I had all these ideas in my head about this chapter, pretty good ones I think, but one night of drunken-ness seems to have made all those ideas disappear. I keep seeing an ending in the very close future for this fic, but everyone keeps telling me to continue it, so I'll have to see what I can do. I might have to consider finishing this one off and maybe starting a new one. Ideas are always welcome.
PS: thanks to everyone who reviewed…
muchtvs: In the forty something fics that I've written, I think only like, two are actually not in the first person. I find it easier to write in a characters POV.
TeacherTam: I agree with you. I'm kind of annoyed about how they handled his past and trust issues. The farthest I saw it actually go is with the whole Oliver thing. It also kind of throws me off though that sometimes they seem to bounce from one thing to another, without actually making it flow a little smoother. It's like every new episode is a new and completely different topic. They need to mix in some things from prior episodes and stuff like that. Anyways though, that's all just my opinion, I don't even know if it made sense. Anything makes sense when you're drunk.
All the other reviewers: Thanks. This fic seems to be more popular now than it was before it was put on hiatus.
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I close my eyes, trying to fight against the images from my past, trying to keep them at bay, but it doesn't seem to work any longer as my mind begins to play tricks on me. I open my eyes slowly, looking through the small slits before completely opening them and looking at the run down bathroom in front of me. The shower curtain is missing, and the stench of old wet clothes fills my nostrils as I feel my body beginning to shake.
The house is quiet, a little too quiet, and I cautiously pull my body away from the door, gripping the edge of the counter and using it as leverage as I pull myself up into a standing position, my hand immediately finding it's way to my side as pain seeps through it.
I feel my palm become slick with liquid, and I look down horrified at the crimson stain covering my hand, the liquid thick and continuous as tears find their way to my eyes. I manage to keep myself steady as I use the back of my dry hand to wipe the steady tears from my face, and I'm slightly startled as the image of my nine year old self stares back at me, my hair disheveled and all over the place, like I had just felt the wrath of one of mom's boyfriends.
The pain radiating from my side seems to confirm the thought, but I struggle to ignore it as I slowly reach my hand in front of me, tracing my grown fingers over the image of the young boy, face streaked with tears and a tired, pained look in his eyes.
I take my gaze away from the image for a split second, staring at my hand like it's a foreign object, and I slam my back against the wall behind me startled as the image of my mother appears in the mirror, her eyes bloodshot and her nose all messed up from all the drugs she's inhaled. She stares intently at me, telling me to come closer to her, and I nod my head furiously to the left and right, trying to push myself as far into the wall as I possibly can.
"Ryan, come on, come to me. You know you want to come to your mother, I've got a treat for you."
She points her finger at me before turning her palm up and curling her finger in, trying to get my closer to her, but I resist. I can see her features quickly becoming angry, and I jump and scream simultaneously as I hear a loud bang come from the bathroom door, catching me off guard and causing me to back into the small space between the toilet and the bathtub. This is the same place I always used to hide when she had one of her boyfriends over, although it didn't matter where I was, they always found a way to attack me, bruise my fragile body and leave me broken.
"Ryan, if you don't open the door, I'm going to have to force my way in there. Just open it up and let me know you're okay."
My mind is pulled in all different directions as I attempt to place the voice, and I push myself further into my spot between the two hard objects as the sound of a key sliding into the door fills the room, echoing off the walls before the door slowly creaks open and a familiar face looks in, their expressions softening as they stare at me.
"Ryan, come on out of here, we need to talk."
His voice is gentle yet firm, and I reluctantly remove myself from the spot on the floor, my eyes avoiding the mirror as Sandy closes the bathroom door once I've stepped out of it, leaving the memory of my past slowly trying to catch back up to me, find my location again so it can eat away at my mind.
Sandy gestures towards one of the two chairs in the room, and I slowly lower myself onto the chairs cushion, my hand on my side so as to hide the blood that's coming from my once closed stitches.
"Kirsten told me what happened at the pier earlier. She didn't mean to scare you, she was just trying to get her point across that all we want is for you to be safe. You're overreacting to all of this, you know we wouldn't hurt you. Ryan, look at me."
My eyes stay focused on the ground, his words not really making their way into my conscious mind, and he stands up and begins pacing around the room, sighing heavily in frustration.
"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, get cleaned up and come in the house. We'll discuss the rest of this later."
He walks out of the pool house, trying to control his anger, and I stare at the closed door that he went through just seconds before. I can tell he wants to yell at me, he's got all of this anger building up inside towards me and my actions, and I don't want to be here when his anger decides to rear it's ugly head.
I wince painfully as I pull myself out of the chair, and I slowly make my way back over to the bathroom door, opening it once again and avoiding the mirror as I lean down and open the cabinet door that's under the sink, pulling out the first aid kit and straightening back up. I seem to move faster than my body would like at the moment, and a wave of nausea passes over me, causing me to grasp onto the countertop tightly. My eyes unwillingly make their way up to my reflection, and I stare at my facial features, my eyes encircled by dark circles and my skin becoming a deathly pale color.
After regaining a slight bit more of my strength back, I turn to leave the bathroom and walk back into the main part of the pool house, walking over to the bed and sitting on it with the first aid kit sitting next to me. Luckily the curtains on all the windows are closed as I painfully pull my shirt over my head, there's a massive blood stain on the white t-shirt that, given a few more seconds to soak up the blood,
Sandy definitely would have noticed.
