For as long as Ricky can remember, there has been a monster living in his closet. Chris, this monster, had been assigned to kill Ricky at the age of five, but just can't seem to bring himself to kill a boy who brings him cookies every night before b...
As the years went by, Ricky's room grew darker and darker, so did his outfits. He still has yet to utter a word to me, only spare me a few glances through the slots in the closet door and maybe, if i was lucky, shove a half eaten cookie under the wood frame if he wasn't hungry enough to finish it. What have i done to him?
Three years really felt like an eternity when youre stuck in a closet with a cat, named Dexter, staring at you.Once upon a time, he wouldn't have needed that cat because he had me to talk to, but now he spends many of his nights playing video games with the cat purring on his stomach. I debated leaving him so many times that it felt like a nagging voice in the back of my skull. Leave him. He doesn't need you to protect him anymore. But he did, didn't he?
Now that he's nearly seventeen he thinks he rules the world, getting the bullying to stop by hanging out with people he shouldn't be; People who wasted no time snorting and injecting drugs like there was no tomorrow, but stayed by his side like flies to food. I wish he confided in me like he did with them, now im just his skeleton in the closet.
I never understood what he was taunted about, i only caught bits and pieces of the snide jeers in between punches and knees to his gut before he crumpled to the ground and his new friends came to the rescue. Something about being "Bisexual" and a "faggot", but i didn't know those mortal words, they made no sense to me.
It was nearly midnight and Ricky has yet to come back to his room. Something has to be wrong, he always usually returns by ten at the latest.
The door swung open and bounced off the wall behind it, Ricky stumbling in after it , scratching at the inside of his elbow and grinning like a mad man. "Chrissssss." He held the "s" for a little to long, plopping on his bed, still rubbing and fidgetting with the inside of his elbow, jabbing at a particular spot then wincing.
"What are you doing to yourself?" I didn't want to talk to him, i wanted to hold grudges like the monster i was, but i yearned to hear his voice again.
"What are youuu doing? Hiding in that closet like a scardy cat." He snorted. "Why don't you come out and show yourself and fix this while you're at it." He extended his arm to face me so i can see the bruises and blotching inside his arm. My muscles tensed up. I could smell the drugs stinging through his veins and distorting his mind.
"You'll be scared." I bit the inside of my lips until my fangs drew blood.
"I'm not scared of nothing." He pet his cat kind of roughly until it meowed and hopped off of his bed with a hiss.
"Yes you will."
"Try me" He dared, eyes drooping and red. "scared of nothing." He repeated, kind of in a daze.
I shifted in my space before sighing and giving in. He probably wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, or at least that's what id like to think. The closet door let out a creak and a moan as i pushed it on it's hinges. I winced at the light in my eyes, so different from the total darkness that i'm used to. He was giggling to himself and mumbling things under his breath before his eyes met mine and they went as wide as the moon. I already could smell the terror in his blood as he scuttled away from me. "Told you." I sank back into the shadows.
He sucked in a breath and became tense before murmuring, "Not scared." My eyes flickered as i stepped back out into the light.
"Show me your arm." I ordered. He did as he was told and gave me his arm, which i took in my clawed palm. A little blush tinted his cheeks and i had to focus my eyes on the bruised. "What did you take?"
"Uhh... heroine... i think... i don't know." His voice was low and looping. I shook my head and pressed my palm to the inside of his elbow, earning a whimper from him. To heal is to take away the pain, but then must always feel that pain. He bit his lip and leaned towards me before the pain ebbed away.
*Ricky's POV* (please excuse my limited drug knowledge) I knew i was stupid for letting them shoved those needles in my arms, telling me that i'll feel so good afterwards, but how could i refuse? They were the only people accepting of who I was and even thought I was cool when I told them about chris in my closet. My arm felt numb and tingling only stinging slightly but that was pushed away by the high. I couldn't stop staring at the way Chris's hair gleamed in the light or how his eyes never faltered when concentrating on healing me. Maybe it was the high but I could have sworn I felt his pulse and it was thumping like a jack rabbit.
"Chris, I want you." The words just flowed out of my tingling mouth without thinking. I dont know what I want. I could barely think cohesively as I pulled on his shirt, sewn together with a weird scratchy material.
"What are you doing?" He haulted, moving back slightly and watching me.
"Please." I begged, the drugs dictating my words. I ushered him closer, my palm against his abnormally warm chest , my face inches from his. He shivered
"You don't want this." He was always the voice of reason wasn't he?
"Yes I do." Then his lips were on mine like chocolate in a strawberry and I loved it.
"No." He groaned and pulled away, eyes red and feral. "I'm not supposed to want you, I was supposed to kill you!" He burst and I could barely put his words together.
"What?"
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