Sequel: My Beautiful Boy ›
Status: Active
Silver Stockings
This isn't life, its death.
The pale boy laid in the tub he had slit his wrists and the water that was clear was now mixed with dark red liquid stained the water like broken heart,"I've lived for only sixteen years...My father hates my guts, and i still have love for a man that helped the one i hated set up the rape. I knew with his voice he was worried for me; cared for me...And even...Loved me....I heard your voice that was like a beautiful melody to my ears, the only thing that got those groans out of my mind...I wish i could tell you how much i love you but i do have a question though if you really cared about me, why....Would you let him hurt me.."The note he wrote before he slit his wrists.
"RICHARD!" His father spoke as he slowly lifted the wet boy from the water, he was crying over Ricky's half dead body,"You are all i have left...Please wake up!"He had already called the police and they sent out a ambulance and they took Ricky to the hospital and kept him alive. After Ricky woke up they told him that he was going to be put in a mental hospital until he's mentally stable, he did not want this he did not want to be in a mental hospital,"No..I'm not going to a fucking nut house...I'm not crazy.."The doctor looked to Ricky and spoke,"Indeed you aren't, but you're mentally unstable which makes it a disability. You need to heal, maybe you'll make some new friends. Your father already agreed and you are going tomorrow, this will just help cure you. And Dr. Parente is going to help you with that."Ricky sighed and soon the day past by.
Oh the horror...
"we're here."His father spoke shoving him from the car,"Bye."He spoke driving off which made Ricky frown as he slowly walked toward hell, clear clean windows with a white boarder and white blinds, the whole building was made out of bricks he hated bricks.. He looked toward the women whom directed him inside the building and showed his around then to his room giving him only a kid marker to write with since he really liked to draw and had a journal as he sighed and frowned walking into the room he sat on the bed hearing the women speak,"At 1:00pm we have art class, and some then you are free to do as you please."She handed him medication and smiled to him warmly,"This will help you cope better, function politely. Take it every day and you may get out in a month."Ricky nodded and took the pill putting it in the marker box and putting it in the drawer in the night stand next to his bed, and sat in his bed pulling his knees to his chest and hugging his knees whilst burying his face in his own arms. He was called out for 1:00pm art class, he sighed and began walking to where they wanted him to go.
"RICHARD!" His father spoke as he slowly lifted the wet boy from the water, he was crying over Ricky's half dead body,"You are all i have left...Please wake up!"He had already called the police and they sent out a ambulance and they took Ricky to the hospital and kept him alive. After Ricky woke up they told him that he was going to be put in a mental hospital until he's mentally stable, he did not want this he did not want to be in a mental hospital,"No..I'm not going to a fucking nut house...I'm not crazy.."The doctor looked to Ricky and spoke,"Indeed you aren't, but you're mentally unstable which makes it a disability. You need to heal, maybe you'll make some new friends. Your father already agreed and you are going tomorrow, this will just help cure you. And Dr. Parente is going to help you with that."Ricky sighed and soon the day past by.
Oh the horror...
"we're here."His father spoke shoving him from the car,"Bye."He spoke driving off which made Ricky frown as he slowly walked toward hell, clear clean windows with a white boarder and white blinds, the whole building was made out of bricks he hated bricks.. He looked toward the women whom directed him inside the building and showed his around then to his room giving him only a kid marker to write with since he really liked to draw and had a journal as he sighed and frowned walking into the room he sat on the bed hearing the women speak,"At 1:00pm we have art class, and some then you are free to do as you please."She handed him medication and smiled to him warmly,"This will help you cope better, function politely. Take it every day and you may get out in a month."Ricky nodded and took the pill putting it in the marker box and putting it in the drawer in the night stand next to his bed, and sat in his bed pulling his knees to his chest and hugging his knees whilst burying his face in his own arms. He was called out for 1:00pm art class, he sighed and began walking to where they wanted him to go.