NOTE: I do not own any of 'The O.C' characters… you can thank FOX. If you have any questions or comments you can e-mail me at liverbrain22@hotmail.com
(Please read and review!)
A/N: Okay, I have serious writer's block for my other story; 'Patience Still Waiting'…So, I decided to just go ahead and start writing another short fic. This is it. There's only one part to this story. The other day I was watching the Christmas episode and it inspired me to write about one of Ryan's Christmas' experience. It's all in Ryan's POV and it's my first time doing a fanfic like this. So, please help me out and review this story. I love feedback and pointers for any future fanfics I plan to write. (Sorry for any spelling errors. I tried my best.)
"Atwood's and holidays...it's not a good combination." Ryan, from the episode: 'The Best Chrismukkah Ever'
I sat in the back of my seventh grade class, half-listening to the other kids in the class talk about their plans for Christmas vacation. My teacher, Ms. Hung, was going around the class asking the other kids of their plans. I lazily folded my arms over my beat-up desk and dropped my head, letting out a long sigh. I hated Christmas and wished it would soon be over. The sooner, the better. Every year was the same old shit. Mom would usually get drunk and blame the lack of presents on my Dad. And then there were her boyfriends she brought around the house. All of them hated me, which I could care less of, really. I'm told I have a smart mouth on me but that's their problem – not mine.
Ms. Hung laughed as Theresa, who was sitting in front of me, explaining how she was going to stuff her face with turkey until she passed out. "Ryan? What about you? Do the Atwood's have any special traditions you'd like to share with the class?" Ms. Hung asked. Everyone turned around in their seats, waiting for my reply. I wasn't much of a talker in class and so, when it came to my turn to talk out loud, things never went my way. There has always been something there to screw it up for me every time.
I slouched back in my seat and shrugged at Ms. Hung. No one in the class really cared what 'Ryan Atwood' was going to do, so why should I bother? "No…Not really." I told the class. "We, uh, we go out and visit my cousins who live in Canada." I lied. As if I was going to tell my poor teacher I was probably going to get my ass kicked in for reasons I still don't know of. One day it could be the tone I talked to my mom, other times it was the way I acted or didn't act. It was like living on a rollercoaster in my house. You're always nervous, especially when you're afraid of heights, but then when you reach the top and fall down, you've already passed out.
Theresa quickly turned around and shot me her look. I hated that look. She knew me too well and it scared me sometimes. I went beet red and frowned at her.
"Wow, Canada." Ms. Hung exclaimed. "Lucky you. I bet it's pretty cold up there in the winter time."
"Yeah, it's pretty cold." Heck, I've never been outside of California. My family was always moving around, but that stopped when dad got arrested. After dad was arrested, we moved away from Fresno and moved into Chino. Mom had promised me that things would be different and that we'd start over. I was starting to thinking she lied to me. It wouldn't be the first time.
The school bell rang and I quickly left the school, hopping on my bike, and making my way home. I knew that I would have a couple of hours to myself before Mom and her loser boyfriend would be come home. Trey wouldn't be home either. Mom had kicked him out on the curb the other day for threatening Franco, my mom's current loser boyfriend, with a knife. I found it quite amusing, but no one else did.
I threw my second-hand bike to the side of the house and walked in through the back door. "Hey, Sheeba." I roughed up the old mutt's matted hair and kissed her on the top of the head. Trey and I had found Sheeba a couple of months ago. We put up flyers and everything but no one claimed her, so we begged Mom for almost a week until she agreed that we could keep her. We weren't exactly sure what kind of dog she was. She looked like she was mixed with Labrador Retriever and Husky.
I filled her tin bowl with water and walked down the hallway, making my way to my room. I turned on my tiny T.V and lay down on my bed, watching cartoons for the next hour.
"Ry!"
I opened my eyes and glanced at my watched. Shit. I must have fallen asleep. It was almost seven o'clock. Running my hands through my shaggy hair cut, I walked into the living room. "Hey, Mom."
"Where've you been and where's supper?" She demanded.
"I – I didn't know when you were going to be home so I didn't make it." I quickly replied, looking into the kitchen, where Franco was exploring the fridge's contents.
