3 | in which he thinks before he leaps

I write because I hurt,

I write because I'd rather not bleed.

.\.|./.

Ryan Falls

|in which he thinks before he leaps|

"You know you don't have to work at that stupid place, Ry. I've said it a dozen times but you never listen. Ted can get you a much better job. Hell, you don't even need a job. Go back to college and finish your degree first. You're smart. It's not fair that you have to be called a drop-out just because you moved here."

Olivia is rambling again, not looking up at me as she dumps a large spoonful of lasagna into my plate no matter how many times I tell her I'm full. I'm not full, as she states, but I don't want to tell her the truth about her disgusting cooking which is worse than starvation. I love her, yes, but she's a terrible cook.

"She's got a point, Ryan," Ted adds, his thick voice soft when he attempts to side with Olivia to calm her down. He knows how hard it is to get her to let go of things once she's riled up, and he's a good man for trying to avoid her anger like that. What I don't like is the two of them turning against me just to keep each other happy.

"I'm not saying I won't go back to college," I tell them, poking a fork at the muddy blob on my plate. "I'm just saying not yet."

"And why not?" Olivia rounds on me, her red hair crackling with electricity.

I roll my eyes and give her an exasperated look. "You know why," I remind her.

"Yeah, I do. Because you're stupid," she snaps, slumping into the chair next to Ted's.

With our current seating arrangement, I'm facing Ted and Olivia as they sit side by side and nod at everything the other says. It's almost like I'm a rebellious teenager and my frustrated parents just don't know what to do with me, so they're sitting and trying to talk sense into me.

If only my own parents had ever done that.

"Look, I'm not going to let you guys pay my tuition," I state firmly. "I'll go back to college once I have enough saved up to –"

"Ryan, we're family," Ted says before Olivia can open her mouth to remind me of the same thing. She shoots him an affectionate look, her green eyes growing softer instantly.

"I know –"

"Really? You don't act like it." This time it's Olivia who speaks and I shoot her the most venomous glare I can muster.

I huff, slumping my shoulders. "You know, this is why I don't like coming over for lunch," I tell the two of them, not really telling the truth. "You start acting like my guidance counselors and tell me you know better than I do about my own life."

"No, the reason you don't like coming for lunch is that you don't want to be a burden on us," Olivia reminds me.

Knowing how right she is but refusing to admit it, I lean back in my chair and drop my fork, folding my arms across my chest.

"What do you guys want?" I demand.

"Ryan –"

"We just want what's best for you," Ted interrupts before Olivia can go into a long and pointless debate about how I'm the dumbest person alive to be giving up on a bright future merely because I'm too stubborn to accept help.

I sigh, lowering my gaze and thinking over my words carefully before I say them. "I know you do," is all I say, rising slowly to my feet.

"Ryan, at least finish –" Olivia begins, her eyes widening.

"I have to get to work."

"It's Saturday," Ted points out.

"I asked for overtime." Shrugging comfortably when I lie, I turn away from the only family I have.

"Ryan –"

Olivia comes chasing after me just as I reach the door. Her eyes are sad, her freckled face twisted with concern. I hate that I'm the reason she worries. I hate that she has to worry at all.

"You know I don't mean to pressure you or anything –"

I grab her in a hug, closing my eyes as I wait for the stiffness in her shoulders to melt away. She's rigid, too conscious about making me angry, and slightly annoyed with me, but when I hold her to me, she begins to relax.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ry," Olivia mumbles against my shoulder, sighing softly before she pulls back to look up at my face.

Smiling and nodding, I place my hands on Olivia's shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze.

"You need to relax," I say to her. "Take a deep breath. Get a massage. Maybe try yoga."

She swats my hand away, rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless.

"You're hopeless."

I smile back before pulling open the door and bracing myself for the extreme cold I am not used to yet.

"I'm handsome too, it's a curse." Winking at Olivia, before turning around and walking out of her door. She stands on the threshold, waving at me with an expression of worry on her face. I don't want her to worry about me.

