The Boy Next Door Who Left...

Chapter 4

Loss?? Nah, you know what hurts more?
When you see the person you love  the most getting beaten up helplessly by your own neighborhood friends.
No I didn't see him getting beaten up I was out of station. But when he told me what happened I couldn't live with myself knowing how bad he was hurt. There was a cut beside his lips, multiple places all over his legs, his face. I couldn't look at him without bursting into tears.
Part of me wished I was there trying to get them to not hurt him. Part of me wished it was me instead of him. Part of me wished he lived far away so this wouldn't ever happen to him again. One of the guys who beat him lived right beside my apartment. He didn't know that I knew or that I'm dating him. I didn't speak to him for the next one year. Ryan took 2 weeks to heal. I would see him a few times in a week when he'd be sitting on the couch by his balcony.
After that incident his mother was almost always home. I couldn't visit him very often but he would sometimes come down to play with the very kids who hit him. I never understood why he did that. Why would he keep going back to something that hurt him so bad.
It kept happening. They kept hitting him. He kept arriving at the spot. Soon I found out how much he loved pain... Both mental and physical.
I was having my breakfast one day at around 10am when my mother barged into the dining room to tell me that Ryan tried to jump from the 2nd floor. Does love really hurt this bad? I jumped out of my chair and rushed down. I saw a number of people standing outside his apartment. I went inside. His mom was there. She told me his father was on his way home. I stood there static. I couldn't move. He didn't jump but he was about to. What if he did? He didn't look up to see me. His eyes wouldn't meet mine. 
When I finally could move, I went up to him sat beside him and asked him the only thing that came into my mind, "How could you do this to them? You are their child. You mean every single fucking thing to them!!" "You don't have to think about me or your friends... Think about your parents think about your family!!"
After 3 mins of silence he finally said something. "Funny you know.... "
I am frowned. "What? What do you mean?"
..... "It's funny how you think that I mean the world to them. They only love me when I'm at my best. When I'm not... All they do is pressurize me so that I can be my best and they can find a reason to love me. I realized this at a very early age. The sooner you realize it the better for you"
A few minutes pass by... I'm still staring at the floor.
"Did you keep going back to the place where they beat you just to convert the internal pain into external pain so it would heal?"
He nodded.
".... And did you jump because it didn't help?"
"I'm sorry" He said
   "What?"
"I'm sorry if me jumping off the 2nd floor scared you.... But I just couldn't with myself."
I didn't want to tell him that he not only scared me, he hurt me but then he would blame himself all over again.
I wanted to run. Away. Far away. Where no one could see the tears rolling down my cheeks. I had to go. He couldn't see my tears. Not today. I held his hand and hugged him in a way he could not see my watery eyes.
Then... I left.