A short story, based on a 13 year old Ryan with mental problems. Surprisingly, people liked this.
Ryan pleaded to his father. George turned to face the tremboling boy, fixing him with an anguished gaze that must of shot through him like a sharp, silver blade.
"You!" He yelled.
The 13 year old was paralyzed with fear. George shoved him at the wall, sending a shockwave of pain throughout his body as he fell, whimpering, to the ground. Ryan's mother screamed a horrible, ear-splitting sound that gave everyone goosebumps.
"You think you can come into this home and tell me what to do!?"
The man yelled, spit flying from his open mouth, leaving everyone to breathe in the horrible stench of alcohol in his breath. The terrifying tone silencing even the dark presence of the cold night. Ryan slowly stumbled to his feet, maintaining balance by leaning against the now cracked wall. He looked bravely into his fathers hollow eyes.
"This house is not a home. Im better off without this burden im supposed to call a family. I know i dont deserve any of this"
Ryan said, in a quiet yet defiant tone of voice, turning to walk out the door of that retched place for the last time. Suddenly there was a shuffling noise and a muffled scream.
"Walk out that door and your boney back will be the last thing your mother ever sees"
Ryan turned again, his dreams of being able to leave crashing down around him like tumbling walls. He could believe what he saw, doesnt mean he wasnt shocked.
"George, please dont do this!"
The mother pleaded to the man holding a knife at her fault, the reflection of the blade highlighting the beautiful green in her terrifyed eyes. He pulled her closer, and made slow cut down her cheek, before placing it at her throat again, hard enough that droplets of blood began appearing.
"I think i will do what i please"
He snarled, his rusty voice getting deeper by the word. Suddenly, there was a loud gunshot from the doorway. Dust from the ceiling clouding his vision, he threw the mother at the wall, knocking her out. She looked bad, cuts on her neck, face and arm. A purple lip, and she hasnt been walking properly for a while now. How is she taking all of this? The dust finally cleared, and George looked up to see the beaten up son of his pointing a gun at his own fathers head. Yet the idea of it didnts seem to frighten George very much.
"you dont have the guts to do it"
He said, speaking more to the barrel of the gun that was pointing at his head then to Ryan himself, while picking up a heavy wooden plank on the floor next to him, preparing to use it on the small boy.
"Is That what you think?"
Ryan said, gathering more courage by the second, after all, he was the one with the power.
"I know so. Your weak. You dont have the balls to pull of something like that."
"Just because you think it makes it true huh?! Thats not the way the world works! It doesnt revolve around you! Thirteen years i took it all in! The beatings! The screaming matches between you and mum! I'm younger that you, and i have felt more pain than you could ever imagine! By the time i come home from school, your already drunk and you have some downtown whore in your room!"
Ryan was screaming at his father, his whole body shaking from tension and fear. Then George cracked, throwing the plank at ryan, knocking him over and the gun sliding away from him. George slowly walked over and picked up the gun, standing over Ryan, looking at him with a mingled expression on his face, pointing the gun between his own sons eyes.
"Dad! Do you really want to do this?! Do you really want to kill your only child!? Think of how lonely you would be if-"
"think of how lonely i would BE? Look at how lonely that i AM George! Do you have any idea how fucking awful it feels?"
Tears were spalshing down the fathers angry red cheeks. Could he possibly be just feeling some remorse for what he has been doing?
"Actually. Yeah, i do"
"No. Not like me! I'm married with a son and wife that i beat up! you know why i do it? Coz i drink! you know why i drink? Coz im lonely!"
"Do you have any idea what its like to be in a crowded room and not be seen? You shoot me, no one will miss me all that much"
George just towered over him, gun still pointing in between Ryans eyes. What was he doing? After all he'd done he wanted to end somebody elses life to solve it. It doesnt work like that.
George lowered the gun, an extremeley sad and sympathetic look in his eyes. He then held out his hand, making ryan flinch, but when realizing what he was doing, ryan took it, his dad actually helping him to his feet.
"You know, your right."
The thirteen year old was soo curious as to why he had all of a sudden changed his dad for the better.
"I dont want to hurt you. But all the times i did, all the times i hurt your mother. I cant bare it."
He was using the voice that says 'I just solved my problem, and realised that the answer is in my hand'
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
Ryan stuttered to his father, worried about where this was going. George looked at the gun down in his hand, bringing it up to his head.
"No Dad! You cant do that!"
Ryan yelled, pleading in his voice.
"Sorry Son. I Love You. I Love Your Mum To. And i hope she is alright"
And then he was gone. Just the brutal shell he left behind was lying in front of me, blood spilling from the self inflicted wound.
His mother was stirring, though he could hardly see her through the tears clouding his vision.
"Whats going on? What did you do!?"
She was screaming at him, he doesnt know why. She gestures to the gun in his hand, he cant even remember it getting there. Why was she crying? He looked down.
"what the hell! what happened?!"
Ryan yelled at her. She was on the floor now sobbing.
"You shot him! You shot him Ry! Dont you remember?"
He stopped. Looking at the gun. Hard. Concentrating on his memories.Then he remembered.
What was wrong with him?