Mr. & Mrs. Bad

Chapter 7

I mean, am I sure I want Ryder? Of course I am. Ryder left last night, after accidentally falling asleep with me. Blake left last night, claiming something about he has business to take care. I just told them to drive safely, and Ryder kissed my forehead then left. Blake just smirked, and said he couldn't promise me anything. I didn't care, I just want my sleep.

Today's Sunday. My day of peace. No Wren, no Ryder, no Blake. Just me, myself, and my bed. We have an unbreakable bond. My phone buzzes on the stand next to my bed. I turn my back to it, hoping it'll go away. It buzzes repeatedly. I groan and grab the phone, not bothering to check who it was.

"Hello?" I say rather annoyed. Today's one of those days I just want to sleep. But of course, there's always a specific group of humans that just have to like me. They just have to.

"I need- you know what, you seem kinda annoyed right about now. I'll call you later." Ryder hangs up. I shrug it off, but then he was about to say he needed to talk to me.

I told him I'm here if he needs anything, yet I just brushed him off. He could do something crazy, like cut himself.

I quickly dial his number, and he picks up on the third ring.

"Yes?" He answers a little snappy. Huh. So that's what it's like to have someone just answer the phone snappy at you. Taste of my own medicine, I guess.

"You needed me?" I say, secretly quoting Rihanna's song. The line is silent, and I hear his sharp intake of breath. Please don't tell me he's cutting.

"Stop cutting yourself." I tell him, I still hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Ryder. Address now."

"Okay." His voice sounds strained, and he ends the call. Only dressed in a black shirt with black sweatpants, I slip in my black converse. I check the text and his house is surprisingly around the corner.

Not even caring if my house gets robbed, I run downstairs and out of my house shutting the door. I run at full speed to Ryder's house. I reach his house, average size, a boring white color, two floors. Average.

I twist the knob open, and I step in. My eyes frantically search around the living room, and I hear the sink from a bathroom running upstairs. I take the steps two at a time, and I go down the hall leading to Ryder's room.

I knock on the door. "Ryder?" I call out hesitantly.

"It's open." He yells, his voice weak. I open the door, and I almost cry at the sight. Ryder curled in a ball in a corner of his room, a blade out in front of him. His head is buried into his knees, and the wounds from his wrists are bleeding.

"Where's the first aid kit?" I demand, stepping into his bathroom.

"Let me die." Ryder cries.

"No. Now where the hell is the first aid kit?" I demand again. He points to the cabinet above his mirror. I open it, and grab the first aid kit. I walk over to Ryder, and move the blade behind my back.

"Give me your wrists." I instruct. I take his wrist, and disinfect it. I out neosporin on it, and I wrap gauge around the slits. I take his other wrist, and do the same. Once I'm done, I push everything next to his bed.

I grab his chin, and lift his head up so his eyes can meet mine. Tears were running down his face, his eyes seemed dull. His knees come down, and he sits criss cross. I throw my arms around his neck, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He wraps his arm around my waist, and his head snuggles into my neck.

"I tried. I tried so hard, not to let his words affect me." He whispers, sniffling. I run my hands through his soft hair.

"But every word he said, it was true. They wished I was never born. And it was true." He continues, his tears dripping onto my neck. My heart cried out in pain for him.