"Whatever." Mom waved me off and walked into the kitchen. "Ry, I want you to go to the grocery store for me tomorrow and pick up a few things for our Christmas dinner." She yelled out from the kitchen, looking for something to eat.
"Like what?" I asked. "And with what money? I don't have any money." I leaned against the doorframe and watched supper being made. Tonight we were having Fanco's specialty – Mayo sandwiches.
"What the hell happened to the money I gave you a few days ago?" Mom shouted at me, scrapping the last of the Mayo from bottle.
"I bought groceries with it." I lied. Theresa asked me out that night and even though she made sure I knew I didn't have to buy her anything – I still did. I bought her the ticket for the movie that we went to go see. It wasn't anything big, that was for sure, but at least she knew I liked her.
"Kid, it doesn't look like it." Franco stated, handing me a Mayo sandwich. I took it and bit into it, swallowing hard. I hated Mayo sandwiches but I knew it was better than having nothing at all. "So, what did you do with your mother's money?" He demanded. "If you're not buying groceries with it, then you're mother and I can find other ways to spend it."
"God knows I know that." I mumbled, taking another bite of my sandwich and leaving the house. Franco shouted out after me but I ignored him and went next door.
"Ryan." Theresa opened her front door. "What are you doing here?"
I quickly hid my half-eaten Mayo sandwich and stood taller. I wished for my father's genes to kick in and help me grow a few feet before I got to high school. "I was just in the neighborhood."
"Right." She laughed and waved me inside.
I threw my sandwich into the bushes and followed her into her room.
"So, Canada, eh?" Theresa joked. "I never knew."
"Yeah, well, it's not something I like to tell a lot of people." I replied, sitting down on her purple bedspread. I looked around her room, admiring the butterfly wallpaper. Theresa always reminded me of a butterfly.
"Are you hungry? We just ate supper and we have tons of leftover's."
I shrugged and followed her into the kitchen were she made me a hot plate of roast beef and mash potatoes.
"So, what are you really doing for Christmas?" She asked me, her tone was very serious this time. "It is in two days. I can't wait!"
I did my usual shrug and continued eating. "So, have you seen Trey?"
"No, did your Mom kick him out again?"
"Yeah." I finished my last bite and brought the plate to the sink and rinsed it. Theresa's mom was probably one of the best cooks I knew of.
Arturo, Theresa's older brother, came walking into the kitchen. "Hey, Ryan. What's up, kid?" He slapped me on the back. "Hitting on my sister again, are we?"
"Arturo, get lost." Theresa tuned beet red.
"Uh, I think I should go now before, well you know, before…yeah. Bye." I quickly left their house. God, I really liked that girl. Every time I saw her, chills ran down throughout my whole body and I would feel like I could tell her anything and everything. I never did though, because the truth was that I was in fact afraid of what she might think of me.
I quietly made my way to my room and found Sheeba lying down on my bed in the rumple on my bed covers. "Hey, girl." I lay down beside her and ran my fingers through her tangled fur. I felt something wet and pulled my hand out. "What the…" I almost shouted. My hand was covered in her blood. I tore away the sheets and looked down at the mess of blood.
Was this really happening?
How could it be happening? Sheba was always inside the house.
Oh God, what am I going to do?
I started counting the little puppies. They were all squirming around trying to find Sheeba's teats. There were eight in total and all so small. I noticed one not moving and poked at it. It didn't move. I carefully picked up the newborn pup and shuddered when I realized that it had died.
I could hear my mom and Franco yelling in the living room over something stupid.
"Shit. What am I going to do?" Sheeba was lying helplessly on my bed and I was in the middle of my small bedroom holding a dead puppy.
"Ry?" I could hear my mom's drunken slur. "W-where the hell are you!"
"Uh, here. I'm in bed." I shouted, still holding the dead newborn in my hands. I went over to my closet and grabbed a shoebox. I couldn't throw the puppy out like garbage. That was just wrong.
"Get your ass out here right now!" My mom yelled from the living room. Hollywood Squares was blaring in the background.
