Why do you pick fights with other boys? It's the question Ryan has been running from all his life. The answer will shock you.
For as long as Ryan can remember, he's always wanted to be someone special. Now, a promising high school wrestler and a po...
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Ryan sat on the park bench next to the skate park as he inhaled a drag off his American Spirit. He tried quitting cigarettes several times in the last three months, but found himself falling back into the habit after not smoking for a couple days. Sometimes the feeling of smoke making its way down his throat and deep into his lungs made him forget why he ever wanted to quit them.
Sometimes...
His hair had grown since his accident. Bangs down to his chin were swept to the left side of his head. The sides were still short, but the conservative nature of his undercut was replaced by more of a punk-ish look. The hair looked like a personal statement, albeit an unintentional one. Ryan honestly did not think about his hair, but some believed it was a reflection of the changes happening to him. When the bangs fell under one of his eyes, he looked broody and angelic; a bad boy with a heart.
Part of the reason cigarettes felt so damn good were because of the pills: 2.5/325mg Percocet. He was taking at least one a day since the accident. Luckily, his cast had come off, but going back to his athletic activities was painful. The high from the Percocet gave him a level of calmness that was missing the first couple of months after Cindy's assault. Much of the anger, anxiety, and guilt he carried with him would disappear. There was nearly a sensation of clear headedness after tossing back one of the pills; as if a glossy glaze masked over the fuckedupness of life.
What he did to Frank was still haunting him, in one way or another. Most days, he tried not to think about it. Somewhere, buried deep in his subconscious, wasn't letting it go though. Surreal, recurring dreams about the Monstrous face he saw and insidious places gave him irregular sleeping habits. On those nights, he took two to three pills.
Frank's murder was written off as an accidental death, most likely drug related. A part of Ryan, suspected - Knew - his father played a role in covering up the murder. Whether his father knew it was a murder or not was up for question. The way his father described it didn't make him feel any better.
"Since I've been a recruit I've seen some things," Ryan remembered his father telling him. "If the worst thing that happened in this county in the last six months was a guy who attempted to rape a girl burned up in a meth fire, that doesn't seem bad. It feels like justice."
The overall consensus of the town felt the same. Knowing what Ryan knew gave him goosebumps.
Thank god for the pills.
Taking another one, the world continued feeling less stressful.
Dalton's car came down the street, driving into the parking lot across the skate park. Ryan got up from the park bench and went over to Dalton, whose car parked right next to his 2008 Subaru Outback. Kids at school didn't like it as much as his Sonata. Though it handled better in the rain and snow, the uniqueness of the car was not the same. There were at least three other kids at school who had the exact same car. The Subaru also lacked as nice of a sound system the Sonata had. Truthfully, Ryan didn't give a shit. He was fine with still being able to drive. The way things played out over the last couple months were anything, but predictable.
