"Its time for quiet. I just want to close my eyes and not have to see the
places I've been. I'm weary..."
Ryan sat alone in the darkness of the pool house. For the second time in as many days he sat through the yelling and the lecture and the disappointment. The disappointment in their faces, and in their eyes. It was worse then anything Ryan had ever felt before. It hurt more then any beating he had ever received. And he hated himself for it, for making them so angry, so upset and so very, very disappointed.
They sent him out to the pool house when they didn't know what else to say to him; when they couldn't bear to look at him any more.
Their words still echoed in his head.
"Why", Sandy demanded, "why would you attack that boy? What would possess you to become so violent?"
"Violence never solved anything," Kirsten told him.
But violence was all he knew. He didn't suddenly become violent. He'd always been violent. He was born into a world of violence, and he knew some day he would die the same way. He knew it, and now the Cohens knew it, too.
It was all over. The perfect life he had was gone. He couldn't be part of the perfect family. He no longer had the perfect girlfriend. He would never be the perfect son. It was all over. It was gone.
And for the first time in years, Ryan cried. Hard. He cried for everything he lost and everything he would never have. He cried until he was numb, and there was nothing left to cry about. He cried until he was an empty shell, just like he was when they first brought him into their home, and made him feel loved.
As Ryan sat, surrounded by the quiet darkness, he could feel himself slipping away. Away from the violence that was his life, pushing away the pictures of the places he's been and the horrors he's seen.
He closed his eyes and laid himself down, and left himself go. He was tired. Too tired. He let the quiet darkness surround him, engulf him, and he welcomed it.
Ryan sat alone in the darkness of the pool house. For the second time in as many days he sat through the yelling and the lecture and the disappointment. The disappointment in their faces, and in their eyes. It was worse then anything Ryan had ever felt before. It hurt more then any beating he had ever received. And he hated himself for it, for making them so angry, so upset and so very, very disappointed.
They sent him out to the pool house when they didn't know what else to say to him; when they couldn't bear to look at him any more.
Their words still echoed in his head.
"Why", Sandy demanded, "why would you attack that boy? What would possess you to become so violent?"
"Violence never solved anything," Kirsten told him.
But violence was all he knew. He didn't suddenly become violent. He'd always been violent. He was born into a world of violence, and he knew some day he would die the same way. He knew it, and now the Cohens knew it, too.
It was all over. The perfect life he had was gone. He couldn't be part of the perfect family. He no longer had the perfect girlfriend. He would never be the perfect son. It was all over. It was gone.
And for the first time in years, Ryan cried. Hard. He cried for everything he lost and everything he would never have. He cried until he was numb, and there was nothing left to cry about. He cried until he was an empty shell, just like he was when they first brought him into their home, and made him feel loved.
As Ryan sat, surrounded by the quiet darkness, he could feel himself slipping away. Away from the violence that was his life, pushing away the pictures of the places he's been and the horrors he's seen.
He closed his eyes and laid himself down, and left himself go. He was tired. Too tired. He let the quiet darkness surround him, engulf him, and he welcomed it.
