A/N This just popped into my head randomly yesterday. The song I used is, 'Stuck in a moment that you can't get out of.' by U2. I know I have tons of stories already and this will just make it harder to update all of them but I really wanted to write this. Um, I'm having computer difficulty and soon I will not be able to come on as much as I usually do. Read this and my other stories if you don't feel like possibly waiting months for a reply on here at the oc addicts website... I thought I'd post this and see if anyone likes it on here and if you guys do then I'll continue writing it later on. But anyways, tell me what you think of this story and I hope you enjoy.
It was a normal day in Orange County , California . The weather was nice, not too hot, but not cold. It was a perfect day on the beach too for all the women who wanted to get their natural tans and for all the surfers who were looking for the perfect wave. The air on the pier smelled of a mix of salt water from the ocean and popcorn from stands along the pier. It was the perfect day for another Newport Charity event, this one being held at the Cohen residence. Ryan Atwood was attending along with one of his friends, Luke Ward. The Cohens were his adoptive parents and he always loved to see them. So when the opportunity arose, he was more than happy to come to their party for the homeless shelter. He'd always promised Luke that he'd take him to a party one of these days and now was the perfect chance.
He arrived at the beautiful McMansion that his adoptive parents lived in and opened the door, knowing that the party was already going on in the back. Luke followed him curiously and when they reached the back yard he looked over at Luke to see his reaction. Luke's eyes bulged out of his head at the sight before him. "You guys have one of these every week?" He asked, staring at the way everyone was dressed as if they were going to be on the cover of the next magazine (which some would) and the way there were so many elaborate decorations that made it a beautiful sight to see in the dim light of the setting sun. The house overlooked the beach which just seemed to make everything that much more beautiful and perfect.
That was Orange County for you though. On the outside, everything was in its little place and everyone played their role in society to the fullest. What no one knew was that among these rich people was one person who was set aside as an outcast. One particular person that happened to arrive to this formal event mere minutes after Ryan. No one really even acknowledged this person's arrival to the party or acknowledged them at all during the next two hours. Maybe if someone had taken the time to say a quick hello or how do you do, things would have turned out differently. Maybe if someone had noticed this seemingly invisible person, the outsider would have decided that all was okay and that what they were doing was insane and completely against everything they'd ever learned.
But no one said hello, no one cared enough to even look in this person's direction. So when the party was about to be over and everyone was ready to go home and started to say their goodbyes, perhaps their last goodbyes ever, this particular person chose to show that they in fact did exist. So they pulled that gun that they'd been hiding in the waistband of their pants and pulled the trigger, signaling that they were in fact there, that they did in fact exist. And for once this particular person felt that they were no longer invisible but rather important.
And for once in their entire lifetime, everyone knew their name.
3 Months Later
"I told you guys already, I don't remember anything from that night. It's all a blur, and to be quite honest, I don't mind not remembering every single detail of that night." Ryan said annoyed. "Why can't you guys just let me be and go find another victim to aggravate? I hate you, you hate me, see, it would all be a lot easier on the both of us." He stared at the detective in front of him and waited for an answer.
I'm not afraid of anything in this world
There's nothing you can throw at me that I haven't already heard
I'm just trying to find a decent melody
A song that I can sing in my own company
"Because you're the only survivor from the whole ordeal for some reason beyond me." The detective said with a sigh. He walked off and muttered, "Wouldn't be the case if it was up to me…"
"What did you say?" Ryan asked furiously. He didn't even wait for the detective in front of him to answer before saying, "Look, I don't care about the shooting, I don't care about who did this, I don't want to find him or her or relive any single detail of that night. I just want to go home and rest and then go to work tomorrow like none of this has ever happened. Will you grant me that one tiny wish?" He asked, softening his voice towards the end.
The detective sighed and then said, "Mr. Atwood, you may not care about the shooting, but we do. We want to make sure that something like this doesn't happen again and in order to do that, we need to get this person off the street and into jail where he belongs. I'm going to do a favor for the both of us. We both know that you need to talk to someone about what happened." He saw Ryan about to protest and then said, "Don't fight it, it's pretty obvious." He saw how Ryan shut his mouth and then added, "Maybe it will help you sort some things out and along the road you might remember something."
"So what, you're sending me to a shrink?" Ryan asked with raised eyebrows. "You really expect me to go through with this?"
The detective rolled his eyes and said, "A psychiatrist is the correct term, but yes, I do expect you to go through with this. It's a pretty good idea if you ask me."
Ryan laughed slightly and said, "Yeah, because you came up with it. Whether it's a psychiatrist or a shrink, I'm not going. I'm not that guy."
