Disclaimer ~ Don't own anything OC related, well not the show anyway.
This has been rattling around in my brain for some time now, so I figured I'd start writing it despite having 3 other un-posted stories being beta read currently.
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The speaker began blaring with that damn pre-recorded bell overhead. Time for lunch.
Ryan got up. He didn't want to go, but it was easier to just do it. No one would give him any trouble if he just went.
He walked slowly over to the concrete wall with the peeling off-white paint, lining up with all of the others.
"Hey asshole, you're in my spot."
Ryan turned and looked at the guy who was speaking. He was about 6'1", overweight. Ryan knew he wouldn't put up much of a fight. He took a step back, letting the big guy get in front of him, feeling a lump under his left heel.
"Hey asshole, you stepped on my foot."
Ryan turned around just in time to see the fist coming towards his face. Ryan went down hard with the first hit. He reached his hand up and felt blood.
He heard a whistle and then heard footsteps. He felt the guy kick him in the ribs and he drew himself into the fetal position, still trying to stop the blood flow from his nose with his knee.
"Get back, everyone get the fuck back now!"
Ryan heard some movement and then felt himself being hauled up to his feet.
"Atwood, you've not even been here a full day yet and already you are starting fights. You're going to solitary."
Before he could say anything in protest, Ryan felt himself being drug down the hall towards the wing that was different than the rest. Instead of having bars to separate it, there was a sliding sound-proof glass door.
The guard opened one of the interior doors and shoved Ryan in. "Here's a towel for your nose."
Ryan felt the towel hit his shoulder before he even had a chance to turn around. How in the hell did this happen?
He sat down on the floor of his new home. He'd probably be here a few days - a week at most. This was his first time, surely they were just teaching him a lesson.
He held the towel to his face to blot the blood. He couldn't see what he looked like, but felt some swelling on his cheek as he used the towel to wipe his face off.
This was just what he needed, to be beaten up. Now the other prisoners would seek him out. A weakling. Maybe the guards put him in here for his own protection instead.
He pressed the other side of his face to the cold concrete wall. It felt good. Honestly, he hadn't even felt the beating out there. He hadn't felt much these days. Not since…
***
"…Ryan come on honey, let's go to Oliver's party at the penthouse okay? It'll be fun…"
"…Hey Oliver, who's that guy? He looks like a drug dealer or something. You know him?"
" …Ryan, I'm scared…"
"…Look out Ryan, he's got a gun!"
"…Marissa, I'm going to grab the gun, go call 911…"
"…Come on you fucking piece of trash, I dare you, pull the trigger…"
"…Oh Marissa, oh god no, Marissa…honey, can you hear me? Stay with me Marissa honey, please stay with me!"
"No…no…nooooo!" Ryan sat up from the floor suddenly. It was pitch black and he was covered in sweat. At first he'd forgot where he was, then it sunk in. He was in solitary confinement. In Men's Central Jail in Santa Ana.
Waiting to be charged with the murder of Marissa Cooper.