Unexpected Forever (Ryan Haywood)

Chapter 3

It was a quick, awkward car ride back to his apartment, which was surprisingly clean and organized.

"So this is it. I know it's not much but it home for now," he said to me nervously. "Here, I'll show you your room." Ryan said leading me down a short hallway and opening the second door on the right. It wasn't anything special, just a bed, nightstand, and a dresser but it was still a whole lot better than a park bench. "I'll grab you some towels if you want to take a shower." He entered the door across the hall and came back quickly with two big white towels, a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "I thought you might want something more comfortable to sleep in and we can wash your clothes."

"Thank you so much, I really appreciate this." I gave him a small smile.

"Yeah it's no problem," he said smiling, "The bathroom's right here." He said walking back down the hallway to the door beside mine.

"Thanks."

15 minutes later I was out of the shower thinking about the inevitable conversation about to happen. I sighed as I slipped on the t-shirt that came down to almost my knees, and tried to put the sweatpants on. They were way too big and wouldn't stay up. Oh well, I guess the shirt is long enough. I towel dried my hair a little bit before gathering up as much courage as I could and nervously walking out of the bathroom. Ryan was sitting on the couch in the living room texting someone.

I cleared my throat before speaking quietly, "The, um, the sweatpants don't fit." He jumped startled and looked me up and down quickly before nodding. I blushed, suddenly aware that I was in a stranger's home in just a t-shirt, my arms still bleeding a little. God, I'm such an idiot he's probably going to rape and murder me.

"Oh right, come into the kitchen and I'll fix you up." He said with a small sad smile glancing at my wrists. I nodded following him into the kitchen where he reached up into the cupboard to get a first aid kit his shirt lifted up a little exposing his stomach and I blushed even harder, looking away quickly. "All right, hop up onto the counter beside the sink." I followed his instructions with slight difficulty, trying not to flash him my underwear. He turned on the tap and gently grabbed my arm making butterflies erupt in stomach. He rinsed my arm off under the warm water then did the same to the other before he gave me a little grimace murmuring, "These are deeper than I thought they were." I look down ashamed when he looked up at me, " This is probably going to hurt," he said grabbing some alcohol wipes. As soon as it touched my arm pain exploded through it and I winced, quickly reaching out to grab him arm to stop him. "I know, I know, I'm sorry but I have to." He spoke gently taking my hand off his arm and instead holding it in his own before trying one again to clean the cuts. I clenched my jaw trying to focus on anything but the pain. Occasionally I let out a small whimper and squeezed his hand hard before I realized that I was probably hurting him and stopped. Once that torture was over he took his hand from mine, I blushed forgetting I had been holding it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to squeeze your hand that hard." I whispered before hearing his low chuckle, which brought the butterflies back full force.

"It's fine, I think I'll survive it," He said giving me that adorable smile. "I'm almost done, I'm just gonna put some bandages on them to keep them from getting infected." He reached over to grab the gauze, scissors and medical tape. "Are you going to tell me why?" He asked so quietly I barely heard him while began wrapping my arms slowly and methodically.

I had known this was coming but it didn't make it any easier. "I guess I probably should, I at least owe you that much." I looked at him nervously before starting, "Well, when I was a kid I was bullied a lot and had a verbally abusive mother and I developed depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder because of it. When I was 12 they started me on serious antidepressants and sleeping pills and antipsychotics, mixing and matching and experimenting until I was 17 when my mom kicked me out because I wasn't good enough for her. I started self-harming when I was about 15 just to feel something, because the medications left me so numb and unfortunately it's become an addiction that I just can't stop. Since then I've been on my own struggling to stay alive but unfortunately I attract crazy abusive men, most recently Aaron who I lived with up until a few hours ago." I hadn't noticed that he'd finished bandaging my arms, I also hadn't noticed the few tears that had slipped down my face while I was talking until Ryan wiped them from my eyes, before pulling me into a hug. I couldn't help it anymore, I wrapped my arms around his neck and sobbed into his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have told you this, I shouldn't be here bothering you. You're so nice you shouldn't be worrying about me."