Hi I can't sleep because I'm angry as shit with one of my flatmates for being a self-centered, alcoholic, cunt, so writing this instead of punching a hole through my wall and into her room because if I don't do something to occupy myself, I will kill her. 

Trigger warning: Mentions of abuse, depression, anxiety, injury, vomit

During her arrest, which Remington watched from the doorway of the living room, Holly wailed hysterically, claiming that she was innocent as she thrashed about, which only made Officer Greene more sure of her guilt. Remington felt so much satisfaction in seeing her handcuffed that he was actually sick, running off to the nearest bin and heaving into it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and returned to the doorway to watch the scene of her being dragged out of the house. 

The scene he had written and perfected, had acted out so many times in his head, it was finally happening. He didn't know how to contain himself. There were so many emotions buzzing about inside him that he couldn't decipher one from the next. Relief was the only clear one, but beneath that, he hadn't a clue. 

It didn't matter, anyway. Whatever he was feeling, she was being shoved into the back of a police car. That was all he had ever wanted to witness. Her loss of power, it was perfect. 

Officer Greene returned to the house once he had locked the vehicle and made sure it was secure, that she couldn't open the door from the inside. He spoke into the radio hooked on his breast pocket, something about another car, and then turned to Remington, who was dizzy against the door frame. "How're you doing?" He asked kindly. "Were you sick?"

Remington nodded. 

"You wanna sit down for a little bit? A car will be here shortly to take you to the station." 

He nodded again, turned slowly for the sofa. His head was heavier than the rest of his body and felt like it could keel forwards and pull him down. He sat on the edge of the couch. 

"I need to wait outside by the car, but I won't drive off until the other car is here, okay? If you need anything or you feel unwell, you let me know." 

Another nod, and the police man left the building to watch over the criminal in his back seat. 

Once the second car had turned up and the officers had exchanged words, he drove off, and Remington was greeted by a young man who said his name was Officer Morgan. He followed the man out to the car and the door was opened for him. He mumbled a thank you as he sat down, his arm protesting as it made contact with his lap. The short journey was quiet. Nothing needed to be said, and when the arrived at the station, he caught a final glimpse of Holly before she was forced through the door. Then she was gone, and he didn't know if he'd ever see her again. 

Officer Morgan walked him into a room with a blue sofa and a water cooler, filled a plastic cup with water and left it on the table. "Would you like us to contact anybody?" He asked. 

Remington didn't have to think. "Andy," he said. "Biersack. Please." 

"Of course, Remington. Anyone else, or just Andy?" 

"Just Andy." 

"Okay. No problem. Make yourself comfortable, help yourself to more water. If you need anything, let me know, okay? We'll take photos for evidence in a little while." 

Remington nodded. He didn't touch the water because he was shaking too much, and sat in a dazed state until the door opened to a teary-eyed, heavy-breathing Andy, who's face morphed into that of deep relief.

The man stepped into the room and closed the door gently, stayed a distance from the younger, who was staring at him, eyes equally as glassy. "Oh, thank God," he breathed. "I've been so scared of what she was doing, oh my God. Jesus. It's so good to see you." 

That was all it took, and Remington dissolved into tears, though spoke through them. "Closer," he said. 

Andy took a few steps towards him, wanted to pick him up off the couch and hold him until he stopped crying. 

"No," Remington mumbled, reaching his arms out for the man. "Closer. Please. Closer." He wiped his eyes as Andy approached, and when he was near enough to touch, he stood, and after a few seconds, threw himself at the man, gripped him tight, sobbed into his shoulder. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." 

Andy wrapped his arms around him and closed his eyes. "Oh, my love," he whispered. 

The gentleness of the embrace made Remington cry harder, until he was lightheaded and stumbling against Andy, who turned them around so he could sit down and have Remington in his lap. With the boy's legs around his waist, head pressed into his neck, he too was crying, though quietly. He had never seen someone to be in so much pain as to react like this and he wanted so badly to soak it all up, to take it upon himself so that Remington could have a life free of everything that was torturing him. 

Officer Morgan returned with a camera as Remington was calming down, and he gave the men a few minutes to dab their faces with tissue and drink water before he suggested they get this bit out of the way. 

Remington rolled up his sleeve for the photos, and Andy had to look away because the sight made him so angry he could have kicked through the wall. When Remington was asked to remove his shirt for evidence of his under-eating, he did, and again, Andy looked away. He had a strong desire to break into Holly's cell and stab a sharpened pencil deep into her throat just so he could pull it out and watch her blood spurt like a water fountain. 

After the photographs, they took care of Remington's wounds, wrapping them in a clean bandage. 

By the time he was told he could leave, he was ready for bed, and it was only the early evening. They asked where he'd go and he said, "Home," but Andy shook his head. 

"With me," he told them. 

Remington looked at him, surprised. 

"You can't be on your own, no way. Come with me, I've a spare room." 

He hesitated, and the officer told him it was a good idea, said it was better he was with someone after everything that had happened. 

"Okay," Remington agreed, then yawned. 

"I'll let you go," the officer said now. "You've done really well, Remington, I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this. I assure you, Holly will be punished. Take care, okay?" 

Remington nodded, mumbled, "I will, thanks." 

"Have a good evening, if you have any concerns, you drop by." 

He nodded again. 

"Thank you so much." Andy was holding Remington by the arm to keep him stable, but his grip was loose enough the singer easily could have pulled away if he wanted. Together, they headed for the exit.