Burned at Both Ends

7. Sinematic

Warnings:
Trigger Warning; mention of self harm, suicide attempt, talk of scars and blades.

6:00am.

I woke up in a hospital. Again.

Given, this was my first time being hospitalized by TJ's hand, but definitely not the first time in general.

I heard the steady beeping of a heart monitor and I realized my hand was being held.

I looked over and Ryan was there, half-asleep, with his head down.

I attempted to speak to him, but my voice didn't seem to work, so I squeezed his hand tightly.

"Ricky?" He looked up at me. "Oh, you're awake."

He smiled, he was so tired but God, he was so cute.

"So, the nurse said you took quite a bit of damage. The only broken bone you gained was your nose, but you're pretty scarred up." Ryan explained. "Anyways, the police got called and TJ apparently has to stay a couple nights at the county jail. The tour's gonna have to be postponed for a couple days, according to Josh, because of your condition."

I nodded.

"I'm also supposed to ask if anything hurts and if you're having trouble breathing and such." He said.

I shook my head no.

"Can you talk?" He asked.

I shook my head no, again.

"Okay. I also want to talk to you about something -- but apparently I'll be doing most of the talking." He said.
"Ricky, I want to ask why you have these scars --" He gestured to my arm. Oh God, he hasn't even seen the worst scars yet. "And when you got them. But I guess you'll have to tell me later. But, here's my first guess; you have a blade somewhere in your apartment." He said.

I just looked at him. I didn't know how to respond, nor could I, anyways.

"The nurses told me you had been to this hospital a few times before," He told me. "So, I'm guess it's also because of that possible blade in your apartment. Or far worse, but I don't want to know about the worse right now." He said. "But hey, that's just my guess."

9:00am.

I woke up for a second time this morning and could talk again. Ryan was right by my side asking questions.

"So, was my guess correct?" He asked.

I sighed. "Yeah. It was."

"Okay. Now, I want you to tell me where the blade is. Because the minute I get back to your apartment, I want it gone." He said.

"I --"

"And since your voice is back, you can go ahead and explain why you've been in here before." He said.

"Ryan, Jesus Christ. If you want answers quit lecturing me at least." I said.

"Then give me some answers, Ricky. I'm worried about you, okay?" He said.

"..." I sighed. "Okay. I've been in here before because I've tried to kill myself. Multiple times." I explained. "Taking too many sleeping pills, attempting to jump off of a balcony or roof, getting wasted beyond belief over and over again, slitting my wrists, trying to hang or drown myself, all of it. I tried all of it."

Ryan looked... Shocked, I guess.

"I stopped... A few years ago. When I was 20." I said. "I still kept the blade though... Just in case, I guess." I shrugged.

"Ricky..."

"I had nothing, Ryan. It was just me and my blades." I said. "But, when I met the band, things changed. I knew you guys needed another living member, so one night something hit me and I just stopped."

He grabbed my hand. "So, what I'm hearing is.. you've been clean for a little over two years?" He asked. "And you still have a blade?"

"...Yes." I replied.

5:00pm.

I was let out of the hospital and Ryan and I returned home. He sure as hell didn't forget our talk and I told him where I kept the blade and he threw it out immediately.

I didn't tell him where the other blades were, though.