Disclaimer: If I owned The O.C., you'd be reading this story in a bookstore instead of a free site on the internet. So... yeah, they're not mine.
Author's Note: This story jumps all over the place and I apologize. I'm really into writing angsty stuff lately, so this story is sort of sad. Rated only for langauge.
The first time I met Ryan Atwood, I didn't think much of him. I could tell right away that he was a bad boy; not a wannabe, but a real bad boy. A guy that knew what made parents think he was good and what made the girls see that he was bad. Marissa liked him, which was visible. You could tell from the look in her eye. I disregarded him and her feelings for the boy, hoping things would go away. Of course, they never did.
He went away once after impregnating an ex girlfriend of his. Naturally, I was glad he was gone. Marissa, however, was devastated and stopped speaking to me. I have to ask here; why me? I didn't force him to fuck his ex, now did I? I had nothing to do with that. But she remained pissed at me and I gave up on trying. I figured she'd be the angst-filled teen, I'd be the horrible mother and Ryan would've been the ex boyfriend.
Why didn't things ever work out how I intended? Ryan returned a few months later after the pregnant girl supposedly lost the baby. He and Marissa worked things out and became the happy couple once again. It made me sick to see my seventeen year old daughter having a more successful relationship than I ever could have. How is it that I'm the one who screwed up? I'm not the one who overdosed on sleeping pills in Tijuana. I'm not the one who's ex boyfriend impregnated another girl while we were still dating.
Things slowly got worse and worse. Ryan's brother showed up, fresh out of jail, and made things hell for everyone. It was mostly minor things that really only affected the Cohens'. But in one night, it all changed.
Marissa had been hanging out with Trey, Ryan's sibling while Ryan was away. They had been watching a movie and getting drunk. After a few too many margaritas, they went for a walk on the beach in an attempt to sober up. Trey had evidentially snorted something before they left and he tried to rape Marissa, my daughter, on the beach that night. She fought him off, but she still had the emotional and physical scars. Both she kept very well hidden. A few nights later, Ryan and Trey got into a fight. From what my daughter told me, Trey was moments away from killing Ryan and of course, she had stop it. She wasn't entirely sure how it had gotten there, but she found a gun lying on the floor. Making a hasty decision, Marissa shot Trey in the back and he almost died. I was shocked to say the least, but I when I found out about it, I wasn't angry with her for her decision. I was proud of her. She had saved Ryan and even if it appeared I didn't like him, I was glad she had.
Later that year, Marissa was almost expelled from school for the shooting. It pissed me off; she shot him because she had to. If she hadn't, Ryan would've been murdered. And yet, all the parents said Marissa was a danger to their own children; somehow we managed to work ourselves out of her being expelled. 'Ourselves'; yeah, that was promising. Jimmy, my first husband and Marissa's father, proposed to me. He then decided he didn't want to remarry me and ended up leaving on our wedding day. He gave Marissa the ring and told her to give it to me. I broke down right when she handed me the ring; she held me as I cried, which surprised me. From the way she acted, I thought she hated me. But the way she spoke and reassured me told me otherwise.
She ended up being allowed to finish school and graduated. It was possibly the proudest day of my life. I cried, even though I had told my self I wouldn't, as she was handed her diploma and smiled at me. Through the happy tears I managed to smile back. Later that night, we ate dinner together for what was supposed to be a sort of farewell dinner for Marissa. She was going off to Hawaii to live with Jimmy. Not us as in just Marissa and I; the Cohens and a few of Marissa's friends from school were there too. I just wanted to spend a quiet evening with my daughter before she had to leave, but it seemed that's what everyone else wanted. So I went to the bar, ordered a gin and tonic, and downed the whole thing in one gulp. It just seemed like the appropriate thing to do.
When Marissa joined me at the bar, I couldn't help but feel depressed. We were finally getting along and she was leaving. Figures, doesn't it? I gave her a gift, a pearl necklace, and she hugged me. I started crying again which evidentially she had anticipated. We stood there and spoke quietly until one of her friends pulled her away. She shot me an apologetic smile and I simply nodded.
