The Hearts of Lonely People

The sunlight peaked through the shower curtains like a serial killer in an eighties movie. Oh shit. School. He forced his eyes open as the door ripped open. He felt as if he had been pulled from the jaws of life.

“What the fuck,” His mother yelled.

She was in her work clothes, perfectly perfect in business casual.

“Ah,” Ryan said. He felt places in his body he didn’t know could hurt.

“You fucking animal you puked all over the floor. I have to go to work I don’t have time for this. You are such a fucking embarrassment,” She started on her rant as he left the room.

“Sorry mom,” He mumbled as he left the room.

He pulled on a hoodie and new jeans. He still smelled like yesterday. Sex, blood and vomit lingered on everything. He wanted a shower and more alcohol.

His mother rushed out of the house, he followed but went the opposite way. He didn’t have time for school. He waited until everyone in his house had gone to work and headed back. He needed a mental health day.

He poured himself cereal and curled up with the television. He had already taken an hour long shower that killed his schedule. He just wanted to feel clean again. He still didn’t.

He wrote in his notebook in his backyard, until the land mowers of suburban America took over the scenery. After he paced around his rooms, smoking cigarettes until his mouth tasted like fire. It wasn’t enough, he needed more.

He made his way to the dining room, where his father’s half empty liquor cabinet shined in all its Middle American glory.

“Pick your poison,” Ryan said to himself as he pulled out the vodka. It looked the friendliest, with its cheap label and clear color. His father drank whiskey, his mother a wine fanatic.

It stung his throat but made his heart burn. He was in love.

He heard the car outside as he poured it into the water bottle. He sank into the couch and closed his eyes.

“Ryan, what the hell are you doing,” Victoria sang as she threw off her shoes.

“I didn’t feel good,” Ryan lied. It’s not like she really cared to know the truth.

“Bull shit, you smell like liquor,” She said with a smile, jumping next to him on the couch.

He could kill her if he really felt anyway about her. He knew things she didn’t know and he couldn’t help but feel bad for her.

“We’re going out to dinner tonight,” She said.

Ryan almost choked.

~~~
He wasn’t a bad son, but he needed to drink. The water bottle stayed in his jacket pocket.

His family was all smiles and laughs. It made him want to gag, the fact that they were all fake and happy. Ryan felt like body snatchers stole his family, and it wasn’t that upsetting.

“So, I have an announcement,” Victoria said, hitting her butter knife against her glass like they were at The Cheesecake Factory or something. Ryan’s family could barely fit in with the town diner.

She grabbed Gabe's hand as she smiled like she was on some crazy type of drug. He felt the bile ran up his throat. He knew what was going to happen.

“We’ve been thinking for so long, and decided to get married,” She squeaked as she announced her wedding day.

Ryan didn’t even excuse himself; he kicked the chair back and stormed out. His parents looked embarrassed as he slammed the door closed.

The alcohol poured into his mouth like heavenly juices.

Fuck he needed a life.

Chapter 5

He grabbed new clothes before he left the house. He couldn’t stand staying in the same house as any of those people.

Where the fuck did he have to go to get a place to sleep for the night? He gulped at the thought of Pete. He downright refused until Pete found him first.

“Hey,” Pete said, arching his eye brows seductively.

“I have to-well leave,” Ryan said.

“I’m hungry,” Pete said, and Ryan followed without a sound.

Ryan picked at his sweater. He kept thinking of the van even if he didn’t want to. He wanted to run he wanted to leave.

“I’ll order for you,” Pete said, sliding into the booth.

Ryan hasn’t ran since sixth grade, and he wasn’t ever fast. He took a deep breath looked at Pete and then the door, he didn’t know what would happen. He sprinted with all his strength, every muscle was at high capacity. He shouldn’t have smoked he can’t breathe; he can’t even see clearly he drank too much.

Pete doesn’t go after him he just stays in the diner. Ryan doesn’t know where to go, his parents must still be at the restaurant he can sneak in and lay in his bed.

He doesn’t want to go home, not ever again. He wanders around for a bit, but he feels like he’s going to vomit. He goes into some fast food place and runs right to the bathroom. He’s relieved when it’s just a single and not stalls. He doesn’t want people to look at him right now.

He forces his fingers down his throat and he tries to vomit. He doesn’t feel nauseous or sick, he just doesn’t want to feel full. The burn in his throat makes him feels alive but it doesn’t last.

He cried next to the toilet wishing that something can make him feel less like dying.

“You’re fat and you’re ugly. Why don’t you just die,” Ryan whispered to himself. He didn’t have a friend to call or someone to tell him everything was alright. He was absolutely alone in every sense of the word. He could leave right now and no one would know.

He needed to leave this bathroom, or he’d never go anywhere again. He needed to see someone that he actually cared about, even if they didn’t care about him.

Spencer Smith.