Hallucinogens (Ryden)

I

Ryan jolted awake. He was trembling and a thick layer of sweat coated his body. He quickly sat up and grabbed at his chest trying to calm himself down. Tears sprung from his eyes and he cursed himself for even going to sleep. 
This had been a regular occurrence since the.. attack, of sorts. Every night he would relive his torture and he hated it. He felt disgusting.

He quickly got off his mattress that was situated in the corner of his small room. It was still dark. It could only have been an hour or two since he had fallen asleep. He stumbled and walked over to a small, cluttered table.

He opted for the pre rolled joint instead of going for any heavier drug. It was too early, or late, for anything but weed.

He walked to the window that overlooked the ugly town. He opened it and sat himself on the window shelf, his legs dangling over the edge.

He looked at the vast array of lights and buildings splayed out before him as he lit up the joint and put it between his lips.

Life wasn't supposed to turn out this way for him. He was supposed to finish off college and become an architect, its what he had always envisioned for his life. But now everything was fucked. He had dropped out of college and resorted to escaping reality on a regular basis.

His life had turned to absolute shit. A couple years ago everything had been going so well. He chuckled at the thought. It was funny really, how quickly your life could do a complete 180.

At this point the only reason he wasn't living on the streets was because one of his friends that he had met through drugs let him stay at his place. He had a spare room and only demanded a small amount of rent.

Ryan lived what others might not even call a real life, and he wouldn't be one to disagree. Being a college drop out who did drugs everyday and didn't have a real job wasn't exactly the best. But maybe Ryan didn't know how to live differently anymore. After what happened to him he couldn't imagine reverting back to a 'normal' and stable lifestyle.

Maybe he could lie to himself and say that he was content with this lifestyle but that would be a lie.

He was unhappy. And he cursed himself for becoming this fucked up failure. His life would amount to nothing. If he was lucky he'd die at a young age.

Truth is, if he had the guts he would end his life. But he was too afraid. He had no idea of what the after life would hold or if it even existed. So why chance it?

Maybe living in this state of perpetual confusion and blur wasn't as bad as it sounded to those who didn't experience it. After all you don't remember much of it. It's quite hard to hate something you don't even remember. I suppose you could hate the fact that you didn't remember, but why would you lead this lifestyle if you weren't trying to forget something?

Over the past year Ryan had lost all contact with his family. Actually, he had gotten up and left them without a word. They tried to contact him. They still do. Just not as frequently anymore. No one knew what happened to him. He was too afraid to voice his torturous reality. He still was. For him it was easier to pretend it never happened and to forget it in a haze of drugs instead of trying to 'get over' it.

Therapy wouldn't be able to change the past. So what was the point?

What she had done to him was even hard for him to think about. But he couldn't help the vivid nightmares that made him remember every aspect of it. The smell of her cheap perfume, her fingernails digging into his wrists- He didn't want to think about this. He didn't want any of this to happen in the first place. He knew it was wrong but he felt guilty. It was his fault. It was all his fault. If he would have just resisted more or fought back harder.

He quickly got up from the window and walked back over to the table before the memories came back at full blast. Weed wasn't enough. He needed something else. He absentmindedly scratched his wrists as he couldn't find what he was looking for. He walked over to the small dresser next to his door and dug around in the drawers until he found what he needed.

He quickly found what he craved so badly. He just needed the escape. And today ketamine just happened to be the escape he needed.

And as he descended into a serene drug induced state all thoughts about his past and current situation were quickly forgotten.

Kind of pathetic really, hardly gone 2am and Ryan Ross was already sitting on his bed, completely out of it.

It was sick really, using all, and any drugs to escape. Ryan didn't know how else to cope though. He knew he should have moved on with his life but he just couldn't. He was mentally incapable of letting go. After all it wasn't like he hadn't tried, he had tried immensely hard to overcome the events.

But it was futile.

None of that mattered anymore though. Everything's royally fucked and Ryan couldn't give less of a shit right now.

A/N: I need to stop making sad characters with sad stories and sadsadsadsadd stuff

Like& comment if you enjoyed the start to this mess.