Aug 18, 2024
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[X]
𝟷𝟶 ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ ᴀᴇᴡ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ sɪɢɴ.
𝟷/𝟷𝟶 - ʀᴏɴɴɪᴇ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ
Face Down in the Dirt
ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87616691
word count: 1,955
tags: mention of domestic abuse, hurt/comfort, Ronnie needs a hug, divorce, based on a song, angst
fandom: The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (band)
Ronnie walks upstairs to his room. His parents are arguing again; well, more his dad yelling at his mom and his mom taking it. He pushes the door closed with a bit too much force. He flops down on his bed and tries to drown out the sound of screaming by thinking. Of what exactly? Anything. How can he help his mom? Why does she put up with this? Why is his dad such a twat? In the midst of thinking, his eyes land on his electric guitar he got a while ago. What’s better to drown out the argument than music? He sits up and grabs it, plugging in his earbuds to the amp and strumming a chord.
'Perfect,' he thinks as he plays more and hums.
Downstairs the yelling gets worse but now Ronnie can only faintly make it out.
“You’re useless around here!” his dad shouts.
“Don’t do this while Ronnie is around, please!” his mom begs.
His dad stays quiet, just staring at her angrily, almost sizing her up before he slaps her across the face, leaving a mark.
He then storms off to his room and slams the door.
When Ronnie hears the fight start to calm down, he sets down his guitar and decides to take a break to check on his mom.
He walks down the steps carefully. “Mom?”
"Hey, kiddo… don’t worry about me; I'm fine.” She looks up at him at the top of the stairs.
“Why are you covering your face? Did he hurt you?” he asks hesitantly.
"Nono, don’t worry, Ron," she lies while walking into the bathroom to cover it up with makeup in order for him not to worry.
“What is wrong with him? He won’t do that again, I know he won't..." she mutters to herself.
Ronnie walks into their living room and sees all the family photographs from back before his dad started drinking. When they were happy.
“Mom?” Ronnie calls out loud enough for her to hear.
“Yeah, kiddo?” she replies.
“Why do you stay with him?” He asks rhetorically, "Really, you don’t deserve this; leave the twat—"
“Language, Ronnie, and don’t call your father that.”
"Sorry... but I mean, come on! He yells at you constantly and obviously hits you. Please, Mom.” Ronnie pleads.
“He’s just got a lot going on right now he’ll go back to normal eventually,” she assures.
Ronnie looks more concerned for her “No, he won’t, he’s been like this for months!”
The conversation stops suddenly when his dad comes back inside after having a beer (or two).
Ronnie just watches him silently as he walks up to his mom.
He tries to kiss her to make up for it but she steps back.
“Have you been drinking?” she accuses, “I thought you said you quit!”
“It was just one beer, you cunt!” he shouts back.
“Let’s do this outside.” she vaguely gestures to Ronnie implying she doesn’t want him to see.
“Fine,” he says gruffly.
They both walk outside onto the front porch and Ronnie goes up to his room to give them some privacy. Ronnie picks up his guitar from earlier and starts playing. It’s like his own little world to escape from all the yelling and fighting. He starts humming softly and mumbling broken lyrics.
“…heed my lecture..-“ he mumbles quietly as he continues playing, “…do you feel like mmmm-mm…”
Suddenly there’s the sound of faint yelling and quickly after a door slams shut downstairs.
“Ronnie! pack your things, we're going to your grandmas!” Ronnie’s mom calls out.
Ronnie jumps up off his bed and goes to his door to look out.
“What happened? Did he hurt you?” Ronnie asks.
She doesn’t answer but she glances up at him as she passes by his room with a look that confirms his worst fear. He actually hurt her.
He goes back into his room to pack his essential stuff.
When he looks under his bed to grab the duffel bag, he sees the guitar case his dad got him. “Ronnie Winter” is written on the name tag. Ronnie’s dad bought it for him the first time something like this happened. When he tried to buy back Ronnie’s love. It didn’t work as well as he hoped, but Ronnie at least tolerated him up until today. Now Ronnie couldn’t stand his father. How could he hurt her like that? He quickly shoves some clothes and an iPod with earbuds into his bag. He grabs it, then walks out of his room and goes downstairs into the kitchen where his mom and dad are. His dad is still trying to convince Ronnie and his mom not to leave.
“Cmon, babe! It won’t happen again!” he’s slurring his words.
Ronnie’s mom just stays silent as she moves around the house trying to gather things.
“You’re leaving too, kiddo?” his dad turns to him.
Ronnie stays silent but gives him an annoyed look and adjusts the duffle bag strap on his shoulder.
Ronnie opens his mouth to speak but his mom comes back and puts her hand on his arm as she walks past with her own small bag of things.
“Cmon,” she says as she ignores his dads words.
Ronnie quickly follows behind her.
“We’re going to Grandmas?” Ronnie sets his bag in the back and sits in the passenger seat.
“Yeah.. just for now. I’ll talk to someone in the morning about everything,” she gets into the driver's seat and puts the car into gear.