I don't bother trying to clean the wound as it continues to ooze the crimson liquid, I simply put some gauze over it, using surgical tape to hold it firm in place before grabbing a shirt off the top of the stack of laundry that's sitting neatly made on the end of my bed where Kirsten set it before.
After slowly and painfully getting my shirt all the way over my torso, I pick up the bloody shirt that's laying on the floor and set it on my leg, grabbing a bottle of water from the side of my bed and pouring it over my hand, using the shirt to scrub some of the blood off. My hand seems to have become stained red, and I throw down the shirt in frustration, feeling another set of fresh tears streaming down my cheeks.
Why can't they see how worthless I am? I'm not worth their time, their money, all I ever do is fuck up and they know it. They think they can change that about me, make me a better person, but it will never happen. My dad is a fuck up, my brother's a fuck up, and it's only natural that I become one just as well.
What will it take for them to understand, I don't need their help. I did just fine back in Chino when my mom would disappear for weeks on end, off somewhere trying to feed her drug and alcohol habits. Of course I didn't live a luxurious lifestyle during the times that she was gone, but I lived comfortably, free of the beatings, free of… some of the other things her boyfriends did to me when they were around. I don't need to be rich, I don't need the Newport lifestyle to keep me going, I seem to be rather content far away from this place. If they would just understand that I could never be like them, I'll never be the perfect little son that Seth is who's always willing to take their money and seems to do nothing but please them. That's, of course, until I came here. Since, it's been nothing but a string of fights, and constant trouble that has in one way or the other linked itself back to me. And although they tell me that it wasn't my fault, I know deep down they're blaming me, blaming me for everything bad that's ever happened in their lives since I've gotten here. I'm used to it though, I'm used to taking the blame and receiving the punishment, and somehow, being here and getting none of that, it's not something my body seems used to. It's like I've lived with the beatings for so long, my body seems to be struggling without it, hence the constant fights.
I push my thoughts aside when I hear a light knock on one of the pool house doors, and the person let's themselves in when I don't answer, simply keep my eyes focused in front of me. They don't say anything, just move next to me and sit on the bed, and manage to push the bloodied shirt under the bed with my foot without them looking.
"Dad told me to come out here and get you, told me not to come back inside unless you're with me."
I mumble something incoherently under my breath as I weakly stand up, and I can feel him watching me as I go to a corner of the room, kneeling down and looking through a pile of stuff, getting angry when I can't find my backpack.
"Where the fuck is it?" I turn around quickly, causing Seth to jump, and he stands up as he slowly walks to me.
"They thought it might deter you from running if you didn't have it. I think they put it up in their room, hidden it in their closet or something."
"They have no fucking right taking my stuff. Go get it for me."
Seth nods his head, taking a few steps away from me as I straighten up and walk towards him. I can see a spark of fear hiding deep in his eyes, and I clench my hands at my sides as he refuses my demand.
"You fucking people can't keep me here anymore, I can't stay in this damn town any longer without fucking losing my mind. If you won't get the damn thing, than I will."
Seth looks at me startled, my outburst showing a side of me that no one in Newport has seen, and the adrenaline rush that I'm having right now seems to make the pain dissipate as I brush past the younger man and storm out of the pool house, feeling him hot on my trail as I swing open the back door of the main house and listen to it slam against the wall behind it.
Sandy quickly runs in front of me, trying to stop my from going somewhere that he doesn't even know of, and Kirsten looks at Seth questioningly.
"Get your hands off me."
Sandy doesn't back down, just keeps his hands on my chest, and I turn around, trying to leave the kitchen through the living room but being stopped by Sandy once again. My strength seems to have become completely shot, and Sandy knows it as he attempts to push me back the few steps into the kitchen, informing me that I'm not going anywhere.
"Ryan, why won't you just talk to us? Tell us what's going on so we can help you?"
"You're the problem, all of you. Somehow you got it stuck in your head that I'm going to miraculously change into the perfect person you want, and I'm sick of it. You're so stuck on trying to make me the person you've become, and you can't fucking see that it's never going to happen. The only future I have is in a five by five cell. And you think you're not like Dawn, Kirsten, but you need a reality check. Anytime anything bad starts happening, you automatically go to the liquor cabinet. You may not be an alcoholic like she is, but it's got to start somewhere."
"Don't you dare talk to my wife like that."
Sandy raises his voice above my level and I look back at him, anger burning furiously in his eyes. I try to push my way past him, try to get away from his stare, but he only forces me back. I can feel Seth's presence right behind me as I stand mere inches from him, and the walls feel like they're closing in on me. Everyone's turning against me, they're trying to break me down just like Dawn used to do, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen again.
Once again I try to push my way past Sandy and out of the room, and when he tries to push me back again, I use what little strength I have left in my battered body to take a swing at him, the sound of my fist connecting with his jaw echoing through the room. He grabs the assaulted part of his face, looking at me horrified, and I take this chance of vulnerability as I push past him and out of the kitchen, leaving the front door open behind me as I walk to the end of the drive way.
The adrenaline is still rushing through my body, but the pain is starting to make itself know as I look to my left and right, trying to think of what to do now. I've now officially destroyed any chance I ever had at having anything close to resembling a normal life, and I look back at the Cohen's house for a split second, not really surprised that no one's come out to look for my yet.
After another second of looking back down the road, I let one of my hands rest on my side, trying to ease the still flowing blood and pain as I turn to my left and start walking, unsure of where the road is going to take me but sure that it most likely won't get any better.
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Next chapter coming soon. Probably next weekend. Until then, amuse me and urselves by clicking the feedback button.