I left Sheeba lying on my bed and ran to the bathroom to wash my hands. "What?" I stood at the doorway of the living room. Mom had a bottle of vodka in her hands and Franco was downing the last of the beer. I noticed the Cocaine spread out on the coffee table and shuddered. Franco had his usual heroin lying next to him on the table.
"Where the hell is Trey?" She asked.
"I don't know, you kicked him out. How should I know?" I asked, turning my head and looking at my bedroom door. I hope Sheeba was doing okay with her puppies.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Ry? I was doing you a favor by kicking his sorry ass out on the streets." Mom explained to me for like the hundredth time. Somehow it never got old for her. "If it weren't for your no-good father…" She trailed off and laughed at the television set.
I stood at the doorway waiting for my mom to finish, but she didn't.
"Hey kid, get your ass over here." Franco patted the seat cushion next to him. I hesitantly made my way over to him and sat down. He took off his belt and wrapped it around his arm. He bit the belt and pulled harder so that his vein popped out. He motioned over to the needle on the table next to him and I picked it up. I knew the drill. For a twelve-year-old, I knew too much about the drill and it scared me. I cautiously brought the needle to his inner arm and looked up at him. He nodded his head for me to go on and closed his eyes. I looked over at my mom; she had passed out on the other couch with the bottle of vodka still clutched in her hands.
It was always the same thing almost every night. I'd help them shoot up because they were too drunk to do so themselves and then I'd take off and make sure that I wasn't around – At least for a few hours or so. For the life of me, I never understood how they could live like that. I hated seeing my mom doing that to herself. I tried so many times to convince her to seek help and try to stop her nasty habit, but she never did. I guess she cared more about her fixes than she did about me.
Franco tilted his head back, waiting for his fix. I couldn't do it. For the life of me, I couldn't do it, not now. Not ever again. It was almost Christmas and here they were getting pissed drunk and shooting up. Why should I help them? I want it to stop. Why can't they stop?
I threw the needle down to the ground and stood up. Franco's eyes flew open. "What the fuck are you doing, kid?" He shouted out to me, each word hitting its own chord. There was always some form of musical instrument in our house. Sometimes, I swear, I thought I lived in a damn orchestra.
"I'm not helping you anymore. Find your own goddamn vein!" I yelled at him and stormed off down the hallway to my room.
Franco stumbled after me and banged on my door. He turned the knob and pressed his body against the door. I was on the other side, face turning red, trying to hold the door shut. I knew that I wasn't going to win this one, so I quickly let go and grabbed a blanket, covering up Sheeba and her newborns.
Franco came charging into the room and grabbed my arm. He swung me against my dresser. "Oh, would you look at this…No Trey to come and save the day this time." His breath smelt like rotten fish. He pulled at my arm and I tried to push him away from me. He took his belt off of his arm and twisted the end around his hand. "What you going to do now, pretty boy?" He threatened me with his belt and punched me in the stomach.
I fell to the ground in an instant and then quickly stood my ground. I stood back up and folded my arms over my chest. Franco grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into him. "When I tell you do something, you do it. Got it?" His fingernails were digging in the back of my neck.
I forced myself to agree with him and he let go my neck. He then shoved me against the wall, the back of my head hitting something sharp, and then he left my room.
"Shit." I mumbled to myself, as I slid to the floor. I took my right hand and felt the back of my head. It was sticky with blood. I looked up at the wall and noticed a rusted nail poking out with blood on the tip. I carefully stood up, ignoring my throbbing head, and checked on Sheeba and her newborns.
"Hey girl." I scratched her head. I then grabbed a couple of T-shirts from my dresser and wrapped them around the puppies. I knew nothing about taking care of newborns. I hope the library was open tomorrow. They don't close on Christmas Eve, do they?
Too tired to care about anything else, I went to bed on my floor because Sheeba was taking up the whole bed with her newborns.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Ry!" My mom walked into my bedroom and kicked my feet. "Wake up. Theresa's at the door." She looked over at my bed and frowned. "So, the dog is now top priority? She takes the bed and you get the floor?"
"What? No. I just felt like sleeping on the floor, okay?" I stood up and brushed my clothes from the dirt on the floor.
