It Begins With Us

37.

Ryle:

I hate diary's. I hate them with a burning passion. They're always sitting there, teaasing me, tempting me, and when I give in and take a look. I always instantly regret it. Always.

"Ryle! I'm done." Alba calls out to me from the washroom and I flinch.

'First, calm down.....'

"Down, right." I mutter.

"You can go in now." She says opening the door, her voice echos through the room.

'Second, try your hardest to listen to what others have to say. It could be a complete misunderstanding.......'

"Ryle? What is that?" Now her voice is right behind me, touching me.

"Don't you think you should be telling me that?" I mutter again.

'Third, if you just can't, tell them to leave you alone for a bit.....'

"Is that my..... diary?" She whispers and presses a hand to my shoulder.

'Fourth, if you can't then just leave. Walk out and come back to the situation with a level head....'

"Ryle?" Alba whispers.

Before I could stop myself I grab her hand tightly. She takes in a shocked breath and I stand from my seat.

By the time I turn, I'm gone.

Alba:

The moment he turns I know it's not him anymore. It's the him from the park, the one that bashed a man's head in. The one that bruised me and didn't care for me.

"Ryle, please." I whisper my heart racing, trying to escape.

"What? What do you want from me Alba?" He whispers dangerously pulling me closer.

"No." I whispers as he leans down to level his face with mine.

"No." I say again, trying to keep my voice calm and firm.

"No what? Don't want to kiss me? Why not? Am I not good enough? Is it because I'm not 'Him'?" Ryle asks aggressively pressing his lips to mine.

"No! Ryle wait! Let me-" I'm cut off my the pain of his teeth clashing against my lips, tearing open my skin.

Tears and blood stream down my face and I push against him, my body trying to push him away. I try to plead between our lips but every time he comes back, he comes back harder and harsher then I ever though he could be.

Then his hands leave my shoulders and roam my body, pulling my towel off and I panic and whimper as his fingers dig into my skin. My breathing is so loud and erratic it's only scaring me more. 

I can't take this, I won't take this. I can't let him do this to me. I won't be able to take it if this goes any further and he won't be able to stand it once he realizes.

"Stop!" I scream and bite his lip as hard as I can.

A lot harder than I thought because he freezes and I take the chance to push him off of me. He hits the table and I run back into the washroom as fast as I can, slamming the door shut and locking it. I can feel it vibrate through me when he bodies the door, screaming like a madman. 

I press my back to it, pushing back with all my strength as he slams and slams with all his anger. I cry and gasp trying to catch my breath and get my fear out all at once. Pressing my hands flat against the door I slowly sink to the cold floor.

"Ryle." I cry over and over again, my heart shuddering in my chest like a frightened child.

By the time Ryle has stopped banging on the door, and my heart has stopped smashing into my rib cage, I've lost track of time. My eyes are swollen and my face is itchy. There's dry snot and blood all over my lips and chin. 

I've spent time with my thoughts, considering what has happened. I understand Lily wanting to leave all this, I understand her not being able to deal with it. Her own traumas wouldn't have let her live peacefully. I sigh and lean my head back against the door.

My legs are completely numb, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten a cold sitting there on the floor right by the crack under the door, still comepletely naked. I haven't heard any shuffling from the other side. 

I don't know if he's still on the otherside of the door. I don't think I want him to be.

Gathering up my courage, I unlock the door and I wait for any sounds. None come. So I twist the knob and wait again, nothing. I open the door a crack and peak out carefully, the room is empty. A frightening thought flashes through me.

'He left me.' I throw the door open and step out.

I run over and grab my towel before doing a full 360. That's when I see him, curled up like a toddler in time out. Sleeping in the corner right beside the washroom. I hadn't seen him because that was the blind spot from my slit through the washroom doorway. 

I carefully walk over, and I'm so sure that when he's going to wake up he's going to be my Ryle. The smirking, teasing, grinning, and loving Ryle. So I press my hand to his shoulder and give him a gentle shake.

"Ryle." I whisper his name and it breaks as it reaches his ears.

"Hm.." He hums in his sleep and my heart settles.

"Ryle!" I can't help the hysteria in my voice.

I want him to wake up, I want him to hug me, to hold me and tell me he's sorry, to show me his resolve. Tell me it won't happen again.

"Ryle!" I cry his name over and over again till he's wide awake.

"Wha-?" Is all he could get out before I tackle him, burrowing half naked into him.

I can't stop calling out his name, begging him for comfort, for love. 

For protection, from himself.