|Eight|

•Week Seven• (6)

(TW: angst, gore, I mean a lot of gore, probably a lot of angst too, Ryan)

I was finally able to cry out, I was finally able to fully scream when Ryan opened the door all the way.

Waves of blood poured out of the room, drowning my shoes as a puddle was being formed. The red stained everything, tore everything, destroyed everything. The blood looked like all the pain I had endured through all of this, it looked like everything I had done to people.

My mind and heart swirled together, sharing all the pain they were simultaneously going through, linking it all together until I couldn't see anything anymore. Until I couldn't hear or breathe or feel anything but horror and pain.

Despite all of this, Ryan still forced me inside. He still hurt me, he still ripped my heart into pieces.

I prayed what I thought he was wasn't true, but it was true. Everything he had told me was a lie, everything he had done was just a lie. He had played with my emotions, he had played with me until I had snapped.

I felt like he used me.

But he couldn't have, he was innocent and pure. This isn't his fault, right? He didn't do anything to anyone..... He was just trying to protect Jack and I.

My throat burned with the need to throw up as I finally saw what Ryan was so excited about.

Blood streamed out of dozens of dead bodies that weren't here before. The old ones had been replaced.
All the bodies had a gaping hole in their chest, right where their heart was supposed to be. I didn't want to look, but I couldn't stop staring at the missing spot in all the corpses.

Ryan pulled me farther into the room, carelessly squishing the bodies under his feet. I stumbled over them, quietly following even though I didn't want to, even though I wanted to die right then and there.

Blood squirmed under my shoes, leaking into them and staining my socks as Ryan continued to dig through the sea of dead bodies. Most of which had almost been completely decapitated.

The axe. It was him, wasn't it? It had always been him.

I pulled my eyes away from him, feeling the cold tears run down my cheeks.
I became a murderer to protect Jack and Ryan, and now I could see that everything I had done was draining into a dark hole, into the hole where nothing really mattered. I became a murderer to protect my brother who was the murderer.

The bathroom in the café, he had attacked that man. The guy hadn't tried to protect Ryan, he had tried to protect himself from Ryan.

The body Jack and I found in Ryan's room. No one had planted it, Ryan had killed someone in there and hadn't had time to hide it.

The rope burns. Ryan hadn't tried to save Annie, he was the one that made the rope unsafe for her.

The stuff under the sink, that was his.

The knives, the strangling, the axes.

It was all him.

It was all because of him, this was all his doing. He made me what I am now, he turned me into a monster for no fucking reason. I gave my soul away for him, but I didn't have to. Knowing that I could have prevented the murder of all of those people made a headache pierce my brain, making me stumble to keep up with Ryan even more.

I felt like the deeper I went into the room, the more cemented my heart became, the more it hurt to breathe.

I killed people for no reason. I thought I had a purpose for doing it, but now, I knew that I just did it because Ryan had manipulated me by lying to me this whole time. He told me he was scared, he told me he was in danger, he told me.

I froze, refusing to go further into the room. My mind throbbed against my skull, all the guilt thrashing against my body like how those victims had thrashed against the knives I had used on them. I had murdered them for no reason, I was a monster.

But so was Ryan.

When we left the staircase, my brain tugged at me to take the knife. I didn't understand why I had to take it back then, I didn't understand why I had to bring it if Ryan was going to make me happy. But I knew why now, Ryan was crazy and was going to hurt me.

He was going to hurt me.

I had to protect myself from him, but I can't. He's still my brother, I still love him. Even though my heart hurts whenever I look at him, even though I'm so disgusted and angry and horrified by everything he's done.

Why did he do all of this? Why?

Ryan abruptly stopped, a small giggle leaving him as he turned back to look at me. His eyes sparkled with insanity, something that was colder than I could have ever imagined. He gripped my hand until I couldn't feel my fingers anymore, bringing me to the middle of the room.

I couldn't see what was at the center of everything because the bodies stacked up so high I could barely see past them.

The bodies of workers, doctors, nurses, Crows, innocent people. They were all here, dragged down the stairs to the entrance I believed was hell.
Ryan had messed with their bodies, cutting off body parts and dissecting pieces of them.

It made me more than sick, it made me feel so much empathy that I couldn't even stand anymore. I felt like Ryan had been picking pieces of me apart, too. This whole time he was cutting the strings to my heart, cutting out the parts of my mind that were really me. He had turned me into a murderer, using lies. Lies that clouded the better part of me, lies that ate my soul.

Ryan finally let go, and when I saw what he really wanted to show me, what he had done for me, I puked.

I crumpled to the ground, my stomach upset with everything. I threw up until it hurt, until it burned my throat, until I thought I was puking out my own guts. My heart fell to my stomach, making it heavy with all the poison Ryan had put there.

I was choking on it all, struggling to hack out the occasional bits of blood.

Tears fell from my eyes, pricking my face as I struggled to stop the puking.

As I struggled to not use the knife on myself at that very moment.  

(Ignore spelling mistakes besties)