"What the hell is that?" My mom pointed to the ground. "Is that blood on my carpet? Fuck, Ry, how many times do I have to tell you? Shit, you never listen, do you?" She swatted my arm and left my bedroom.
"Sorry." I mumbled and left my room to answer the door. "Hey, Theresa." I closed the door behind me and sat down on the porch.
"What happened?" Theresa ran her fingers threw my hair. "You're bleeding."
I swatted her hand away from my head and shrugged. "It's nothing. I fell, okay? What did you want?"
She sat down next to me and pulled out a small paper bag. "I wanted to give you your Christmas present."
"Christmas is tomorrow."
"So?"
"Okay, fine. Hold on though, let me go get your present." I ran inside and grabbed the gift I had stolen from my mom's jewelry box and returned to the porch. "Here." I handed the small gift to her that was wrapped in newspaper. We both opened our gifts.
"Ryan." Theresa held up the glass butterfly pin to the sun. "It's so beautiful." She pinned it to the yellow shirt that she was wearing. I knew she would like it. I hope Mom wasn't going to miss it. "So, do you like what I got you? I know it's nothing much." She blushed. "I was with my mom the other day shopping and I saw this at a booth and I knew you'd love it."
"I do." I looked down at the necklace that she had bought me. "Can you…uh, can you help…" I stuttered and handed her the leather necklace. She tied it around my neck. "Thanks." I smiled at her. "So…"
"So…" She laughed and stood up. "I have to go, but I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Yeah…sure." I nodded my head and watched her walk over to her house. I felt the leather around my neck and rolled it between my fingertips. I was never going to take this necklace off.
"RYAN!" Franco raged out. "What are these things doing in your room!" I ran into the house and into my room, where Franco and Mom were standing over my bed.
"What the hell is this, Ry?" She demanded.
"She had babies." I sat down next to Sheba on my bed.
"Yeah, I can see that. How the hell did this happen?"
"Well…" I looked back and forth between Mom and Franco. "I came home yesterday and there they were…"
Mom picked up a puppy and examined it. "Get rid of them, Ry."
I stood up and grabbed the puppy away from her greedy hands. "Sheeba has to take care of them, Mom." I placed the pup down next to Sheba.
"We have enough mouths to feed already." Franco spoke up.
"So leave." I spat back.
"Ry." Mom scowled.
"No." I shook my head and stepped back. "It's almost Christmas, Mom. We'll get rid of them after…After that, they can be away from their mother. I swear. They need their mother." I told her. She probably wouldn't understand though. She was like that. She was a mother herself and she didn't care of her kids. Heck, she didn't even know where one of them was right now.
"Say goodbye to them, Ry. We're getting rid of them." She left the room with Franco.
"Fuck." I slammed my door loudly and heard them both shout out at me. I shoved my dresser in front of my door and sat down on my bed. "I'm not letting anything happen to you guys." I told Sheeba and her seven little puppies.
"Ryan, open the door." Franco bagged on the door. He turned the knob and pressed his body against the door. Thank God for solid oak dressers. He kicked at the door and started swearing.
"Franco, you break a door and its another thing we gotta pay for!" My mom yelled at him.
"Tell that to your fucking kid." He kicked the door once more and left.
"Ryan, I need you to go to the store and get me some things for tomorrow's dinner." My mom said softly, through the door.
"You'll probably be passed out by dinner time, so why bother?" I shouted. "Why don't you just go and get yourself fixed up now to get it over with. It'll happen sooner or later!"
"Excuse me?" She shouted. "Ry, open this door and hand over the puppies!" I fell silent and didn't say anything for the longest time. I could still hear her standing in the hallway. "Ry, what are you doing in there?" I let her question hang in the air. She mumbled something through the door and then I heard her footsteps disappear down the hallway.
I turned on my television and started watching Saturday morning cartoons. Even though Trey wasn't the best big brother in the world, I wished for him to be here with me right now. He was stronger than me and would fight for the puppies. I'll try, that's for sure, but will I win? I let the thought float around in my head and fell asleep.
