A/N: I am SO SORRY! I know I promised you guys the next chapter when I got back, so I deeply apologize. bowing deeply There really is no excuse for breaking promises, all I can say is I just wasn't inspired. I apologize again! I thank you all for your wonderful and helpful reviews!
BTW- Before I start this next chapter I want you all to know that I will be continuing on with the self-mutilation story line. I do know it is OOC for Ryan in the show but this is a fan fiction and I'm changing it to my will. Although I don't believe it is too far out of character for him. Let me explain: When it comes to abuse people react different ways, and the fight or flight mechanism comes into play. Self-mutilation runs under the flight category considering you could kill yourself; therefore fleeing from the problem. And Ryan has a tendency to run from problems rather than face them, such as when in "The Model Home" when he was facing going to foster care he ran away. So it is not so far off from his usual tendencies, just a little more extreme. I think self-mutilation would be the next step from running away. Ok I'm done rambling so let's continue on!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Ryan glare
Warning: This chapter contains severe language and some violence. You have been warned.
Chapter 4
Ryan could remember smashing that mirror, releasing all of his frustration and anger. Finally he felt the weight lift off of his chest. It felt exhilarating and he would do anything to have that feeling again.
Around 2am Ryan got up out of bed and walked quietly into the kitchen. Opening one of the drawers slowly he found what he desired. A small switchblade lay in the corner. Moonlight gleamed off the beautiful ebony handle. Slowly Ryan reached in and picked it up gently. Closing the drawer, he hid the folded knife in his palm, fingers wrapped tightly around it. Walking slowly back to his room, not turning on any lights and locking the door behind him, Ryan sat on the side of the bed that couldn't be seen from the doorway. He opened his palm revealing his prize, observing it closely as if it were a precious artifact.
Putting slight pressure on the handle the blade snapped up from it's hiding place in the handle. The precious silver metal gleamed brightly in the moonlight. Ryan took the hilt in a firm grip and lowered the blade to his right arm, just below his elbow, palms up. He could feel the sting of the cold metal against his skin. Although the wound was very shallow, it felt good as it sliced through his skin. Crimson worked its way through the wound, up to the surface. A thin river of blood ran down his forearm, a small trace of it lining the thin edge of the blade.
He sat there, dazed for a few minutes. The effects began to wear off. Ryan wanted more, to feel in control of something again. So he did do it again, and several more times all up and down his forearm, except for his wrist. He didn't want to die; he just wanted control again. Slitting his wrists would be more of a last resort.
Ryan knew cutting himself wasn't the best way to handle the situation. He could go to the Cohen's, but they were already paying for him to go to school, he didn't need to impose on them some more. Plus he was afraid that if he did go to them he would end up going into Foster Care and that was something he just couldn't do. His life might be far from perfect but he had a good school to go to and a job to keep the bills paid, so if he could finish high school he could save up to rent an apartment or small house and get away from his mother and start his own life. He just hoped that he could hold himself together until then.
Finally, exhaustion setting in, Ryan folded the blade and put it in between the mattresses for safekeeping. Climbing into bed, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, being a Monday, Ryan got up early and took a shower, washing off the dried blood. Instead of the usual wife beater with unbuttoned over shirt, Ryan wore a gray hoodie over the wife beater. Luckily fall had finally set in and things were getting cooler.
As he rode his bike to school a calm had set over him. He felt strangely happy. Nothing special had happened, he just felt good. Maybe today would be a different day. When he got to school he put his bike away and went to his locker and got his books for the morning classes. Just as he was shutting his locker, Seth came up to him slowly; nervously. Seth didn't say anything, he was waiting to see if Ryan was angry and not going to talk to him or if today would be different from the last couple of weeks.
"Hey Seth."
"Hi." Seth replied softly. For once he was at a loss for words.
"How're things goin'?"
"Good I guess. Except for the whole not being able to talk to you debacle."
"I know, I'm sorry I've been such an ass lately. Stuff's just been happening and I wasn't ready for it."
"I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to be pushy I was just concerned, that's all. But, if you don't mind, what's been goin' on?"
"I really don't want to talk about it." At that statement tension came between them, Ryan putting his guard back up just in case and Seth trying to figure out what to say. Finally deciding not to push it, only because there were no new marks that Seth could see, he decided to do what Seth Cohen does best.
"Okay, that's fine. But, not to change the subject or anything, but you won't believe the progress I've made with Summer." Seth said, instantly easing the tension between them.
"Oh yeah? Well since we've got English first block you can tell me all about it."
"I look forward to it my friend."