I don't need her to worry about me.

In all honesty, I'm not used to it. I'm not used to people worrying about me. Mom never worried about me. Dad never worried about me. Even I didn't worry about me. So, as expected, it didn't really hurt to leave them behind. It was too hard staying there, took too much mental effort that I have used up for way too long. Enough was enough.

I begin to walk, pulling up the collar of my coat to partially cover my exposed ears. My nose turns red from the icy wind, and even though it's still midday, the sun has already hidden behind the curtain of gray clouds. It's going to snow again, I can just tell.

Alaska is so different from LA. It's everything LA wasn't, but that's exactly why I chose it. I wanted different. I wanted change. So even if I'm not happy with the choice I've made, I'm satisfied.

Here, at least, I'm not a problem.

I was a problem to mom.

I was a problem to myself.

I was just one of those problems you can't fix because the damage is too far done. I knew the damage was done when I was haunted day and night by the flashes of what had happened. And what continued to happen. I had no way out. The nightmare continued day after day, and I watched the demise of my own childhood, night after night, waking up biting the pillows to stifle the anguished screams, only to get out of bed each morning and act like nothing mattered.

I sigh, closing my eyes briefly as I turn a corner and fall in track behind a young woman holding the hand of her angry toddler. She's saying something to him in her Alaskan accent, which to me sounds more closer to Tennessee style. I can't be sure, though, catching only snatches of the woman's monologue towards her child. The disconnected speech makes no sense to me and my mind drifts back to Olivia and Ted.

They want the best for me, I know, but they don't know what it's like to be me. They don't know what it's like staring your murderer in the eye every day, every morning when he'd smile at you and wave, his lips sealed to indicate that you keep yours sealed. Imagine your mother forcing you to go with him and 'play'. Imagine him playing with you. Playing you like a toy.

I had to run away from the LA air, and the LA soil, the LA life. I want to avoid it, and never see it again, not at least for another three centuries. Not until I forget what happened all those years ago when darkness enveloped the seven-year-old who had died inside.

That darkness became a part of me. It became me.

"You will join the boy scouts and that's that," the mother in front of me snaps at last, catching my full attention.

"But I don't want to," the child whines, and though I can't see his face, I can tell he's crying.

It's not my concern, and yet my heart beats faster. I want to grab the woman and tell her to listen to her child instead of scoffing and turning up her nose like she knows better. She doesn't know better in this case. Only I do.

I don't say a word, though, for I am in no place to tell her how she should treat her son. I can't help it, though. I can't help but want to help. I can't help but want to save someone from what I couldn't save myself from. I was a child, so similar to the one walking ahead of me with his hand clasped in her mother's grip. I was a child who was forced to grow up too fast.

Unable to get rid of my thoughts, I come to a halt. I need to breathe. That's what my therapist said. Deep breathes, in and out. Go to my happy place. Yes, I need to find peace within myself and chase away the demons that have awakened in my mind. I need to fight them, because they're with me for good. They're mine to handle and mine to conquer.

My eyes open, though, my brain refusing to side with me today. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting and tired of trying. I thought I could escape. That's why I moved here from LA. I thought I could leave it all behind.

But I was wrong.

I couldn't leave behind my memories. I couldn't leave behind the pain and the darkness and all the agony of all those years.

Exhaling a breath, I turn to look at the cars passing by on the busy road. I see vehicles of all shapes and sizes, zooming past at the speed of light. I see the shops on the other side and listen to the sound of life going about as usual. I watch the world whiz past and time tick by. I watch for so long before I finally decide to move.

They say, always think before you leap.

So I think ...

And I leap ...

Right onto the freeway.

.\.|./.

A/N: So, what are your theories about Ryan so far? The rereaders probably know but how about the rest? Also, how are you liking the rewrite? I've balanced it out a bit, Ryan's inner world and the outer world.. Hope you see a harmony that isn't too hard to make sense of. Thank you for reading <3