"My mother was a whore. There's no possible way to sugar coat that. She sold her body for money and drugs. She had no respect and no dignity.
My father was her... her pimp of sorts. He'd find people for her to sleep with and then take most of her money. He had a bunch of whores to look after but my mother was his favorite. That was until she got pregnant with me. No one wanted to pay to have sex with a pregnant woman.
So she was more of a burden than anything. And after I was born, she wanted nothing to do with that life anymore. She didn't want to be a whore. She wanted to get away from the drugs and gangs and violence that surrounded her for years. But my father wouldn't let her go. He claimed I was his child and he wanted to raise me into the family business."
"How?" I interrupted Ryan's story. I thought he'd be upset with me but he just looked at me with a dead expression."
"How what?"
"How did he know you were his son if your mother was a whore?"
I thought he would get offended by my wording but he just shrugged. Glancing off into space again.
"I looked just like him. I look just like him. My mother was too afraid to leave. My father was a very violent man. He'd come in angry and beat the life out of her. Right in front of me.
When I was five, I tried to stop him. He came in the middle of the night and dragged my mother out of bed. I heard him hitting her and I heard her screaming. So I ran out of the room to help her." His face took on a look of pure horror as he reminisced on the scene.
I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat "And then what?"
"He beat the living shit out of me. I was covered in marks and bruises for months. I couldn't get out of bed for weeks. My mother would bring me food and sing to me. She made me promise to never intervene again.
I promised her I wouldn't. I kept my promise for two years. I'd listen to my father beat my mother. And I'd just lay there in the darkness and cry. My mother would eventually come back to bed. When she did, she wouldn't even be crying. She'd play with my hair and sing to me.
Then one day my father went too far. He beat my mother so badly that she lost complete feeling in he left arm. I had to braid her hair for her each day and help her eat and wash. I was only seven."
"Why didn't she just go to the hospital?" That seemed like the most logical thing to do.
"And say what, Brendon?" He snapped. "My pimp boyfriend is beating the hell out of me and my son? They would have taken me away from her."
"S-Sorry, Ryan."
"My mother still did her best for me. She still made sure I had food. She still fed me and sung me to sleep. And then during one of the beatings, my father told my mother that if she didn't fight back more, he was going to get me.
The next day she packed a bag and we were going to sneak off. But my father came home early. He saw the bag and didn't ask any question. The only thing I remember is the blinding light and ear breaking sound coming from the gun. And then I saw my mother lying there. Covered in blood.
He didn't even move her. She stayed there for hours. He let me hold her and cry for hours. I knew immediately that I was going to get him back. My mother was all I had in life.
So that night, while my father and his whores were alseep in their beds, I took the largest knife from the kitchen. And I walked into his bedroom. I wanted to see him die so I switched on his lamp and I stabbed.
Oh! You should have seen it, Brendon! His eyes shot open. Of course, I was only seven so I didn't have the strength to kill him with one stab. So I stabbed him again. In the neck. In the chest. In the face." He was smiling now. And that smile scared the living shit out of me.
"Okay, Ryan. I get it. What happens next?"
"His whores heard him screaming and they ran to the room. You'd think they'd be grateful. But no! They attacked me. Even with the knife I couldn't win. And then those bitches dragged me down the block and locked me in the closet of some abandoned house." His voice lost all it's previous excitement.
"And then?" I urged him to continue.
He shrugged. "A bunch of teens found me a few days later after they broke into the house for some game."
"Oh my god!" I ran my hands through his hair before pulling him into a tight hug. "You must have been tossed from foster home to foster home after that!"
"Well-"
"Brendon!" We both froze at the sound of Spencer's voice. His frantic knocking followed.
"Why is he here?" Ryan grasped my upper shoulders tightly. Yanking me away from him. "Did you call him?"
"No! No, I swear!"
"Yes you did!" He shook me once. Hard. "Get rid of him."
"Ryan!"
"What?"
"The door isn't locked."
The sound of the door knob turning was the final nail in the coffin. We were fucked.
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Love Don't Die: A Ryden Fanfic
FanfictionDead bodies are piling up and so are Brendon's anxieties. He'd moved to this small boring town with the hopes of a quiet life. But what happens when he meets, Ryan, the man responsible for the kills? Well he falls for him, of course! Can he change R...