Title – Not Worth It
Author – WhatItIsLikeInWords
Rating – PG-13 (a little swearing)
Summary – Ryder's explanation as to why he is the way he is. After all, there's always a reason behind a person's character…

"Not worth it". That's what he said. I'm not worth it.
But not worth what? I must mean something to someone . . . mustn't I? Then again, my parents don't exactly care that much. I mean, here I am, at a rich boy's fantasy boarding school on a different continent. Except I'm not a rich boy. And it's not my fantasy.
But friends, my friends must care for me, right? I have lots of people I hang out with, to smoke, play cards, talk about the most recent easy lays we've had. But maybe they're just there to bum some cigs off me, or win money off me by cheating at poker. It's not like we ever talk about anything meaningful, anything that matters.
So basically, I have no friends, and a family that doesn't care. Well, doesn't care anymore, anyway. It could have all been so different.

You couldn't tell for such a long time. I could tell, but then again I always could. He tried to make light of it, saying he was fine, there was nothing wrong. I didn't understand how people managed to ignore the hollow, gaunt cheeks, the dark shadows etched under his eyes. I knew where he stashed the tissues, spattered with blood he coughed up daily. It took weeks before I finally convinced anyone else there was a problem.
Was it too late by then? Would it have been OK if I'd told them before, or was he already too far gone?
I wonder now how long he knew. Certainly longer than I did. The bond was breaking, only a little but it wasn't as strong. I couldn't tell when he hurt, or was upset. I don't think he could tell for me.
To lose a brother hurts. To lose a twin makes it hurt so much it's hard to breathe.

He was half of me . . . probably the better half, to tell truth. We were joined, one, connected by an indescribable bond that few understood. You have to have a twin, an identical twin, to know what it feels like.
You people, you will always be alone. You make your own relationships, break them too. I was born with a soulmate, a friend for life. He was the only one who could ever understand me completely. You can never understand each other, because you're all so different. Me and him, we were two halves of a whole. There was no getting away from the two of us.
We were only 11.

Six years. Six years of being alone. It's like I've lost my sense of direction, and I can't remember where I'm supposed to be going.
I overheard that Jake Pratt kid telling his loverboy that he'd been to six schools in as many years. That's nothing. I've been to 9 since starting secondary education, on almost every continent. Two in England, four in Europe, even one is Asia. Rawley is my second American school. It's not that different from the others, really. Same types of people, although everyone is infinitely more attractive than those in Europe.
Would anyone even notice me if I wasn't such a cold bastard? Do my parents notice that I'm different? Do they even realise I'm gone? And what about him? Is there some heaven where he can see me, know what I'm doing, what I'm feeling? I should be ashamed of myself. I am. I can't help what I do, it's automatic now. See someone, insult or offend them, then gloat afterwards because I made someone hurt. I made them feel a fraction of what I feel. Every day, every time I breathe, I know there should be another person on this planet that breathes at the same time I do. Who smiles my smile, laughs my laugh, speaks the way I do. And it hurts, it hurts so much, to have lost this person who understood me so well.
That's why I don't bother making any real friends. Why I don't try to get a girlfriend, although there have been plenty of offers, believe me. Because no-one can ever know me as well as him, my brother, my twin, my best friend.

Maybe they're right, maybe I'm not worth it. Maybe I'm not worth anything. But no-one bothers to find out anymore - my reputation precedes me. So I no longer make the effort. And if I hurt you, even a little, then you get atiny fragment offeelingwhat it's like to be me.