"What guy Mr. Atwood? You're not the guy that witnesses everyone you love get killed right in front of your eyes and doesn't remember anything? Or are you not the guy who is not willing to talk about it?" The detective gave him a look and then said, "You've been through everyone's worst nightmare. You've seen firsthand what it's like to have everyone that's ever meant anything be taken from you. Talk about it, tell someone how you feel."
"I'm not doing it." Ryan stated belligerently.
The detective stared at him for along time and then walked out of the room. Ryan watched him go, wondering what he was up to. He knew after three months of being bugged by this guy that he didn't give up so easily. He wondered what this guy had up his sleeve. He didn't have to wait long before finding out though. The detective walked back into the room carrying a stack of manila folders. He opened the first one and read, "Sanford Cohen, called Sandy by friends, co workers, and family. Had one biological son named Seth Cohen but adopted Ryan Atwood eight years ago. Hobbies include surfing, singing show tunes, and spending time with his family. He's originally from the Bronx but went to school at Berkeley where he met his future wife Kirsten. Extra notes; he loved to annoy his father in law. Died on the night of May seventeenth from a gunshot wound to the head. Died at the scene.
I never thought you were a fool
But darling, look at you
You gotta stand up straight, carry your own weight
These tears are going nowhere, baby
"Kirsten Cohen, called Kiki by her father. She was the mother of a Seth Cohen but also adopted Ryan Atwood. She worked at the Newport Group with her father and hobbies include spending time with her family and friends. She was raised in Newport and then went to Berkeley and met Sanford , a.k.a. Sandy, Cohen. Side note; her mother died when she was younger of Cancer. Died on the night of May Seventeenth from a gunshot wound to the heart. Died on the scene.
"Seth Ezekiel Cohen, age twenty four. He was the son of Sandy and Kirsten Cohen, the grandson of Caleb Nichol. He worked as a comic book artist after making his own when he was back in high school with a Zach Stevens. Hobbies include drawing, listening to music at the Bait Shop, hanging out with his family, and sailing. Side notes; was a big geek in high school and is guessed to never have had a solid relationship. Died on the night of May Seventeenth from a punctured artery after a gunshot wound. Died in the ambulance.
"Luke Ward, age twenty four. He was originally from L.A. , California but moved to Newport in April. His hobbies include playing football, basketball, and swimming. He worked as an architect at the Newport Group and went to Berkeley where he met a Ryan Atwood and quickly befriended him. Side notes; his dad was gay and he had twin brothers. Died on the night of May Seventeenth from a gunshot wound to the stomach. Died in ambulance.
"Ryan Atwood, age twenty four. Originally from Chino , California , he was abandoned by his mom, his older brother Trey was sentenced to life in prison after killing someone, and his father was arrested for armed robbery. His father got out a few years ago but robbed another store and ended up right back in jail. Ryan was arrested for attempting to steal a car and later adopted by his lawyer, Sandy Cohen and Sandy 's wife Kirsten. Hobbies include hanging out with his new family, coming up with new ideas for future designs, and listening to the occasional Journey song. He's been working as an architect for the Newport Group. Side notes; he's a good fighter and Caleb Nichol hates him. He is the only survivor out of more than twenty people in the shooting at the Cohen residence. Injuries include a shot to the arm and a major concussion from a fall. He was admitted to the hospital on the night of May Seventeenth and released on the night of the Nineteenth."
The detective let the information sink in and stared at Ryan for a couple of minutes. He shoved the folders across the table to Ryan and asked, "Did I leave anything out?"
Ryan looked down at the manila folders and opened the top one which was a picture of him taken earlier in the year. Then he looked at Luke's picture, and then Seth's, and then Kirsten, and then Sandy's, each picture getting harder to take. He finally looked up at the detective and asked, "How?"
"How what?"
You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment and now you can't get out of it
Don't say that later will be better now you're stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it
"How did you know all this stuff about us? How did you know our hobbies and all the details about our lives?" He asked, starting to become emotional.
"Your lives aren't secret Mr. Atwood. People know you guys and know your family, or what used to be your family." The detective gave him a sympathetic look and then asked,
"So what's it going to be?"
He didn't know what possessed him at that moment, what made him do what he did. He might even question it at a later date, but at that moment, all he could see was the pictures in front of him of his now dead family staring back at him. So he straightened in his seat and looked up at the detective that he'd grown accustomed to and said, "I'll see one."
At first the detective looked shocked and then he slowly started to smile. "Great, I'll make an appointment for later in the week. Does Friday work for you?"
