This Can't Be The End

Chapter 57

Trigger Warning

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E n s l e e y P O V

I wake up with a heavy feeling on my stomach, and my thoughts drift to the worst.

Then, I remember Ryver, and how I thought it would be a good idea to see him.

The kiss I gave him after I took a few pills I managed to smuggle from a party, the fact that he wanted me.

But now what?

I want to hope for the best, but I know that I shouldn't.

My worries weren't that far off from what happened only minutes later.

After I snuggled into Ryver's chest, his arm that was tight around my body relaxed.

He was awake.

I close my eyes hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep, I have gotten much sleep in so long that isn't induced by too many pills or alcohol.

I drift back to sleep somewhat quickly, until I'm woken up by a rough voice.

"Ensleey?" Ryver's morning voice says, I want to sigh at the relaxing feeling of Ryver's body on mine, but it's completely gone in a split second.

He's out of bed even faster, getting dressed quickly in a pair of sweats that are in his top drawer.

I get up too, but being completely naked, I hide my body with the comforter, and my clothes are thrown at me next.

"Get dressed," he grumbles.

"Where are you going?" I ask when he's at his bedroom door.

"I'm leaving until you're dressed, I don't need to see you like this again," his words sting, though I can't argue before he's gone.

I scramble for my jeans and tee from yesterday and get them on even quicker before leaving the bedroom.

I find Ryver seated on a chair at his kitchen table, his head in his arms, his auburn hair a mess, and when he finally looks over at me?

I don't see the loving eyes of the boy I love more than life itself. Instead, I am met with his cold stare and rigid body posture. His eyes seem to tell a thousand different stories, and just like the first time my eyes were on his, I am transfixed, though now the wonder of I managed to fuck this up.

The tattoo that still lies on his wrist catches my eye. I wonder if he's going to remove it, or at least cover it.

I wouldn't blame him. I wouldn't blame him if he erased me from his mind even.

Our story was perfect from an outsider's perspective, the quiet girl falling in love with the jock.

What most don't see is the lies tangled in between the seams, the reality that I'm not a quiet nerd, like in most love stories, but am the fucked up girl who just doesn't want to land herself in more trouble and obviously, the jock can't be perfect either. It will never end like in a tale of love, there's pain, there's hurt and too much reality.

Ryver finally notices me, but he doesn't say anything, I can see the evidence of his hangover from his red-rimmed eyes.

I'm about to ring out an apology, finally revealing what keeps haunting me in the dead of the the night. But of course, Ryver expects it.

"I don't want to hear any of it Ensleey, last night was a mistake, don't think differently."

"I don't think it was a mistake," I mumble.

"Of course it was, I would never touch you sober after the shit you pulled," his laugh is one I've never heard, mean and evil, and in a way that doesn't sound like Ryver Webb.

"I-I never-"

"Leave." His tone is final, filled with the same hurt.

"I can't," is my curt reply, it's all I can manage with the tears that are close to being seen.

"Leave, before I say too much."

"Do it, tell me what you think of me" I know I'm only asking for trouble with the question, just like when I was sixteen and Parker had broken yet another one of our many promises.

Words can tear you up inside until you are nothing but the shredded pieces of your remains, and I have always been a lover of such torture.

I want Ryver to tear me apart in a second, I'm already broken. What is another bullet to an empty chest? I am well aware that if a heart is still there it is rotten and probably not beating as it should.

His nostrils flared, and he slowly rose from the chair, his eyes staring me down, I felt small under his gaze. I just wanted to run and hide. Instead, I stood not breaking away, waiting.

He doesn't say anything at first as if trying to piece what he thinks differently but then quickly he says the words I never expected from him.

"Your cheating whore, who cares about no one but herself- I wish I never met you."

I'm caught off guard not because I didn't expect the truth but just not like that from him, ever. I turn away from him, not being able to control my emotions as slowly the tears I'm choking down are streaming down my face, I am not sure how I got to the door or out but I know I didn't around, when I'm in the safety of my car my sobs turned louder, no one there to stop me from the events that were about to occur.

I contemplated what to do then thought I'd be better off waiting until I was home before I let that side of me out.

Though once I was, I wouldn't be able to stop the rippling between the girl I once promised to never be again, coming into the show.

There was no stopping me when my feet dragged up the steps of Aunt Lilly's house, and I was too far gone in my mind when I finally found the razor, which would no doubt bring me relief until I had something better to numb the pain.

The razor drags slowly down the inside of my wrist, red blood bleeding out slowly, reminding me of the first time I did.

"What the fuck is on your arm?!" Parker's drunken voice echoed loudly.

"Nothing," I laughed maniacally like a crazy person. Parker hadn't given me anything in a week, told me I had to work for it.

I know there's nothing that will piss him off, like my body not being perfect for his liking.

I needed something to stop the raging headache, surprisingly the burn of the razor was helpful.

 Even with how angry Parker was I didn't get my way instead he went and fucked someone else and told me I need to get my act together.

Sometimes when Parker comes into my mind, I wonder if we would have been still together if the demons of his past came back and dragged him down back to the hell he was in, except unlike before he had held onto me like I was his lifeline, forcing me to tumble along with him.

Sometimes I wonder if I could have stopped him, a recurring thought that comes to show at three in the morning.

To stop the foolish thoughts I draw more blood until I don't think I can anymore.

My feet drag across the hardwood sluggishly until I get to my room.

I fall asleep with tears falling down my face and an aching heart.

- - - 

Thank you to anyone still on this rollercoaster.

I'm really trying to get this done. I will be doing a better edit at some point, for now just focusing on making this decent enough to be posted.

R.E