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Ryan couldn't take the shame of what had happened the night before. He had tried for years to hide his problems, and had gotten away with it. He had been ultra secretive, and no one had found out. But had had gotten sloppy recently. He'd grown complacent, thinking, 'they haven't caught me, not once in the many years I've been doing this'. He forgot that the reason that he didn't get caught was because he'd been paranoid, covering his tracks every step of the way.

After he sank down and cried like crazy, for a good while, he got up. He unlocked the door, walking out of the bathroom. He had a strange feeling of being elated, as though his head and feet were no longer connected.

A twisted, maniac grin spread across Ryan's face. No, he didn't have to live with the shame of them finding out. He could prevent them from taking him to a crazy ward. Everything he was doing, it could all get solved in a heartbeat.

He walked into the kitchen, and poured himself a tall glass of cold water. He allowed the water to slosh over the top, before pulling it away. He didn't bother turning off the tap.

As he was headed back to the bathroom, his phone began to ring. He ignored it. There was no one he wanted to talk to now. No one at all. He'd let everyone he cared for down. He had to suffer for this, and hopefully die for it too.

In the bathroom, he picked up an eyeliner stick that he'd left on the countertop, screwing it so that most of the makeup was outside. Then, he stepped up to the mirror, and wrote in fairly large print, as to be as legible as possible,

"Because I failed you all again"

Then, he sent the spent eyeliner onto the counter. "It'll do." He whispered to himself. Then, he opened the medicine cabinet. Inside, a large bottle of sleeping pills. It was mostly full. Ryan set his glass onto the counter.

Then, he picked up the bottle, prying off the top. He spilled the pills onto the counter, little red things that could almost be mistaken for advil.

He couldn't help but smile. Advil was meat to take away your pain. These pills, which looked just like it, were going to take away his pain. He scooped up several in his hand, picking up the glass with the other. He nearly dropped it due to the condensation.

There was still time to back out of this. Ryan's phone was ringing near continuously. Whoever it was, they wanted to get in contact with him, pretty fucking badly. He didn't care. He tossed the pills into his mouth, sloshing them down with water. Then, more pills, more water, and another handful of the tiny red things, before another couple gulps of water.

But what if it wasn't enough? Ryan thought desperately. Even though he was already feeling a little tired, he didn't want to risk surviving this. He needed more.

Desperately, he lunged for the still open cabinet. Rifling through it, he came up with a somewhat rusty straight razor, and a bottle of extra strength aspirin. He gave it a shake, and the pills rattled reassuringly inside. He yanked the top off it, pouring the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. He grimaced at the awful taste, but he didn't care. None of this would matter in a few minutes.

Then, he grabbed up the razor, slashing open his wrist deeply. He could see the while meat, before the blood started bubbling up. Then, the pain came. He let out a whine, clutching his hand to his chest, falling to his knees, soaking himself in blood in the process.

As he lay on the floor, his phone kept ringing, maddeningly. His vision began to grow dim around the edges. He knew he didn't have much time left. Then, he heard his front door slam open, like someone had kicked it down.

"Ryan!" Brendon's frantic voice came, before everything went black.