Slowly kill himself.
Ryan didn't care. About anything now. Not Spencer, who lied to him. Not Brendon and his fucking girlfriend. Spencer lied to him! Oh God, who knows what Spencer could've told Brendon. Maybe something along the lines of, "Hey Bren, Ryan cuts himself because he's totally in love with you." And Brendon probably would have laughed.
Anger and sorrow ran down both of his cheeks as he walked in his house. His dad was already passed out on the couch, empty bottle hanging limp in his hand. He stormed up the stairs to his room, slamming it shut, and locking it.
Ryan looked at his phone, which was beeping with a red light flashing. Seven text messages from Spencer. He didn't bother to read them; he didn't care what Spencer had to say anymore. They were just words. Two text messages from Brendon: Txt me bck and Ry? God, what does he want?
Ryan wouldn't reply. To any of them. He knew what he was going to do. Slowly kill himself. Isolating himself from everything. Food, "friends", everything that was outside of his door.
But first, Ryan had to do one thing. He quickly scurried off into his bathroom, grabbing the small razor with the shiny, clean blade. Ryan quickly slid it onto the pale skin on the inside of his left arm. It stung, of course. But that was the way Ryan liked it. He looks down, watching as the ruby, red blood poured out onto his pale arms.
He remembered what he promised Spencer, about not cutting anymore. Well, fuck it. Spencer lied to him. Ryan slid the razor across the inside of his wrist. More blood. Brendon. Another cut. More blood. Brendon and his stupid girlfriend. Another cut. More blood. Everything else. Five more cuts. More blood.
"Ryan!" He could hear footsteps stomping up the stairs. It wasn't his dad's voice. His bedroom door was locked. No one could get in. Only Ryan could get out. He watched as the blood continued to pour out of his arm, slowly turning his pale skin into a bright red.
The footsteps became closer, until there was banging on his bedroom door. "Ryan!" Ryan's eyes welled up with tears, sliding the razor across his arm one more time. It hurt, so much. It stung as more blood came out. He felt light-headed now, allowing his head to hang forward, toward the sink. Some of his blood got on the bathroom counter, making a small pool of blood there.
"Ryan?!" Ryan couldn't recognize this voice, his brain wasn't getting enough oxygen as he lost more blood. The bedroom door opened. He closed his eyes tightly, as he heard foot steps making their way into his bathroom.
"Ryan?" Ryan felt someone behind him. He slowly tilted his head forward, looking at the reflection of the person behind him in the mirror.
Ryan stared into those chocolate colored eyes.
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