"Yeah, perfect." But the word perfect made him wince just a bit in his chair because the word perfect was associated with the beginning of the Seventeenth of May. Perfect was how his life used to be, before this nightmare struck. Perfect wasn't when you were going to go see a shrink to try to remember the worst night in your life where you lost not only your family but also your only other friend. Perfect wasn't trying your best to remember something that the doctors tell you that your brain just wants to forget. Perfect isn't being twenty four and having already lost the only thing that's ever mattered to you; family.
Everything was so not perfect.
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The thing they don't tell you when you're studying to become a therapist is how stupid some of your clients can really be. Seriously, where do some of these people come from? Marissa Cooper stared at the man seated across from her and sighed inwardly. She checked the clock on the wall and saw that their session was almost over. That little bit of news was enough for her to pay attention to what her client was saying.
Steve was his name. He visited her once a week and they always talked about the same thing; his mother. Seriously, who talks about their mother at the age of forty? Who lives with their mother at the age of forty? This was the real life forty year old virgin right in front of her. She smirked to herself. "…she just never leaves me alone! And….are you listening?"
She looked up at him and nodded. "Uh huh, she never listens, she never leaves you alone. She keeps nagging you about getting a better job and she tells you that you're a huge disappointment to her and the family, I get it."
I will not forsake, the colors that you bring
But the nights you filled with fireworks
They left you with nothing
I am still enchanted by the light you brought to me
I listen through your ears, and through your eyes I can see
"I never said that she said I was a huge disappointment." He said defensively. He suddenly looked really sad and she sighed.
"Oh, you didn't, I must have implied it on my own then." She saw his horrified expression and said, "Okay, I've listened to you ramble on and on about how sucky your life is and how horrible your mother is. Well I've got news for you pal, get used to it, because unless you get a job and move your lazy ass out of your mother's house, she's always going to do it. You want my advice? Stop coming here and go find yourself a girlfriend that you can annoy and start living your life the way it's supposed to be lived." She saw his shocked expression and said, "Oh, and your hour is finally over so you're free to go now."
Steve got up and left on the brink of tears and she rolled her eyes and walked to her desk. Some may call her rude but she prefers blunt and honest over fake and lying. She started looking through some papers when she heard a knock on her door and heard a familiar voice say, "I didn't know sending your clients off in tears was part of the job description."
She looked up to see Detective Harper walking into her office and felt a smile form on her face. "Then you obviously don't know Steve. He's in a league of his own, we use special methods to help him." They both laughed and she said, "What can I do for you Detective Harper?"
"I told you, Johnny, please." He said with a charming smile. She raised her eyebrows at him and he said, "Detective works too. Okay, so I have a job for you." He sat down in one of her chairs she had positioned in front of her desk and looked at her.
"Uh huh, and what job is that?" She asked curiously. "It's not another forty year old that lives with his mom is it?"
He laughed and shook his head before saying, "Well, we're doing this investigation on the shooting in Orange County and we still haven't found our suspect yet. So we were thinking that maybe you could talk to our victim for us. He doesn't remember anything from that night and really has no one else to talk to."
"Why doesn't he talk to a friend or family member?" She asked.
Detective Harper sighed and looked down before saying, "They all died."
And you are such a fool
To worry like you do
I know it's tough, and you can never get enough
Of what you don't really need now ... my oh my
"Oh." She said, that being the only word she could mutter. "Why me though, why not some other therapist?"
"You're one of the best. You get your clients to talk and right now we really need this person to tell us what happened that night, what caused it, who caused it." he sighed and asked, "So will you do it for us?"
"I guess." She said after a while with a shrug of her shoulders. "What are they like?"
"It's a guy, twenty four years old, sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, about your height." Detective Harper saw her sigh and said, "He's a pretty good guy if you ask me, but don't tell him I said that."
"Don't worry, I won't." She looked down at her desk again and then asked, "Does he remember anything at all?"
He stood up and said, "That's for you to find out." He walked out of the room, leaving Marissa to her own thoughts.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Gun shots echoed through the yard loudly and hurt his ears.
Ryan looked down at the picture of him with his family at Chrismukkah eight years ago. Everyone was so happy, everyone looked so peaceful and content. Seth always loved the holidays, and it was the one time of year that Kirsten made a point to get off so she could enjoy the whole break with her family. They would have a special dinner on Christmas Eve and watch movies late into the night. Seth would wake him up early on Christmas day after only a few hours of sleep and practically drag him to the tree to open the remainder of the gifts. Seth was like one big kid though and it always made him laugh and feel welcome. Seth was more of a brother to him than his older one used to be.
More shots followed and he could hear a ringing in his ear.
