I Can't Take It Anymore

Stop

I ran inside my house and slammed the door.

"Ryan Matthews, what have I told you about slamming doors?" My moms voice rang through my house from the kitchen.

What?

Why was she here?

I don't care, all I know is she ruined my plans.

"Sorry!" I shouted back, kicking of my white converse and throwing my backpack on the floor.

I walkd to the kitchen. "Are you hungry, Ryan?" My mom asked me.

I shook my head and took a seat, pulling out my phone.

Huh, I actually had a text and a missed call.

"I'm sorry."

It was an unknown, but slightly familiar, number.

But I didn't really care. I just kept wondering the same things. Who is it, why are they apologizing, what are they apologizing for, and how did they get my number?

"Everything alright, Ry Ry?" My mom asked using the dreaded nickname she had given me when I was six.

"Fine," I mumbled. I got up from my seat. "I'm gonna go... do homework," I lied. I was stuck in the office all day, I had no homework.

My mom looked confused for a second before she waved me off.

I wonder why she didn't ask why I was home so early.

I ran up the stairs, straight to my bathroom, which was connected to my bedroom.

I opened up the meddicine cabinet, and pulled out a bottle. I took out one pill for every cut on my wrist. There was a total of twelve. Twelve cuts, twelve pills.

I threw my head back, and brought my fist full of pills just above my mouth.

I put a pill in my mouth, a hundred questions running through my head, and immediately spit it out.

My mom knocked on the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DUN DUN DUN.

Please comment if you read this!!