TROUBLED (completed) (re-writing)

Chapter Six [Because It Will Destroy Them]

You're afraid to tell people how you feel

because it will destroy them,

so you bury it deep inside yourself

where it destroys you.

-Unknown

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A/N The picture is supposed to be Ryder, I might change it to another pic, what do you guys think?

"My cuts..?" I slowly back away from him, why would he ask that?! Of course I won't let him see my cuts. "No."

His eye's widen as if he didn't mean what he had asked. I can see the regret in his eyes, but that doesn't slow down the beating of my heart.

"I didn't mean to ask that ... I'm sorry." He looks down at me with his light colored eyes and I can feel my heart pick up its already fast pace.

Why do I feel this way when he looks at me? I am able to nod my head, but I feel the need to run away. I hate this feeling, I feel trapped, like my stomach is going to suddenly burst open and a million black butterflies will fly out, no - not butterflies - more like crows, this isn't the pleasant feeling of nervous jitters ... This is the feeling of needing a release and not being able to reach for your blade. I know that I need to get out of here and return to my lonely bedroom, but what do I say? 'Sorry but I need to go home and cut.' no way.

"Do you need me to take you home?" Ryder offers and runs his hand through his hair like he always does.

I wonder, can he read my thoughts..?

"Uh - Yeah - Sure." I stutter like a freak.

I can't help it, how can he possibly know that I need to be alone?

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Alone? No. Yes I'm "home" but so is he ... There is nothing I can do. I was in such a hurry to get through the front door that I completely forgot to be quiet, and he heard me, and now I can't walk away from him.

Of course he is drunk.

I stare at him with my soul less eyes and he stares back with his dilated ones. I already know what's going to happen next, so of course it doesn't surprise me when he throws his half full bottle of vodka at me. I don't move a bone. If it were to hit me, oh well. I don't care anymore.

The bottle shatters on the wall behind me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. He approaches me and grabs my arm, I don't even flinch as my cuts from last night re-open. He pushes me against the alcohol covered wall and punches my stomach. I gasp for breath and keep my eyes tightly closed. He punches my again and I yelp as I hunch over in pain.

"I keep getting phone calls from the school." He pauses as he struggles to get the words out coherently, "That's the only p-place you should be, you are a child."

He than smacks me across the face.

I hear a voice coming from down the hall calling out to him. He stops hitting me and retreats back to his room. I slide down the wall and stare blankly ahead.

I probably deserved to be hit.

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I lookat the large purple and yellow bruise on my abdomen. I can't even bend down without feeling like I'm going to pass out. I actually might just faint, I haven't eaten in over a week. The last meal I had was soggy left overs that were left on the kitchen counter. I haven't had an appetite ever since.