Beaten

Disappear

"Where have the police come?"

"Well...." Michael took a long pause. "We don't have too many leads yet." More silence. "Don't worry, though! I'm sure something will come up."

Ryan nodded, staring at his feet in silence. He had one day to go, and then he would either have to live on the streets, or go back to Rick. Neither option he particularly preferred. 

Michael noticed his disappointment. "Look, I know this is hard. But if you need any help at all, you can come to me. I will personally try and find a way out for you."

Ryan scoffed. "There is nothing you can do. I have one more day, and then I am fucked."

Michael sighed. "I am sorry, Ryan." He paused for a moment. "Look, why don't you come and stay with me? Until this whole mess is sorted out? You will even have Drake for company, although I know, after what he did....."

Ryan shook his head. "I can't."

"I'm sorry he did it, Ryan. I promise he won't do it again."

Michael knew what Drake had done - the video was first page news, obviously.  "I just....I can't. I am sorry."

"Should I try to sign you up for a foster home?  Maybe an orphanage? Because at the end of this, you wont be able to return back to you parents in any case - I will have to arrest them for child abuse."

"Mom-?"

"I don't know the details, but according to what you saw, she made a deal with Rick, and tried to sell you."

Ryan couldn't help the tears pooling in his eyes. His mom tried to sell him. Michael was right, but the words sounded unreal. Why would she that? Had Rick forced her? She would never do that. 

He would have to leave her. He had never thought about what it would be like to live in an orphanage. Maybe he should take up Michael's offer. He'd rather deal with Drake than with Rick.

"Look, if nothing comes up by tomorrow, I will stay with you for a couple of days, I guess?" 

Michael nodded. "Sure. You are welcome anytime."

Ryan nodded and turned to leave. One more day.

He stepped out on the street, the sun shining straight onto his face. His arm automatically came up to his eyes, shielding them.

Several people were staring at him, pointing fingers. This was all Drake's fault. He hated him. He hated him so fucking much. Drake had put the video on the projector, and somebody had filmed the whole thing and sold it to somebody from the news. Now snapshots from the clip were all over the papers. Everybody knew. This was his worst nightmare. About a hundred newscasters had turned up yesterday at his hotel, clamoring for information. All they cared about the sensationalizing scoop. Rick had texted him threatening messages about a million times - each one describing in graphic detail what he would do the next time he saw Ryan. All Ryan wanted was to disappear.

He hailed a cab and got in.

The hotel was not too far, at least. He could ignore the can driver for five minutes. 

By the time the hotel came into view, Ryan could see a group of ten to fifteen reporters parked on the street, waiting for him. Fuck.

He paid the driver, and jumped out, and sprinted across the road into the hotel. At least the couldn't follow him into his room. 

He was considering approaching them. After today, he would have no place to go. Media support could help keep him safe. 

Sighing, he walked into his room and shut the door behind him. The room was completely trashed. The lights were broken, glass scattered all over the floor. The mattress was ripped to shreds, he could see spots of blood on several pieces. All the drawers were open, and papers scattered all over the floor. His clothes had been thrown out of the closet all around, lying on the desk, the TV and even the floor. The wall over the TV had a message, clearly written in blood.

49, 22 Avenue, 53rd Street. No police.

There was CD pasted on the wall beside it.

In shock, Ryan pulled it down and put it into the DVD player. It was his mom.

She looked....happy. She was on a set somewhere, a set of some beach. Her nails were done, her hair whipping across her face with the wind. "Ryan....you have one more day. Trust me and go to Rick. He can help you. If you want, we can meet again, but only if you go to Rick. Love you, bye!"

Ryan just sat on the bed, staring at his mom's face. How could she? She didn't love him. She hated him enough to be happy while Rick chased him for his life.

Why? He had to know.

Slowly, he stood up. He was going to end this. He was going to find out why she did what she did. He was going to find her and get her back. Even if it killed him.

***

The end is near, guys. Patience. 

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(I post a lot of poetry)