My stomach tossed and turned when I woke up a couple of hours later. I hadn't eating anything since Theresa's mom's roast beef and mash potatoes. I contemplated on leaving my room and going into the kitchen but that was too risky. Maybe I had some old food lying around in my room.
I stood up from the floor and rubbed my ass. I made a mental note to try and get Sheeba and her newborns on the floor with some blankets. I rummaged around my room, throwing things to the ground, and looked for any site of food.
"Ry, you hungry?" My mom asked from the living room. "We bought some pizza."
Pizza…That sounded so good right now. My mouth started to water at the thought of it. Even my belly agreed with a light rumble. I pushed my dresser away from the door and went out into the hallway. Franco was waiting on the other side and grabbed me by the waist. "Get off of me." I struggled with him, but he was too strong. "Mom, what are you doing?" She was in the bathroom running the water in the tub. "Mom?"
She filled the tub up, went into my room, and started taking the puppies away from Sheeba. "It's for their own good, Ry. She brought the seven puppies into the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub. "You'll understand why I'm doing this when you're older."
I suddenly realized what she was about to do, so I tried to stop her. I kicked Franco in the shin and ran into the bathroom, grabbing the puppies. "You can't kill them!" Franco came up from behind me and knocked me over the tub. Four of the seven babies fell into the water. I quickly started to grab the puppies from the scalding hot water, but it was too late. My mom already had her greedy hands in the tub. Franco grabbed me by my shoulder blades and pulled me away from the tub. Mom started drowning the newborns, one by one. I closed my eyes tightly and let the tears I tried so hard to ignore fall down my cheeks.
"Once you empty the tub, I want you to go to the store." My mom patted me on my cheek and left the bathroom. Franco shoved me to the ground and left.
I sat on the cold tile floor in the bathroom and peered into the tub. The seven puppies floated around the water like little sailboats. Vomit rose inside my throat and I dashed for the toilet. I heaved all I could before standing up and wiping my mouth on my shirtsleeve.
I looked back at the seven puppies floating in the way and closed my eyes. How could she do that to something that was living? I knew I would never understand her. Maybe one day I'll never have to see her again. I slowly walked over to the tub and pulled the plug out, watching the water drain out the hole. The puppies were the other things left in the tub. I was too scared to pick them up, so I didn't. I left the house in a hurry and ran into the bushes so I could throw up again.
"Ryan?"
I turned around to see Theresa standing behind me.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I backed away from the bushes and started walking down the sidewalk. She followed next to me. "What are you doing, Theresa?"
"Seeing if you're okay…Are you okay?" She brushed my hair away from my eyes, as we walked over to the park.
"I'm fine."
"What's wrong, Ryan? You were crying. I can tell." She brushed my face and sat down on the swing next to me. "You can tell me anything, you know that. I'm always here for you."
I started swinging. "Sheeba had puppies yesterday."
"She did? Can I see them? I've never seen newborn puppies before."
"Their dead. My mom drowned them."
Theresa fell silent and started to swing next to me.
"I tried to stop her." I whispered, kicking my feet higher in the air to get the swing to go at full speed. "She said it was for my own good but what good is it really doing to me now?" I asked her, not really expecting a reply. "It's always the same shit every single Christmas. Something always has to happen to screw it up."
Theresa shrugged. I was rarely open to her and I think I caught her off guard.
I jumped off my swing and flew into the air, landing in the sandbox. Theresa did the same.
"I don't know what to say, Ryan." Theresa picked up a hand full of sand and let it drop down between her fingers.
"You don't have to say anything." I told her.
"I feel like I should though. You're my best friend."
"I know." I stood up and she followed me back home. "Well, I have to go get rid of the puppies that are in my tub."
"Want me to come with you?" She offered.
I shook my head. "No, I can do it. I'll see you tomorrow."
Theresa leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Ryan Atwood." She said quickly and then ran inside her house.
Somehow, I knew that this Christmas was going to be different than all the other Christmas' I've had. Sure, I had seven dead puppies lying in my bathtub, and another one lying in a shoebox somewhere in my closet, but at least there were no cops this Christmas. At least, not yet. I shouldn't say that though, Christmas isn't until tomorrow.
THE END