Ronnie stays silent and leans his head on the glass of the window. He watches his house fade away in the distance. His old, ‘normal’ life. As much as he is happy for his mother to finally stand up to his deadbeat addict father, he wishes his life would go back to normal and he could just sleep in his own bed. Without any yelling or fear.
“You okay, Honey?” she glances over at Ronnie before focusing back on the road.
“Mhm..” Ronnie answers not convincingly.
His mom doesn’t believe that he’s fully alright but doesn’t push for the truth.
She continues driving for a while with only the quiet hum of the road to fill the silence.
“Look.. Ron- me and your dad.. I think we’re getting a divorce," she suddenly blurts out.
Ronnie doesn’t reply.
After the silence, she steals another quick glance at him, only to see that he fell asleep.
She smiles softly and rubs his shoulder. “Get some sleep, kiddo."
When she pulls up to Ronnie’s grandma's house, she parks the car and tries to wake up Ronnie again.
Ronnie groans.
She sighs and gets out to go to his side of the car.
“You’re getting too old for this, Ron." She unbuckles his seatbelt. “I won’t be able to carry you forever, y'know."
With a big huff of strength, his mom picks Ronnie up bridal style and carries him up the few steps to the door.
She pushes the door open to be greeted by her mom.
"Shhh... he’s asleep,” she gestures to the very sleepy teen in her arms.
Ronnie’s grandma gives a small smile and quietly closes the door behind them. “Just take him to the guest room; we’ll talk after.”
Ronnie’s mom sets him on the bed in the guest room and pulls the blanket up.
“Love you, kid." She brushes some of his long hair out of his face and kisses his forehead before turning out the light and closing the door.
Ronnie’s grandma is sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea.
"So... what happened? What finally made you leave?” She takes a sip of the tea before setting it down.
“Well... we were fighting like normal, but this time Ronnie was around, so I asked to take it outside and... we fought more. It started getting physical, and he pushed me to the ground into the dirt; that’s when I finally had enough,” she rambles on and on.
“Okay, okay." Ronnie’s grandma opens her arms, not holding the mug, inviting her into a hug.
Ronnie’s mom leans in and hugs her back.
“You’ll be okay; we’ll get the papers in the morning. You two can stay here as long as you need.” She rubs her back in a soothing motion.
“Thank you, Mom." She gently ends the hug.
“Get some rest; we’ll get the papers tomorrow." She offers a small comforting smile and pat on the back.
Ronnie’s mom stands and says, “Okay.”
She goes to the other extra bedroom in the house and lies down on the bed. She stares up at the ceiling for a bit. Her mind is just racing with thoughts. Before she begins to overthink, she decides to just roll over and try to fall asleep.
The next morning Ronnie wakes up a bit late. The alarm clock next to his bed reads 11:00AM. He rubs his eyes and stands up. The whole house is eerily quiet; they both must be out. He walks down to the kitchen. The only sound is his bare feet padding on the hard wood floor.
He spots a pile of papers stapled together on the kitchen counter and walks over. It’s flipped to a few pages in, and he skims the lines. He doesn’t understand any of the words he sees, so he flips back to the first page, and in big text at the top it reads “DIVORCE AGREEMENT." Ronnie’s face pales. He can feel his eyes prickling with tears. Before they come out, though, he can hear rustling and the front door open. His head snaps up at the sound, and he can see his mom and grandma hobble in with a couple more bags of things, presumably from his house. They must’ve gone back for more of their stuff.
Ronnie’s mom spots him at the table with the stack of papers in front of him and the look on his face.
"Oh... Ronnie—" She quickly sets down the things and walks over to him.
“S-so it's final?” Ronnie speaks quietly, trying to hold back a sob.
"I—yes, Honey. It should be." She pulls him into a hug.
He doesn’t know why he’s crying; he hates that man. He hates that he has his last name. He hates that he’ll have to pass it down to his partner and kids some day. Hates what he’s done to his mom and him. Maybe he just misses how it used to be. How he knows everything is going to change and he’ll always have to live with a ‘broken’ family. The fact he’ll never be back in the house again, in his room.
“Want to go listen to some music? Will that cheer you up?” She pulls back slightly to look at his face.
He sniffles softly and nods, "Y-yeah... it will.”
“Okay, we’ll be down here if you need anything." She finally releases him from the hug.
Ronnie gives them a watery smile. “Mhm, thanks, Mom.”
“Any time, Kiddo,” she sits down at the dining room island and grabs the packet of divorce papers.
Ronnie quickly runs to his room and grabs the iPod and earbuds out of his bag and puts on some tunes. He flops onto his bed, and his long brown hair flows out behind his head onto his pillow. He sets the small iPod on his chest and closes his eyes. Instead of thinking about all the bad things happening, he decides to daydream about being a rock star on a stage, singing his favorite songs and rocking it out on a guitar. Finally, in what feels like weeks but has only been a couple hours, he breaks out into a genuine smile. He’s in his happy place.