DUUUUUUUN, CHAPPPPTAAAA TWENTY NIIINE
(totally not editted)
HELL YESSSSSS, ITS COMING FOLKS, ITS COMING
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.:~* RYDER *~:.
I turned page after page in the yearbook. Stupid, you’re supposed to be forgetting about him. But the guilt wouldn’t stop making fluttering motions in my stomach. But even worse, the anger wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t see him at school today.
I wasn’t even sure I was entirely angry with him anymore. I think I was just mad at everything. Whatever, why not put it on him? He doesn’t care.
Finally I turned the page and found the people who’s last name started with S. One more page later and I found his picture.
Nathan Strauss. His hair swept across his face. He wasn’t smiling. On some level, it looked like this boy was incapable of showing any expression. On another level, he looked close to tears. I brushed my thumb over the face void of everything. I brought the book closer to my face and scanned it over until I picked up every detail. The sweater pulled tight around his neck. The light shadows under the eyes. The mat of hair. I noticed a shadow under one of the eyes, and for a second I figured it was from his hair. But after further thought, I didn’t dismiss the idea of a bruise.
Suddenly I had a weird idea. I kneeled in front of my bed and from under it I pulled out my other yearbooks. I chose the one from freshman year. I rolled my eyes at my goofy face. Nice picture Ryder. I found his picture and frowned.
Messy hair. Insecure posture. Sad eyes. No smile. This irritated me. I grabbed other older yearbooks. Eighth grade. Seventh grade. Sixth grade. He looked the same. Sad. Lost. Alone.
Fifth grade looked weird. He still looked sad. But he also looked scared.
I didn’t even know we’ve been going to the same school since elementary. I’ve never heard of him before this year. Was that possible?
I didn’t even want to look at his fourth grade picture. It would just look the same. Little Nathan getting smaller and smaller with a decreasing glint of light in his eyes.
I found Strauss in the yearbook. And he was smiling.
I unintentionally sighed in shock. Hell, he was adorable. He was smiling this childish, knowing smile. A dimple marked one side of his face. I could just imagine the moment. He would see his friends in line behind the photography, watching, trying to make him laugh. He would bite his lip and mumble at them to stop, before looking back at the camera and grinning like the perfect child.
Comparing that picture to the others, it was hard to believe it was the same person.
Finally I forced myself to forget the idea and shut all the yearbooks, returning them to under the bed.
My phone rang and I looked at the caller.
‘Nathan’ flashed on the screen. My jaw dropped and my heart stopped. He was calling me? What does he want? I took ten seconds of deep thought before a surge of emotion flowed through me. I pressed answer.
“Hello?” I said.
Unexpectedly there was no answer. I glared at the wall in front of me. “Hello?” I said slightly more harshly.
I heard breathing so he was obviously there. My teeth clench. Yeah, mistake for answer the phone. Why the hell was he calling me? And why the hell did I answer? He still didn’t speak. This didn’t make sense. Fuck. I don’t want to hear his voice.
I moved my finger to the end button.
“Ryder…” A voice finally came through. I tensed up. “I–”
“Don’t ever talk to me again.”
I ended the call.
.:~* NATHAN *~:.
“…love you.” I whispered, now to myself. The line was dead. I never expected him to actually wait long enough to hear me. I didn’t expect him to answer.
But it’s okay. I felt the pain of his words, but it’s okay. All I wanted was to hear his voice.
I dropped my phone and lay still on the floor, staring at the wall.
I couldn’t move.
He left sometime this morning, I don’t know when. My body was sore, everywhere, from everything. From him, from work, but Jonah, from everything. I hadn’t moved all day and the setting sun slowly settled the room into darkness. I could barely stay awake. I tried to sit up but I gasped and collapsed back to the ground, surrounded with glass and blood.
It was disgusting.
I give up.
I lay there. Not moving. Breathing as slow as possible as to not hurt my ribs. After a few hours of slipping in and out of consciousness, hunger started creeping on me. I winced and swallowed some spit. If I couldn’t even pull myself up, there was no way I’d be able to walk to the kitchen.
I felt tears slowly, one after the other, slip down my face. I felt a sob bubble in my throat.
I moved my hand slowly and reached for a large piece of green glass from the broken beer bottle. I grasped and stared at it, then placed it against my wrist.
I looked at the lines I could have trace years ago.
I pressed it against the fading lines and winced. Stop it Nate, why would you cause yourself more pain?
Because it will make my life go away. It was worth it. I want to die.
I slid it across as hard as I could, and groaned because it didn’t go too deep. I felt more tears fall down my face.
Suddenly a shoe stomped on my hand and I yelped.
“Nathan…shame on you.”
I stared up at him.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
He pressed against my hand until I dropped the glass, then knelt down and brushed the hair out of my face, “Don’t be selfish.”
“…why…” I whispered hoarsely. Why would he even…to this kind of stuff with me? Why was he here? AGAIN?
“Why? Because…you look beautiful when you cry.” He gave a drunk laugh and I stared back with tears still pooling over my eyes.
“I hate you…” I whispered past the fear that made my lips tremble. “I–”
He gripped my wrist, the one I had been trying to cut, with force and I cried out. “Hate me? You know, you’ve been obedient until recently. I think I’ve given you a little too much freedom. I’m tired of this. For now on, you’ll be with me. You’ve lost your privilege.”
“You’re drunk…” I whimpered.
He grinned wickedly. “No I’m not.” But almost as if to mock me he pulled out a small canteen and took a swig. He chuckled and said, “drink.” He put it too my lips but I rolled my head away. He didn’t like that. He grabbed my jaw and forced liquid into my mouth. It burned my tongue and scratched my throat. I began coughing and pain shot through my chest. I rolled into myself and he laughed.
“I hope you don’t die.” He laughed again. He got up and began kicking all the shards of glass out of my reach. He picked up the one I had been using and brought it to my chest.
“You were tracing your scars.” He started. He started at the top of my shoulder and brought it slowly across my chest. I shut my eyes and held in the scream. “If you try to do what your idiot father tried, I will make you feel something worse than death.”
“I’m already in hell.” I seethed to myself. I swear, it didn’t even pass my lips. But immediately he grabbed my face glared.
“This isn’t hell. But you will feel it.”
My heart rate quickened in fear. His eyes lost some rage as he leaned closer and kissed my temple, trailing down until he pressed against my mouth. I whimpered.
I whimpered and shook my head, or at least tried to. Why?! Why would he even want to do anything with me? Look at me! I’m disgusting! In the state I was in, even more so. He cupped my face with his hand and pretended to be gentle. He pulled me closer by my arm and I gripped his shirt, trying to push him away.
He was so…rough. He didn’t care about what I was feeling through it, or if I wasn’t responding. He went too fast. I didn’t like it.
“You’re disgusting.” He whispered into my ear. “That boy was blind to see something in you. Look at you. I hope you didn’t honestly think someone could love you.”
I know.
“Aren’t I lucky he hates you so much now?”
Yeah.
“Have you given up yet?”
Yeah.
“Yes or no?”
Another tear ran off the side of my face as I stared back at him and nodded slowly. He grinned and muttered, “Good boy.”