The next morning, as she was packing, I strode into her room with a sense of confidence about the size of a mouse. I knew what I had to do; she deserved it. An apology for everything I, her mother, had ever done. She listened intently as I confessed how truly sorry I was and how I regretted pretty much everything awful I had ever done. I finished with a sigh, and she gave me another hug. Two hugs from her in less than twenty-four hours? No, I'm not complaining, just shocked. She left just a few minutes later with Ryan, a smile on her face as she carried her bag out to his car.
I sat on the couch that afternoon staring blankly at the television. Katilin had decided to go shopping, leaving me home alone. I fell asleep in the middle of some black and white movie that was being shown on AMC. I'd seen it a few times before, so it wasn't as if I was really missing anything.
Neil, my fiancé, awoke me somewhere around three in the morning. I'm not entirely sure of the time; all I know is that it was too early. He told me to get my coat and get in the car, that we had to go to the hospital. Being that it was in the early morning, I complied without a single question. I didn't think anything was wrong. God knows I should have.
We arrived at the hospital about fifteen minutes later, due to Neil's incredibly insane driving. He led me through the automatic doors and to the front desk. I was barely awake, so I didn't really pay attention to what he was saying. I heard two words that he exchanged with the nurse behind the desk: "Accident" and "Dead".
"Neil." I spun around to face him. "What's going on?"
"I don't know, Julie. Let's go talk to the doctor."
I followed him like a lost puppy until we reached the office of Doctor Trent. I'd never heard of the man, but he seemed fairly nice as he ushered us into his office. As Neil and I sat in the seats directly in front of the man's desk, I noticed a grim look take over Dr. Trent's face. Instantly, my motherly instincts kicked into action and I became worried.
"I'm sorry, Doctor, but what the hell are we doing here in the middle of the night?" I ran my face over my face, trying to remain calm. Neil placed a reassuring hand on my arm and I got the feeling that he knew what was wrong. It scared me even more, but I patiently waited for the doctor to respond.
"Mrs. Cooper-Nichol, I hate to have to tell you this but your daughter was involved in an automobile accident."
"Accident?" I sat up straighter, my stomach in knots. "Is she alright?"
The doctor bowed his head and I clenched my jaw. "Where is she?"
Doctor Trent glanced at Neil, who gave him a solemn nod. "She's in the morgue," He told me quietly.
My bottom lip began trembling. He had to be lying. Marissa couldn't be… dead. No, she couldn't be. There had to be some sort of mix-up.
The next few minutes were a blur. I began crying softly but I wanted to sob hysterically until I passed out. Of course I couldn't do that in the doctor's office so I just quietly cried for a few moments. I don't remember what exactly he said, but Doctor Trent told me something to do with the fact that I needed to identify the body. My eldest daughter's body. I was still in denial; she couldn't be dead, she just couldn't be.
I suppose I was wrong. In the morgue, she's laying before me now. The sleek metal table she's on is slightly gleaming in the cast of the overhead light. Holding my breath in my chest, I reach out and touch her, my palm resting upon her cheek. Her skin is cold; so goddamn cold I nearly pull back in shock. She's too young to be dead and I want to know just how the hell this happened.
Neil stands unbelievingly next to me. He and the doctor quietly discuss something out of earshot as I stand next to the Marissa's body. I can't bring myself to look away from her. She looks peaceful and it breaks my heart. I don't think she's ever looked that way since her teen years started. I muffle a sob and overhear Neil and the doctor deciding it'd be best if we left now, but I started having my breakdown.
He somehow manages to pry me away from her and out of the morgue. He locks his left arm around my shoulders; holding me tightly against him and making me feel protected. I'm not sure why I feel that way and I don't really feel like finding out. As he helped me into the car I stared blindly out the windshield, thoughts rushing through my mind.
When Marissa left earlier that morning, I thought I just had to deal with her leaving. I thought I'd see her again in a few months. Now, leaving the hospital after seeing her dead, I realize I have much more to deal with than I thought I did.