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And his name is Roger Taylor

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They had a great show. Roger could tell that Queen was really going somewhere. He was still buzzing with energy when a drink was shoved into his hand, now that he really thought about it, he knew that he should have never taken it, but at that time he decided that it was from an adoring fan.
He smiled and drank it all in a few, short gulps.
That was his first mistake. He logical side of him told him that none of what was happening was his fault, but he couldn’t help but blame himself for this.
‘I deserve this. I’ve always deserved this.’ He thought to himself. He was rude and annoying to the band and now this is what he received from it.
He definitely deserved it. Now he would pay for his stupidity. His hands were currently in a vice like grip behind him, by a strong, tall man behind him. The man was moaning in his ear, little pet names and how good he was. Whatever Freddie has talked about during his drunk ramblings didn’t seem to be right in his case.
Tears were running down his face and he felt absolutely pathetic. Nobody would ever touch him after this.
His thoughts were cut off as the man finally pushed roughly inside of him. Roger sobbed out in the extreme pain, Each targeted thrust bringing more pain to him than he ever thought possible. The man suddenly slapped him hard across the face, which was very awkward due to the position they were in.
“Shut your mouth and take it, you slut!” The man hissed. Roger could do nothing but nod and be still, for he knew very well that the man had a gun in his pocket somewhere.
The excruciating pain went on for what seemed like hours until the man left him on the ground, bleeding and helpless before the man had sliced his arm with a knife that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and Roger cried out in pain.
“You tell no one about this, you hear me? If you do then I’ll kill every single person you love.” Roger nodded sloppily, tears still running down his flushed cheeks. The man turned and left. The boys must have left a while ago when they saw him and the man go to the restroom. Roger curled up into a ball and sobbed brokenly. Why has this happened to him? Why? Roger shook his head and got off the stinking floor, put his clothes back on, and fled. He messily wiped away his tears and walked back, in the freezing cold weather of London, back to the shared flat with the boys. He felt his back pocket and nearly cried in relief at the feeling of his keys. He unlocked the door, and entered, not saying a word when Brian yelled at him for being so irresponsible and staying when they had another gig the next day.
Roger felt oddly numb. He felt awful about it, so he simply apologized profusely and went to his room. When he fell on his bed, he sobbed. He knew they’d hate him after this, so he just kept it inside and almost fell asleep, forgetting about his arm for a moment before the real pain had set in. He glanced at it and went to the bathroom to at least put some towels around it.
After he had done that, he flopped back on his bed and slept, the worst was over, but the nightmares were soon to come. He was with Brian someplace dark and frightening, with him yelling at him, saying that it was all his fault. Brian then disappeared and the man was back, to finish what he started. To kill him. Roger awoke screaming before he was killed. John was beside him on the bed looking annoyed, but also a bit worried.
“Come on, Rog, it’s 4:00 in the bloody morning, you need to shut it and go to bed.” He then got up and left the room. Roger was left feeling guilty and sad. Would it be better for the others if he just killed himself? Why do they need someone like HIM in Queen? He didn’t deserve it.
He stayed up he rest of the night and shivered. He didn’t deserve them. He went to the bathroom and started to cut himself. He didn’t want them to see what he’d done, so he started on his thighs and kept going until, he had no more room on them. He cleaned them up without so much as a wince and slept, feeling much more relaxed, surprisingly. They couldn’t know about the man. He HAD to keep it from them. He couldn’t let them die. He couldn’t.