|Eight|

•Week Six• (5)

(Who's ready for it to go downhillllllllll?)

I struggled to let out a breath, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Why were they showing all of this on TV? All the blood, the body, the remains.
I could see yellow tape in the background, streaming across a shattered window. Glass had fallen into the corpse's hands, serrating the skin.

It hurt, the images were burning my mind, stabbing me with thoughts I tried getting rid of. I thought I was cured, I thought I was free. I've tried so hard, but maybe, I'm not meant to go back to normal. Maybe, I was meant to be a murderer........ Maybe that's who I am. A heartless murderer, undeserving of Jack and Ryan. They were innocent and so young, still filled with care for the world. Everything I've worked so hard on, everything I tried to fix about the world was completely drained from me when I picked up the butcher knife. And maybe, that's what made me so addicted to it.

I have to let Jack and Ryan go, but I can't. I don't want to be a murderer, I don't want to be in all of this pain, I don't want to be alone.

Corpses flashed through my mind, almost taunting me. I wanted to cause others pain so that I didn't have to face my own pain, so that maybe I could be free of everything that was hurting me. But the more I murdered, the more pain it brought me, and the only way to get rid of that pain was to murder again. I was caught in a vicious loop that I knew would destroy me.

When the images on the TV changed, I immediately tore my eyes away from the screen, free from my trance. I felt a few of my tears drop onto my lap, causing me to shiver. I dug my fingernails into my palms, desperately trying to resist the urge. I didn't want to hold the butcher knife ever again, but my mind was sick and kept trying to convince me that I did. I was nothing without the knife, but I'm nothing with it, either. Nothing. I'm nothing at all.

I trembled, trying to stop the tears from pouring down my cheeks. I had to fight, but I was so exhausted. I wanted to give up, I wanted to give up on everything. God, I want it all to stop. I want my painful cries to stop, I want my burning mind to stop, I want my breathing to stop.

When I stop breathing, my heart stops, too. That's what will fix everything, I need to stop my heavy heart that keeps pumping despite everything I've done.

I uncoiled my right hand, the skin on my palm now shredded because if my nails. I carefully put my hand to my heart, hoping to feel the familiar beat I had gotten used to my whole life.
A heartbeat is what reminds us that we are human, we are alive.
I thought I would find some sort of comfort, I hoped my heart would somehow calm my mind, but I couldn't feel my heartbeat anymore. I pressed my hand against my chest, but I couldn't feel it anymore. I couldn't feel it at all.

I finally felt completely alone, I was heartless. I wasn't someone or something anymore, I'm nothing but a murderer.

I unknowingly curled my fingers again, scathing the beat up skin of my palm. I stood up, deciding that maybe talking to Ryan would distract me from everything else. Hopefully, him telling me he's not responsible for any of this would give my brain the rest it needs.
I felt horrible because a part of me really did believe he was responsible for some of this, but Ryan's not a monster. He's innocent, and it disgusts me that I could ever think otherwise.

I felt like my mind wouldn't rest until he told me I was wrong. I needed him to tell me what I was thinking wasn't true, just this once, I need him to tell me I'm wrong. Please.

My legs were shaking for some reason, but I still made it down the hallway to Ryan's room. I took a deep breath, self-consciously laying my hand on my heart in a final attempt to feel something.
Nothing.
Maybe I should be worried that my heartbeat is missing, but I just felt scared and hopeless. I felt like losing my heart was something I deserved, I took three lives and gave away my heart while doing it.

I sighed, knocking on Ryan's door. I waited, leaning against the wall to try and relax. What was I going to say? I had rehearsed everything in my head, but that all seemed to fade from my memory. Anxiety bloomed in the pit of my stomach, making its way up to my heart, just like in my nightmare. Why was I scared? Why was I terrified of Ryan? I was a murderer, I shouldn't be scared of someone as innocent as Ryan.

He didn't answer the door, so I knocked again. I was getting impatient, digging my nails deep into my arm, hoping the pain would distract me from everything else I was feeling.

I knocked again, and again, and again, and again.

Ryan didn't hear me, and he didn't answer. At first I thought that maybe my anxiety was stopping me from knocking loud enough for him to hear, but then Jack came out of his room and asked why I was banging on Ryan's door so much. if Jack could hear me from his room, Ryan should be able to hear me, too, right? So why wasn't he answering me?

Maybe he didn't want to see me right now, or maybe....

"Shit," I muttered, hoping nothing bad was happening. I prayed he was still asleep or something, he can't just be gone again. How could he have even left the building without me seeing him? He's probably just sleeping or too distracted to answer me...... Yeah.

Jack gave me a scared look, and I knew he was worried that Ryan was gone again. But he can't be gone. That's too painful for me to think about, but now I couldn't STOP thinking about it.
Jasper got to him, Jasper is torturing him, Jasper is hurting Ryan.

I quickly turned the doorknob, making some kind of noise in frustration. Jasper needs to die, I need to kill him.

It was locked and I struggled to hold back more tears. Jack came up to the door, trying to get in and frantically pushing himself up against the wood.

How could we have let this happen again? Why did we ever let this happen in the first place? Ryan was alone and hurt now, all because I was mentally chained to the TV. All because of my stupid addiction.

Jack clawed at the door, struggling to open it up. He was trying so hard it made me flinch whenever he hurt himself trying to bring the door down.

"RYAN!?" He called, and I could tell he was resorting to destructive anger so he wouldn't have to face all the hopeless sorrow he was truly feeling. I knew him, I knew he couldn't handle all the pain and hurt he felt when he realized Ryan was gone again.

I pulled him away from the door, trying to hold him so he wouldn't keep hurting himself by slamming his body against the door.

"Jack, it's okay," I said, trying to calm him down.

Violent tears were now falling from his eyes, dripping onto my arm that was wrapped around him.
"No, no! Ryan cant leave me again, this can't happen again!" Angry sobs racked his body, and I hugged him tighter to try and stop his shaking.

"Ryan's not gone," I gently lied to him, feeling his sobs worsen. "We just need to somehow get in there, I'm sure he's just asleep."

That didn't help, Jack was still crying so violently I thought he was choking. I still needed to find a way into Ryan's room, though, so I carefully let go of Jack, letting him slide onto the floor.
He curled up against the wall, trembling with more and more sobs.

I quickly went to the Living Room, pulling a pair of small scissors out from a cupboard. I went back to Ryan's room, immediately starting to try and unlock the door using the scissors.

I could feel Jack perk up behind me, but maybe that was just my imagination. I could still hear him crying uncontrollably, wailing until his voice was hoarse. I wanted to stop everything he was feeling, I wanted to take away the suffering. I knew Jack was afraid of abandonment, he always has been, but now after all of this, his fear has gotten ten times worse. Which makes Ryan's disappearance much more painful for him.

I'd sell my soul if it would make Jack feel happier, even if it only made him just a little more happy. His happiness was all I cared about, his and Ryan's.

I pulled the scissors out of the lock, taking a deep breath. I reached my other hand up to the doorknob, carefully turning it. The lock didn't stop it, and soon enough, the handle was all the way turned.

I looked back, giving Jack a hopeful smile. He shakily got up, wiping the burning tears from his eyes.

I opened the door, pushing it wide open. What I saw made me drop the scissors in horror.

(Not me listening to Wake me Up Before You Go-Go while writing this chapter lol)