Empty-Ryden

Ryan- half empty

Wait to start the song!

The stairs come closer to my nose as I slowly fall down the stairs. My face stays clear, and my face slams into the wood stairs. I fall into space, I'm floating, I'm laying there drifting away from the earth. Nothing, I do nothing. It's pointless to try to stop it. Were all going to die, why not now. I can feel my skin crawl and start to shrivel up. The gravity suddenly comes back and I'm being pulled back down. There's a bright light, almost like the sun, reaching out to me, but it's too late.

I bolt upright from where I was in my bed. The ragged breathing hangs heavy in the air. That's the only sound in my cold room. My face falls into my hands as I yell. I can hear the echo of my scream through the empty house. My breathing becomes more normal the longer I sit here. 

Its always the same fucking dream. The same fucking dream. I drift off into space and die. I just die.  But yet something always tries to save me. Why I don't know, it's not like I'm worth saving. I fall back down into the soft sheets, causing the bed to squeak under my weight. 

The ceiling above me is covered in stars.  Those cheap glow in the dark stars that you can buy at dollar tree. I put them up when I was 5 to 'keep the monsters away'. I remember my mom said it made my room have a nice feel. 

Start the song it's Have We Met Before by Tom Rosenthal

My mom. Where did she even go? She died two years ago, I inherited the house and everything else. It's weird how all of this started since she died. I remember the last time I saw her. 

"Ryan?" She asked. Slowly I started to inch towards her, her head was shaved and her eyes were sad. 

"Yah ma, it's me." Cancer. I never thought it would effect us, Me, my mom. Yet here it is digging under her skin. Making her die slowly, untreatable.  My sun is dying.

"I'm so glad you came." She smiled and me waving for me to sit down by her bedside. Slowly I inched over there sitting down by her feet. 

"How are you ma?"

"I could be better, free of cancer you know."

"Ma, I brought you some of the stuff from the house." I smiled and passed her Dad's guitar. My dad died when I was little, heart attack.  He taught me guitar, and that's all I remember about him. It's sad really.  

Ma's face lit up as she took the guitar carefully from me and started to strum a few chords. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes. Her and my dad were really close, and happy. I knew something like that would make her happy, but yet still a little sad. Everything will make you sad. But sometimes you need to be sad in order to be happy again. 

"Ryan, promise me if I die you'll do everything you said you wanted to do."

"Ma-"

"Ryan."

"You're not going to die-"

"George."

"fine I promise." It was an empty promise. 

"Good." She smiled and continued to play. 

Later that night she flat lined.  Which is just a fancy term for she died. She died on that fucking bed without me. Without me. The last face she saw wasn't her sons, it was some doctor she never knew. It was someone who could care less if she died. I should have been there, with her. 

I feel tears roll down the sides of my cheeks thinking about her and dad's guitar in the corner of the room.  I let a sob escape my lips as I flip over onto my side and cry into my pillow. 

~  ~ ~

I woke up that morning with my cheeks wet and my hands still wrapped around a pillow. I slowly start to push myself up, the bed squeaking with the shift of weight. My dog runs into my room and jumps on my bed. Laughing I get up and walk into the small kitchen. The coffee pot buzzes as I turn on the news.

The background noise helps me concentrate on my guitar. The chords, the strum beat, the whole song. It's just white noise to me, I don't pay attention. I never do thinking about it. 

"Knock, knock!" Someone shouts from outside my door after they rung my doorbell. I sigh and get up to answer the door.

"Hi Spencer." I say opening the door.

"How are you today my bud?"

"Empty."

Spencer looks at me and frowns, that's what I always say. That has become my generic mood, empty. 

"Ryan,"

"Spencer."

"You okay?"

"I'm never okay, like I said I'm empty."

Spencer sighed and sat down on my couch rubbing his forehead.

"Is there anyway in hell I can get you to therapy?"

"Nope," I say sitting down slowly next to him.

"We're screwed."

"No, I  am screwed."

"You are dude, you're fucking screwed."

+++

HOLY FUCK i'M BACK!! this is going to be one of the shorter chapters because i need to get out the idea and stuff but next chapter will b v long i swear. 

rn i'm going through some shit so hey lets write

but thanks if ur still around :)

-erica 

stay safe :0