With that out of the way, both boys continued down the hall towards first block class. Although Seth was again filling up the silence with his witty banter and Summer stories, the tension was still there lying beneath surface. But both of them were content to leave it there, afraid of what would happen if they brought it back to the surface.
As all good things must end, the final bell rang signaling the end of the day. Ryan and Seth met at the front steps.
"So do you wanna do something? My parents won't be home for another couple of hours so maybe we could go down to the pier or comic book store?"
"Sure, just let me grab my bike." Ryan got his bike and loaded it into the back of the Rover. Throwing their bags into the back seat both boys got in and got comfortable. They spent the afternoon walking up and down the pier, eating pizza, drinking a pop or eating ice cream. They went to the comic book store so that Seth could gaze around, see if there was a comic he might be interested in. Finally they settled on playing playstion until Sandy got home.
"Seth? I'm home!"
Walking into the living room Sandy spotted Seth and Ryan in an intense ninja battle. Sandy nearly did a double take. Last time he checked Ryan wasn't speaking to Seth, so this was a little weird to him.
"Hey Ryan, good to see you again! Where have you been?"
"Oh, hey Sandy. Been busy with schoolwork and my job. It's good to see you too." Ryan replied, not taking his eyes off the screen
"Yeah." Hey, can I talk to you for a second? In the kitchen?"
Pausing the game Ryan turned to look at Sandy, curious. "Umm, sure. I'll be right back Seth."
"Kay, Dude. I'll be waiting."
Following Sandy, both of them walked quietly into the kitchen, Ryan getting a bad feeling. Sandy gestured for Ryan to sit at the bar, he obeyed silently, the feeling in his gut getting worse and worse.
"So, Ryan do you want anything to drink?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Okay, well let's get down to business then. Seth came to us, telling us you had been acting very strangely and had some cuts and bruises. Do you mind telling me what that was all about kid?"
"It wasn't anything Sandy." Ryan spoke quietly, eyes staring down at the floor.
"Ryan, I'm a lawyer who's been working with kids like you for a long time now. I can smell a lie a mile away. Please kid, you can tell me. What's been going on?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Why not? I can help you, we can help you."
"I don't need your help, I'm fine. Please don't push me Sandy." Ryan said, his tone icy and well guarded, looking up at sandy with pleading eyes. After a short pause Sandy sighed and responded.
"Well, okay kid. I can see I'm not going to get you to talk, but I want you to know, that we're here for you if you ever need us okay kid?"
"I know Sandy, thanks." Ryan said, meaning every word he said.
"So do you wanna stay for dinner?"
"Sure. Let me guess, Thai?"
"You got it! Dinner of champions!"
Ryan went back into the living room where Seth sat on the sofa twiddling his thumbs. Ryan sat back down picking up his controller, Seth eyed him warily, curiosity killing him.
"So, uh, what was that about?"
"Nothin' much. Sandy just wanted to know what's been going on, that's all."
"Oh. Well, let's continue shall we?"
"Prepare to have your ass handed to you man."
"I am the master and you are the pupil, my friend, and the pupil never wins."
"Oh yeah? Then explain my last five wins."
The boys continued their playful banter for the next hour or so until Kirsten arrived home with dinner. Ryan really enjoyed it. He loved being with the Cohens and observing what a real family was like. But pain always went through his heart reminding him that he was only a guest, not a member, of this family.
When Ryan arrived home that evening it was about nine-thirty. He could hear Dawn's snoring from her bedroom. John's car was in the driveway so no doubt he was in there with her. Ryan went to his room, finished up his homework by ten and went to bed. Today had been a good day and although he knew it wouldn't last, he was glad to have had it.
This whole next week went by about the same, pretty mellow and calm and Ryan liked it that way. He felt like the pieces were being put back together. Dawn still had her job, his grades were getting better and he saw less and less of John, and his friendship with Seth had gone back to the way it was before any of this stuff happened. But there was this feeling in his gut that the other shoe was about to drop; like the calm before the storm.
Within a couple of days the cuts on his arm had healed just enough that no one would see them without close inspection. So he could wear his usual clothing again, considering a warm front hit Newport, bringing the temps back up. Friday came and Ryan got home from school to find his mother and John almost drunk, angrily stuffing boxes with all of their worldly possessions. There were bottles of beer littered everywhere and the ashtray on the table was full with cigarette butts. Ryan froze, wandering what happened to cause his mother to go on a bender like this. He set his bag down gently and took off his over shirt because he was hot from the bike ride home. He took a few steps closer to the couch.