He put the picture aside and turned off the light. He slowly got under the covers and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep. He couldn't though, not when he could still hear their laughs from that particular year from Chrismukkah. He couldn't go to sleep and know that when he awoke in the morning, it meant one more day without his family, without his friends. He couldn't go to sleep and know that whatever tomorrow brought in therapy, he'd still go home alone and sad and miserable without much memory of that night but the sounds. He just couldn't.
"Help me!" A woman shouted to anyone that would listen, but it was already too late. One more shot, and suddenly there was silence.
And for the first time in years, one lone tear fell down his face and onto the pillow.
You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it
Oh love look at you now
You've got yourself stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it
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Ryan sat nervously in the waiting room of the building, waiting for his therapist to call him in. He bounced his knee up and down and looked around, trying to create a distraction so he could forget the fact that he was in therapy where he was supposed to talk about his feelings to a complete stranger, something he barely ever did with his family before they died. He looked over to a wall and saw that there was a TV on it. He watched and saw that they had it on the news. 'And there's still no lead on who the shooter could've been in the Orange County shootings three months ago…' he heard it say. He closed his eyes.
Shot after shot, cry after cry for help, but they didn't stop for anyone, didn't care.
He opened his eyes and heard someone calling his name. He looked towards the open door and saw someone with a folder in their hand staring at him impatiently. "Mr. Atwood, it's your turn." he heard them say. He stared at the person and saw that it was a woman about his age and height with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. She watched him carefully as he stood up and walked towards her and into the room. He sat down on the couch that was set out across a chair and waited for her to say something. She sat down across from him in the chair and said, "So Mr. Atwood, what are you here for?"
I was unconscious, half asleep
The water is warm till you discover how deep
I wasn't jumping for me it was a fall
It's a long way down to nothing at all
He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious?" He asked in a bitter tone. "I'm sure that Detective guy told you already."
"Detective Harper did tell me, but I want for you to be able to say for yourself why you're here." She said, looking at him and waiting for him to say something.
"And why would I need to tell you? What good will that do?" He challenged. He didn't want to say what was going on.
"It'll help you get out of denial." She stated.
"I'm not in denial about what happened." He argued.
She gave him a challenging look and then said, "So tell me why you're here."
He stared at her challenging face for a long time and saw her blue eyes staring holes through his body, burning away his resolve to not say anything. He finally says, "My family died in a shooting and my one friend died right along with them. I don't remember much of what happened or who did it. The detective wanted to know what happened though so he of course sent me to come see you. That's what I'm doing here."
"Good, now how do you feel?" She asked.
"Like crap." He replied with a sigh.
"Then it means I'm doing my job right."
"And your job is to make me feel bad?" He asked with a raise of one eyebrow.
She shook her head and said, "No Mr. Atwood, it's my job to make you feel."
"Oh. Well what's your name? If I'm going to be spending this time with you and talking to you, I think I deserve to know your name."
You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it
Don't say that later will be better now
You're stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it
"It's Dr. Marissa Cooper." She said.
"Okay, and I call you…"
"Marissa. I'll let you call me Marissa." She said with a slight smile that he couldn't understand.
"Okay, so, Marissa, I'm not really into the whole talking thing, especially not to a complete stranger." He admitted.
"Well, you obviously have no one else to talk to." She stated. "This could help you."
"How could talking about all this help me? I don't remember, I don't want to remember. I really don't get anything out of this but a loss of my time. You can go home with your check at the end of the day and talk to your mom or your friends, but me, I can't. That Detective Harper guy, he gets to solve his investigation and gets a big bonus, but what do I get out of this?" He looked away and said, "I get left with the knowledge that I'm twenty four and don't have anyone and memories that I don't want to have."
And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if our way should falter
Along the stony pass
She sighed and shook her head. "What you get, Mr. Atwood, is closure to this whole thing. You need to move on from this before it destroys you."
"The only thing that's going to destroy me at this point is remembering it."
"You went through something that none of us ever want to go through, but I'm sure you've been told that. You have the chance to lock up the guy that did this to your loved ones for good. Now we need you to try to remember something, anything."
"You want a memory?" He asked angrily. "You're not the one that goes to be every night hearing their cries for help or the one that wakes up in the morning with a ringing in your ears because you can still hear that gun no matter how hard you try to forget it. I may not remember every detail, what I said or who I talked to that night, but I remember enough to make me wish I never remember the rest." He stood up and started to walk away. "I can't be here right now." He left her alone in the room and she just sat there for a while.
She sat back in her chair and muttered, "Looks like we've already made some progress."
And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if your way should falter
Along the stony pass
It's just a moment
This time will pass