Lost in You

~Six~

***************Authors Note: Hey guys! I decided to start doing chapters from Ryan's point of veiw. This chapter will reveal some of his secrets to the readers, but Summer will not find out until later. SO, if you want the story to have more suspense and you want to find out his secrets as Summer does, then you can skip this chapter. Skipping this chapter will not have any loss of the story, I simply wrote it in case some people aren't catching on to whats happening to Ryan.

Things in italics are flashbacks

^^^^^^^^^^^^^PLEASE READ ABOVE********* IMPORTANT NOTICE^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

RYAN'S POV

I thanked Summer for this afternoon and drove quickly down the road. I had to get home. Fast. My dad was already going to be pissed.

On the way home I thought about this afternoon. I can't believe I actually told Summer about my mom. That was a big step for me. I don't know why, but I just feel like I can trust Summer. I've never met a girl like her before. She's different from all the girls I have dated in the past.

There was one moment, when we were laying out in the field, that I couldn't get out of my head.

I could feel her eyes watching me. It was quite satisfying, but she probably just wanted me for my looks. Like every other girl in the past. They would date me for a while, get some affection and attention, then make up some story about "it's not you, it's me," and break up. What made Summer any different? But in the back of my head I knew she was different.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. God she was gorgeous. Her brown hair with blonde highlights blew slightly in the wind. Her eyes traveled over my body until they reached my eyes, and they stayed there. I looked at her beautiful smile, her perfect pink lips, and her cute little nose. I got lost in her bright green eyes. I wouldn't mind staying lost forever, as long as I was lost in those eyes.

I was snapped back to the present as I sped down the short dirt road that led to my house. When I pulled in the driveway I saw my dad's Chevy already siting there.

"Dammit!' I cursed to myself. He was probably just sitting, waiting, for me to get home. I pulled my car up and cut the engine. I ran up the damaged, uneven stairs to the back door.

I crept in quietly through the kitchen, maybe he was knocked out from all the booze. I looked around every corner. It was sad that I had to hide in my own house. Pathetic.

I was scurrying up the stairs so quickly, that I forgot about the one that creaked. VERY loudly. I stepped on it and sure enough, it sounded all through the tiny house.

"RHHYYY-ENNN!!!!!!" my dad screamed. I heard his heavy foot steps, shaking the whole house. I ran as quickly as I could up the steps littered with wrapper, trash, and empty beer bottles. I tripped on the last step and landed face first onto the dirty carpet. I barely had time to get to my feet before my father stood in front of me, a good four inches taller, holding a half drunken bottle of soda, but I could tell by the strong smell that it was diluted with alcohol.

"DON'T RUN AWAY WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!" he screamed. He slapped me right across the face, hard. It hurt like hell, but I clenched my teeth and forced myself not to scream.

"Where were you?!" he continued to yell. I didn't answer and he kicked my knee, forcing me to fall on the ground.

"I SAID, where were you!!" All I could think about was the burning sensation on my cheek, but I had to answer if I wanted it to stop.

"I was out." I spoke as sternly as I could. I would not give him the pleasure of seeing weakness in me.

"You were supposed to be home making my dinner!!" He kicked me again in my side. I heard the crack of a rib, and this time I yelped in pain.

"Don't scream you little rat!! YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE!" He kicked me again before pulling me up by my shirt with one hand. With the other hand, he punch me right in the eye.

I couldn't take this! I lifted my leg and gave him a strong kick in the crotch. He dropped me because of the impact of the kick.

"YOU BITCH!" he screamed, them he lowered himself to my level from the floor. He beat me more than he ever has. I was too weak to fight any longer, so I just sat there and winced each time his fist connected with my body.

When he was finally done, he stood up and laughed. "Now take your ass up to your room and stay there!" He walked back downstairs, his drink all over the ground where I was sitting, he had dropped it sometime in the process of "punishing" me.

I stood up and stayed against the wall as I limped to my room. Luckily it wasn't far. As soon as I got there I closed my door and locked it. Falling across my bed I breathed heavily, trying to slow my heartbeat. Unfortunately, suddenly I had a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I got up and ran into the bathroom that connected to my room. I sat on the floor and vomited into the toilet for what felt like hours.

After there was nothing left in my stomach, I slowly and carefully took off my clothes to take a shower. When I took my shirt off, I looked in the mirror and my heart sank at what I saw. I had more bruises on my body than ever, my lip was busted and bleeding, and on top of it all, I had a black eye.

Who was going to want to date somebody with ugly purple bruises all over their body? No one. And definitely not Summer. I always had to hide my bruises and being summer time, it was hard. I could wear a sweatshirt and jeans all the time, but it was only a matter of time before somebody noticed in the ninety degree weather.

I took a shower, rinsing off the stench of alcohol and trying to wash the bruises off my body, trying to just make them disappear, but I knew that was impossible. After I pulled on some gym shorts, I laid on my bed exhausted and hurting. I couldn't go to school Monday looking like this, so I just rested my head and tried not to think about it. I glanced over to check the time on my clock that sat on the side table, but something else caught my eye instead. It was a picture of my mother and I.

I wished so much she could be here with me.

Maybe it would be easier for me to go to her.

It was so simple, taking my own life.

I didn't have to do much.

Just a flick of a knife.

It would end all the pain.

Then I could be with my mother.

No. That is the easy way out. I am strong.

I remembered a saying that my mother read out loud in a book once.

"Ending your life is a permanent solution to an often temporary problem."

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