"Hey Mom. What's going on? What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong. Those fuckers down at the restaurant fired me! They fucking fired me those sonofabitches!"
"What? Why?"
"Because I didn't come in for a few days when I was supposed to! I was busy with other things and I tried telling them that but they wouldn't listen!"
"Did you ever call in saying you wouldn't be able to make it in?"
"Well, no, but it doesn't matter! They should give me another chance! I'm so tired of this fucking town, with all of it's stuck up snobs who don't work an hour a day and still get food in the damned refrigerator! And all the nasty stares I get for not having as much money as they do! I'm so sick of it!"
"Well, start looking for another job, I'm sure you'll find one Mom."
"Nope, I'm not doin' this shit again, not in this fucked up town! We're moving!"
"Whoa, hold on there Mom. We can't move! I have school and friends here, besides where will we go?"
"We are moving! You can go to a new school and make new friends damnit! I don't care where we move, anywhere's better than here! So go pack were fucking leaving by tomorrow morning!"
"But Mom-!"
"You heard your mother now do as she says!"
"Fuck you! You aren't my father, so don't act like it!"
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, especially to a drunk. John stormed over to Ryan and took a swing but missed as Ryan ducked. Ryan took this opportunity to tackle John to the floor, holding his throat tightly as his other arm fought with John's hands as he tried to retaliate. Dawn only stood and watched on doing nothing to stop the fight or help her son. Unfortunately, John won the battle of arms, decking Ryan straight across the cheekbone, cracking it. Ryan rolled over onto his back, stars dancing in front of his eyes. If someone were to say he was in pain, it would clearly be the understatement of the century.
John got up and hauled Ryan up by the arm only to knee him in the groin. The wind knocked out of him, Ryan fell to his knees, hunched over in pain. The older man kicked him, hard, in the ribs and Ryan rolled a few feet gasping for breath. Taking Ryan's chin firmly in his hand, John growled menacingly.
"Thank God I'm not your father boy. I wouldn't have raised a boy like you. But you will listen to me and your mother, you got that?" Ryan didn't respond, but only groaned in pain.
"I said, 'You got that boy?' ANSWER ME DAMNIT!" John said, slapping Ryan across the broken cheekbone. Ryan cried out in immense pain, his eyes watering, finally nodded his head.
"I didn't hear you."
"Y-yes, I got i-it." Ryan whimpered, finally relenting.
John let go of Ryan and got up and finished packing the box he had been working on. Ryan finally got up and stumbled to his bedroom. He resumed his spot beside the bed and got the blade. He just started to slice and dice all up and down his arms going deeper and deeper. He continued cutting himself on both arms getting lower and lower. If he had ever felt out of control of his life it was nothing like now. 'We can't leave. I have too much here, a school, friends, another family'. That last thought rang through his head like a church bell. "Another family" that's right. 'The Cohen's are like another family to me. God I've been so stupid! Ouch!' Ryan looked down to his arm to find that he had gone too low, his wrist was slit and a large pool of blood was forming quickly. 'Shit!' Ryan dropped the switchblade and grabbed his wrist trying in vain to stop the bleeding.He pulled his arms up to his chest staining his wife beater red. Getting up quickly and immediately falling back down as his ribs cried out in protest. 'Great going Atwood, you dumbass.' Ryan thought to himself gritting his teeth. Slowly getting back up he made his way to the bathroom and wrapped his arm in toilet paper, considering they had no real bandages that would cover his wrist well enough after doing that he rushed through the living room, ignoring John and his mother. He looked into John's car to find he left the keys in them. He got in and started the car, with John coming out just in time to see him pulling out of the driveway.
"Where the Hell do you think you're going you little shit?"
But Ryan was already too far down the road to hear anything from John. Within minutes he was at the gates to the mansions of Newport and pulling in to the driveway of 'Casa Cohen'. Sandy happened to be outside waxing his surfboard when he noticed an unfamiliar car pulling in. 'Hmm, I wonder who that could be?' Sandy set down his board and walked towards the car when he noticed Ryan stumbling out of it.
"Ryan what're you-?" Upon seeing Ryan's condition, Sandy rushed over to him and caught him as he finally passed out.
A/N: I know, what a cruel thing to have done! I'm so evil! But I swear I WILL have the next chapter out by Friday. I know this because the end is in sight for this story. So please review and tell me what you think! BTW I know it is pretty weird that Ryan could drive here at the end, but it would be more realistic than him riding his bike to the Cohen's. He'd keel over dead if he did it that way. But I needed a way for him to get to the Cohen's. I suppose we all owe a thanks to John for his stupidity.