never coming home

86 5 0
                                    


RYAN POV

The front door stares at me menacingly. It looks like a face.

The paneled front with its square nose and, two frosted glass windows with the spiderweb of cracks in the corner make for cloudy - looking eyes, the door handle a sideways smile.

My hands shake as I reach up to grab the handle, but I need to get something to wear other than my gross shoes or that Brendon kid's jacket. The door opens. I look around quickly before stepping in. No sign of Dad. Good.

Quietly, I walk up the stairs to get to my bedroom. Well, what used  to be my bedroom. I search through the closet for something to wear, where I find a thin black vest and a floral patterned shirt. Next to them sit a thick black coat. I take those two and stuff them into the backpack  I carried with me everywhere. I start to turn and leave the room when I hear loud, obnoxious footsteps. Dad's here.

"shit" I whisper, and throw myself into the closet as quietly as you can throw yourself into something. I kick the door shut with my feet, accidentally causing a loud THUMP  making me cringe. Knowing my dad, though, he's probably too drunk to hear it. 

I sit still, not moving a single muscle, in case his BAC isn't at 0 point fucking 8 quite yet. I can hear him groan and probably fall into his bed. I sigh with relief. Safe for now.

I sneak out through the window, probably the safest option considering he could still be awake and sober enough to realise that he isn't alone. I tighten Joey's jacket over my shoulders and  dash out into the night, just like the day I made the first desicion, when I finally decided that I'm never going back home.


(A/N This ending was pretty crap but I promise it'll get bette)

mystery boyWhere stories live. Discover now