|Eight|

•Week Seven• (4)

(I forgot how to end a story. Send help pls)

I struggled to get away from them, pulling my arm until I felt like it would come out of its socket. I frantically tried to get my mind to work, but I was freezing up. My brain and body were short-circuiting, and the person's grip tightened more and more around my wrist.

I carefully brought the knife to their hand, using the blade to pry it off. I cut into their fingers, making more blood pour out. I could feel their hand tremble, but they still didn't pull away. It felt like they were holding onto dear life, afraid of letting go.

I was scared, everything about this person made me scared.

I tried stabbing my knife deeper into their hand, but abruptly stopped when they were finally brave enough to come all the way around the corner.

My face fell, and I dropped the knife in absolute horror. My heart twisted with so many emotions I felt like I was choking, I couldn't breathe.

Ryan quietly let go of my wrist, shaking so badly I thought he would shatter like a teacup. He was pale and dripping with blood from head to toe, making it painful to look at him.

He was about to faint from exhaustion, I could tell, and I could also tell that I was about to faint as well.

His clothes were tattered and ripped, almost like someone had used their own fingernails to tear through his shirt.
His eyes were wide and bloodshot, holding so much pain and trauma I couldn't even begin to comprehend it all.

I couldn't even comprehend how he was alive. He was dead, I saw the remains, I mourned over him.

But he was standing right in front of me, his hand fresh with new blood from me stabbing him with the knife. I felt a wave of so many thoughts and feelings, mixing into raging emotions that began to drown me in deadly waves, pulling me more and more into a hole I didn't want to go down.

I didn't want to cry when I was literally about to go murder someone, but as I stared at Ryan and his murky eyes, I couldn't help but crumple and give into the sobs that were fighting to get out.

I couldn't tell if my heart was mending or ripping because it just hurt. It all hurt. Ryan was here and now everything was flooding at me, everything was trying to smother me. The guilt, the sadness, the regret, the horror, the confusion, the destructive thoughts, everything. They all felt so heavy now that Ryan was in front of me, now that I knew Ryan was okay.

He rushed up the few steps that were between us, stopping at the step I was crying on. He hesitated, his face filled with an emotion I didn't recognize.
He took me into his arms, trying to calm me down.

"It's okay, it's okay," he said, squeezing me close to him. All the blood that was covering him slowly began to envelope me, sticking to my skin the same way all those murderous thoughts stuck to my brain.

I didn't expect to be screaming and sobbing into Ryan's shoulder, I didn't expect to ever see him again.

But he was here, and I should be happy. I should be so relieved and exhilarated, but I'm in so much fucking pain and I feel like I'm dying. My heart is squeezing, bleeding out all the emotions I tried to get rid of by using the knife.

Ryan didn't say anything else, but he didn't stop shaking. He kept me close to him, unsure of what to do. He's alive, he's alive.

He is  alive, so why am I not happy?

............ Because Jasper is still alive, too.

And now that Ryan was here, both of them had to watch me murder Jasper.

Both of them were going to leave me again.

I still had to murder Jasper because it was the only way the aching in my mind would stop, but the aching in my heart would only increase if I killed someone again.

Ryan's bloodied hand brushed against my hair, gently trying to tell me he was still here. He wasn't going to let go of me.

I cried harder, hoping the tears would somehow fix everything. They didn't, they just made things worse. They made things so much worse.

I dug my nails into his back, afraid he'll slip from my grasp. Afraid he'll fade away, afraid this was all just some trick my cruel mind was playing on me.

Why was everything hurting so much? Why couldn't I choose between death and my brothers?

Why is it hard for me to even choose? It shouldn't be hard, it shouldn't be difficult. I hate who I am now, I just want to go back to the person I used to be, the person Jack and Ryan cared about. But I can't because I'm mentally tied to murder and death, I'm trapped in a cycle of killing victim after victim after victim. I don't know how to escape from myself, I don't know how to come back from what I've done, and I don't know how to stop.

Everything was just cruel and hopeless now, even with Ryan with me.

He pulled away, reaching out to me but pulling away when he suddenly remembered he had blood covering his hands. He gave me a worried smile instead, but his eyes were still wide with what I thought was fear, but I realized it could also be from pure excitement.

Was he excited about something? Why would he be happy and excited at a time like this? Not that I was complaining, seeing him lighten up was one of the best things in the world. One of the best things I've ever seen. I wish he got excited about things more often, but in this world it was difficult to look forward to anything at all.

We were all spiraling into our own graves, nothing we do mattering in the long run. We're destined to never matter, so why should we ever be happy?

Ryan's eyes glistened as he let go of me completely, wiping the blood on his hands against the white walls as his lips quirked into a small smile.

The blood smeared, beginning to run down the crevices in the wall. I stared at it, a cold feeling replacing everything else. I turned to look at Ryan, my tears blurring my vision.

He took my hand, starting to lead me down the dark staircase. "I know what will make you feel better."

I looked back up to the door where Jack was just behind, laying unconscious and alone. For some reason I wanted to go back to him, for some reason I didn't want to go down here with Ryan.

Whatever he was leading me to, I knew it wouldn't make me feel better.

I looked back at Ryan, seeing his smile widen with every step downward we took together. I didn't want to go down here anymore, but I felt like I wasn't in control anymore, I wasn't moving my own body anymore.

If Ryan thought it would make me feel better, then it probably would. I was just scared, that's all.

I wasn't sure what I was so scared of, though.