RICKY'S POV
Waking up the next morning was a challenge. Gently, I unwrapped Haley's arms from my chest and slid out of the bed. As quietly as possible, I slid my closet door open to choose my clothes for the day. I picked a dark pair of skinny jeans and Black Craft hoodie.
Haley was asleep so I figured it didn't matter if I changed clothes in my room.
I was wrong. Shuffling came from my bed, followed by a whistle. My face heated up and I quickly slide my hoodie overtop my bear chest. Turning around I saw Haley still under the comforter staring at me with mixed emotions in her eyes. An obvious one jumped out at me: pity.
No, that's not gonna work for me.
"Stop it." I said coldly, locking eyes with her.
"What, checking you out?" She said playfully, winking.
"No, with the pity. I don't need your pity." She looked hurt and I immediately regretted the way I had said that to her. "I'm sorry." She shook her head, sliding out of the bed. I then realized she was only wearing an oversized Slayer t-shirt. Oh my God, she's perfect.
"I should be going." Haley said, avoiding my face. She turned to move out the doorway and I grabbed her arm, trying to stop her from leaving. She winced and wretched her arm from my grip. The pain on her face was obvious, and I realized I had grabbed her fresh cuts.
"Shit, I'm so sorry." I pled as she walked out of the room and slammed my front door shut. Damn it, Ricky you idiot. You need to fix this.
HALEY'S POV
Pity? He thinks I'm pitying him? I relate to him and want to help him, but pity is not what I'd describe that as. I know what it's like when people feel that way, and I'd never do that to him.
I stormed down the stairs to my apartment and swung the door open. Something was off. It smelled like fresh coffee. Walking into the kitchen, I found it barren.
"What the fuck?" I asked myself.
Trying to turn around, I'm stopped when I feel a pair of arms lace around my waist.
"Ricky, I swear to God if that's you, I'll kill you." A deep chuckle came from the person holding my body hostage.
"You been sleeping with the fag? That where you were last night." A growl escaped my lips, I was pissed off.
"Yeah, I have, and he's better than you ever were." I said, taunting Greg. A rumble came from his chest and he spun me around to face him. His rancid breath slapped me in the face. He'd been drinking. Greg roughly grabbed my face and forcefully kissed me. I tried pulling back, but he pulled me closer.
"Fucking let me go, Greg."
"Nah, I thought we'd have a little fun." He said, trying to lift my shirt. He slung me over his shoulder and lugged me into my room. Throwing me on my bed, he pulled off his shirt and threw himself on top of me.
At this point, I had emotionally shut down. I couldn't tell what was happening anymore and was in my own world. Then came the thoughts.
YOU'RE A WHORE.
NOBODY REALLY LOVES YOU.
WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO CUT YOURSELF?
EMO SLUT.
YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST KILLED YOURSELF WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE.
My thoughts were abruptly cut off by a sharp pain shooting up my jaw.
Greg pulled back and smirked, happy with the new addition he had left on my face. Getting up off the bed, he walked out of the room and hopefully my life.
I couldn't move. Besides my face, I wasn't hurt, I just couldn't bring myself to move. Lying in my bed, for what felt like hours, I just stared at the wall.
I heard my door open and prayed Greg hadn't come back. A shadow walked up to my doorway and ran beside me. I heard a voice yelling something, but I was so out of it, nothing was audible.
Maybe if I hold my breath long enough, I just won't wake up. That sounds so appealing.
So that's what I did. I just stopped everything. No movement, no thoughts, no breathing.
The feeling I was currently experiencing was indescribable. Relief mixed with peace, and everything serene seemed to wash over me as I felt myself slip away. Oh, how I hope this is the end.
