“Hey buddy, how are you?” Spence asked.
“I’m good. I finished my homework an hour ago. How ‘bout you?”
“Eh, it’s getting there. So what’s your dad up to?” I sighed, really? Not this again.
“He’s good, working hard. Can’t complain…”
“RYAN!!! WHERE THE HELL IS MY BEER?!”
“Yup. That sure sounds like you can’t complain.” Spencer stated sarcastically. “I’m coming to get you Ryan.”
“No, Spencer please, you know my dad, he's just a jerk. He won’t do any-"
"GEORGE RYAN ROSS! GET YOU FAGGOTY, LAZY, WORTHLESS, SKINNY ASS OVER HERE!!!!!!!" My father screams at me. I walk slowly over to my father. "You lazy worthless piece of..." He pins me up against the wall and punches my face, kicks my legs, chokes me and throws me to the floor. "Haven't you ever heard of closing the god damn door?"
"No ,it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality." I get up and wipe the blood from my face and then swung my arm and hit his jaw "And I would be so thankful if you stop hitting me you piece of..." I just lost it and started wailing on him "You're a faggot, you’re a homophobic, you're too skinny, you're such an jackass, you can never do anything right. You know what that does to a kid? Huh do you?"
Then my dad grabbed my throat and threw me into a wall. I heard a sickening crack. He took both hands and started choking me while smashing my head against the wall.
"Don't you ever talk to me like that again you hear me boy? Never, or I swear I'll—"
"George! Put our son down this instant!" My mother ran over to us and my dad took a hand off my throat and placed it on her face and shoved her, "Bitch, don't get in my way."
"Mom!" I croak "You bastard don't you hurt my mom!" I was struggling to breath, to kick, to stay conscious, but to no avail, I blacked out.
Okay, it’s been three days since Ryan’s been to school. I’m freaking out man, freaking out! Should I call him again? God I’ve left like what? 60messages? Okay, that might be an overstatement but… I couldn’t help but worry. I’m going to find out what happened. I gotta find out. “Spencer!” I yelled across the lunch room. “Spencey! Come over here!” Spencer walked across the room to me.
“Bren, where’s your food? You haven’t eaten a meal since Ryan stopped showing up at school. He’s probably just sick or something.” I could tell he was lying. He wasn’t looking at me, a dead give away that he was lying.
“You’re lying. I can tell. Tell. Me. What. You. Know.” I said through gritted teeth.
He sighed. “When we were younger and still at the same school, his father would get drunker than hell and beat Ryan and his mom” I take a sharp intake of breath, who could even touch a hair on his head? Who could beat a sweet innocent little angel like Ryan? What kind of a monster could do that to a kid?
“Whenever Ryan fought back or sassed or cried or whatever, he’d be gone from school for a few days with some sort of injury caused by ‘falling down the stairs,’” Spencer continued. My lip was quivering so bad I had to bite my lip so he wouldn’t notice. “He claims his father just drinks and doesn’t beat him, but last night…” he sounded unsure. “Well Ryan forgot to hang up the phone, his dad started yelling. I heard him fight back, I heard him yell at his dad for doing something to his mom, then the next thing I know, the line goes dead and I’m driving to the hospital to find Ryan…and…and I don’t know, I found him. He’s barley alive, Brendon. God, I need to do something about his father…”
“I-I-I’m going to the hospital!” I got up and rushed to the parking lot unnoticed and drove like a mad man to the hospital. I asked for Ryan Ross and ran to his room to see him asleep. I burst into tears. “Ry…Ryan…H-how could he do this to you? How?” I grabbed his hand and hoped he would squeeze back or something. I sat down, never letting go of his hand and sobbing with my head hanging low. “Oh, god! Please don’t die, Ry, please…p-please.” I started sobbing harder and harder, after what felt like forever someone entered the room.
“Brendon, don’t hurt yourself over this. It’s not your fault. I-it’s mine…” I looked up at my friend.
“What do you mean?”
Spencer sighed. “Well, before this,” he gestured to Ryan in the hospital bed, “he and I were talking about his dad, and right before…before his dad started yelling at him for not closing the door, Ryan said that his dad is a jerk and what not.” Spencer was starting to cry. “If only I hadn’t called him…”
“MY BOY! Ryan! Oh, Ryan!” Some woman came in running towards Ryan. I assumed that she was his mom. She grabbed his hand and started sobbing.