how. She hugged him tighter.

"What happened?" She asked again, looking to Hoppus this time.

"Another inmate said they had to pull someone off of him. He was attacked. I don't know. He won't talk. He has a head injury and a dislocated shoulder, but he won't let me take him to the infirmary either," Hoppus told her weakly.

Frangipane pulled away from the hug, holding his face in her hands and studying his eyes carefully. He could tell by her expression that she knew exactly why he didn't want to say anything. She could read him like a book, and she was no stranger to abuse either. She knew exactly what had happened, and she was crying again.

"No, Josh. No," she sobbed out. "Baby, no. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. We still love you. We will always love you. We just want to help you. We aren't mad at you. We aren't going to get mad at you."

Josh's bottom lip trembled as he studied her expression anxiously. The risk was too high. He couldn't tell his dad what had happened. He couldn't tell anyone. He couldn't lose anyone else. He couldn't.

It was probably habit or instinct that made her do it despite the fact that Hoppus was standing a foot away, but Frangipane kissed Josh. That was probably the same reason that Josh kissed back. She kissed him softly, her hands still holding his cheeks, and her body still perched in his lap. When she broke the kiss, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she held him again, whispering to him over and over again that she and Hoppus still loved him just as much as they always had and that nothing could change that.

Josh could see his dad over her shoulder, looking like he had no fucking idea how to process the fact that Frangipane had just kissed Josh like it was an everyday occurrence. To be fair, it kind of was lately. Also, it was the only thing that had made him feel any calmer since he'd been dragged into Jude's cell.

Hoppus sighed. "Okay. Um, we can talk about this later, but we really need to get Josh to the infirmary. That's our number one priority right now. Okay?"

"Yes. Agreed," Frangipane said quickly as she climbed out of Josh's lap. "Come on. It's okay. We'll protect you. I promise."

When Josh still didn't move, she added quietly, "And I will make sure that no one tells your mom anything more than the fact that there was a riot, and you got hurt. That's all she'll know."

Josh swallowed nervously, glancing at Hoppus, who looked incredibly confused. Josh nodded slightly, climbing off of his bed and allowing Frangipane to cuff him so he wouldn't run away again. Hoppus was looking at him funny, like he still wasn't putting the pieces together and couldn't understand why. Josh avoided eye contact, already preparing himself for Hoppus's inevitable abandonment. He'd leave when he found out. He was never going to want Josh for a son again.

They had to walk slowly to the infirmary, which was overflowing with inmates who had sustained varying degrees of injuries during the riot. Josh wanted to throw up when he saw a man with a shiv buried in his thigh. Every inch of the prison was in shambles, and Josh kept finding himself looking for blue eyes in the crowd. He wouldn't find them though. Those eyes had been pulverised and splattered across his face.

It wasn't until the doctor was shining a flashlight in Josh's eyes that it hit him. Seven. Seven people had died because of him. Six in the fire, and one just outside his cell. He'd killed seven people. One for every day of the week. One for every deadly sin. Seven. He had the blood of seven people on his hands, his face, his chest, his arms. He was absolutely drenched in blood, and he was starting to think that he'd never be clean.