I've been taken

We only live once..

I Stare at wall across from me, Wondering. Ryan got in the shower not too long ago. I can still here the shower. I close my eyes and Think. Think. Think. I wrap my hands around myself and bite my lip. I'm curious and confused and wondering why. I sit up on the bed and rub my wrist staring off into space. I've been here for three months, maybe less, maybe more. I thump my foot against the bedside and Scratch at my wrist.

The water cuts off. I close my eyes. I hear the door, I scratch at my wrist again.

Steam wraps around my ankle that is hanging off he bed. I open my eyes and see Ryan in his jeans and t-shirt, already dressed and his hair a wet mess, Pieces of it falling in his eyes. I hold my breathe and Let my lungs burn. My thoughts scatter as I sit up and walk past him into the bathroom. I turn on the faucet and dunk my head into the warm water, cleaning my face free of the stress, Or at least that's what I want to believe. I gasp and lift my head out of the water when I hear a knock. I look over to see Ryan standing there. "If you want a shower the towels are in there."

I nod and look down at the cabinet. "Yeah.. Yeah I know." I say.

He arches his eyebrow, "Okay." His eyes travel down to my foot and I stare down at the wrap around my foot.

"Your going to want to take that off and wash your gash, at least."

I nod, preparing myself to do it when I get in the shower but he comes over and Pushes me down So I'm sitting on the toilet. He crouches down and Undoes the wrap, tossing it in the bin. His thumb grazes the dry blood and I look away. Why is he like that... Why does he have to be so damn perfect one moment and then so damn Harsh the other..

I want him to be like himself. Like this? Not necessarily.. This isn't who he is, I Want him to be playful, teasing, nice.. silly. Not... Not THIS Perfect, and not THAT harsh, I want him to be Ryan. Do I even want to know what happened to the real Ryan? To my Ryan.. I do sometimes. But other times I don't want to know what happened to that boy. That boy that I kissed years ago when I had to leave.. That boy that gave me piggy back rides when we'd go to our favorite park. That boy that would share his ice-cream with me when I'd beg. I feel my face get hot and only then notice I'm crying when I feel thumbs smear them away.

"Stop thinking. " he says.

"I'm not thinking." I whisper. He raises his eyebrow. I sigh and look down, noticing his hands are still on my cheeks.

"It's hard. Believing." I say. What am I talking about?

He stares at me, then sweeps a piece of my hair from my face. "You've got to trust me. I know I haven't been the Ryan you knew lately, but. I don't know. I'm confused too. I'm fucking up. I'm fucking up bad. Everywhere. I fucked up." He looks past my face and I grab his face, his stubble tickling my palms. I bring his face close to mine and breathe, "I'm sorry."

And then that's it. I smash my lips with his, and I can tell he's confused at first. He doesn't respond and I feel like I'm doing the wrong thing, at the wrong time at the wrong place. But then He slides his hands down to my waist and he rests them there and I know that Everything's okay. I grab at my shirt and He holds me back. "What are you doing" he breathes. I look him in the eye and Then he understands.

"No- No, Emma, We can't. I already hurt you. Stop- " He pushes me away, and I suddenly feel like I'm trash. Like I'm not good enough for him.

Hurt boils up my throat and I let a sob out. I wipe away stray tears and glare at him. "Am I not good enough for you !? Is that it ? Am I not as good as all those other skanks you've had! I'm sorry if I'm not. Sorry to disappoint you!"

He grabs my wrist "Em-"

I push him away "You know what, Fuck you !"

I slam my hands against his chest making him stumble back a step long enough for me to run out of the bathroom and out of the room. I stumble down the stairs and Turn on my heel running for that same backdoor. I pull at the knob and it opens, I push the screen door open and step one foot out before A hand grabs a chunk of my shirt and I'm tugged back into a solid chest. He uses his foot to close the screen door and the wooden door and then he locks it and he holds me, "Stop it em, Stop." he whispers as I cry.