Summary: Life was slipping out from under me and all my last thoughts were about him… Marissa's thoughts when she's overdosing in Tijuana. With a little RM.

Note: Okay, so I've just started re-watching the show, and as I was watching "The Escape", basically the words to this little oneshot were writing themselves in my head and it forced me to write them down. I don't know if this has been done before, but with all probability it has. Either way, this is just my version of Marissa's thoughts and emotions as she overdoses in Tijuana.

Now, this is very different from what I've written before. I've never written anything this dark, or anything involving Marissa, and I've never used the first person POV before either, so if you read this, please review and tell me how I did! And the first part was just so dark that I needed to end with a little hope. And though I'll now always be an RT fan, I used to be hardcore RM back in the day, and that's why this has touches of RM in it.

And as for my loyal RT-loving reviewers, I can promise you that (at least) one new story with them is coming up very, very soon, probably before the end of the week.

Into Dust

I have no one…

The salty tears were burning my eyes and staining my cheeks with mascara, but the bartender barely cast me a second glance when I asked for another shot of tequila.

Everything was a mess. None of my old friends looked at me the same way since it had been revealed that my dad had stolen all their money, and because of it, dad might be going to prison. And now my parents were getting divorced, meaning I would no longer be able to seek refuge in my dad when mom was acting insane, and she'd probably make sure I never saw him again.

Then there was Luke. My supposed boyfriend. He'd told me he loved me, and I'd believed him, I'd loved him up until I'd caught him with her. But those sweet words had all been cheap words, lies he'd told just to get in my pants, and now I hated myself for buying into all of his deception.

And Holly's words had been a slap in the face. Apparently it wasn't enough that she'd thrown away eight years of friendship to hook up with my boyfriend behind my back, but she'd also been sweet enough to inform me that it wasn't the first time he'd cheated on me. There had been other girls and I had no idea for how long. The hands he'd used to touch me had been all over other girls both before and after we'd had sex. The thought was sickening to me, and I felt dirty, disgusted with myself that he'd been inside of me. I'd given up my innocence and lost my virginity to someone who'd thrown it away instantly.

I had no one. My family was falling apart and I barely had any real friends left. I'd been used, cheated on, taken advantage of… and it was killing me.

There was no place for me in this world, everything was a mess and I couldn't deal with the pain that was eating me alive. I needed to stop hurting.

I hadn't been able to stand anyone seeing me like this. The look of sympathy in Summer's eyes when she'd found me back at the hotel had been too much for me to handle. So when Summer had gone into the bathroom, and I'd caught sight of the bottle of painkillers she'd bought for her stepmother, I hadn't toyed with the idea for long. All I knew was that I was in pain and that the pills were an easy solution to numb that. It wasn't that I had a death wish or anything, I just couldn't stand the pain anymore. It was unbearable and I needed those pills to take my pain away, no matter what the cost.

It had been easy. I'd just grabbed the pills and bolted out of the room, carefully making sure that I didn't slam the door on my way out.

I hadn't brought any water with me or anything to swallow the pills with when I'd left the hotel, so I'd entered the first bar I could find, my eyes brimming with tears.

I could still barely see through my tears as I sat there on the stool at the bar, my fingers now searching for the stolen goods in my purse.

I pulled the lid off the bottle and poured out a number of chemically white and smooth pills in my hand, and found myself staring at them. I wondered to myself when I'd become that girl, the girl who stole her best friend's stepmother's painkillers to feel nothing? I found no answers, just more pain, and guilt as I briefly thought of Summer, and Seth, and Ryan… and how they must feel at this very moment. But then I figured that their empathy was just a lie too. After all, love was just a fragment of imagination, empty words spoken to take advantage of you.

Either way, that didn't matter anymore. I hesitated only for a brief second before I heaved the handful of pills into my mouth and swallowed them whole along with my shot of tequila. I choked a little on them; they were so many, and once again the tears began to fall down my cheeks. Soon I wouldn't be able to feel the pain anymore. The thought was a relief and it made a sense of calm spread through my body.

It was hot in here, I suddenly realized. Disturbingly hot, and this coming from someone who was always cold. I noticed the pearls of sweat that covered my arms and could feel it soaking through my clothes. It was hard to breathe in the heat. I felt like I was running out of oxygen and I gasped for air. I wasn't sure if this was an effect of the pills or simply because of the Mexican heat, but whatever it was, it was uncomfortable.

A few strands of hair fell onto my face and got stuck in the stains of sweat and tears. I lifted my arm to brush them out of my eyes, and my movement took an enormous amount of effort. Suddenly I felt so tired. My limbs all seemed to way a hundred pounds and as I fought to catch my breath I could still feel the tequila and the pills burning my throat. I rested my heavy head on the hard, shiny counter. I just wanted to sleep and then everything would feel better. The pain wasn't gone at all, I realized. It was only worse now. I wanted it all to go away and closed my eyes for a few seconds, hoping my wish would be granted.

It wasn't. When I opened my eyes again, the room was spinning. I blinked a few times to regain my perspective, but it was for no good; everything kept twirling. In the distance, I caught sight of three men staring at me from another table. They all looked at me like vultures; as if I was their prey and they were just waiting for me to drift into unconsciousness so they could take advantage of me. Their dark eyes held the promises of the dark, dark things that they were going to do to me, and I knew that if I stayed here, my fate would lie in their hands.

I had to leave. Through my sweat and my tears I could see one of the men getting up on his feet, beginning his journey towards me. I panicked and the little part of me that still felt something kicked in and I quickly got off my stool, swaying on the spot. Dragging my feet behind me, I stumbled out of the bar, nearly falling down, but in the last second my hand found a pole to hold on to for support.

I kept stumbling my way onto the street, my limbs so heavy now that I could barely move them, with the only intention of getting as far away from those men in that bar

I knew I was in over my head: I shouldn't have taken those pills, I shouldn't have left the hotel room. Somewhere in the back of my mind I fidgeted with the idea of calling Summer, but my legs couldn't seem to walk and have my hands digging in my purse simultaneously, and I had to keep going. I had to get away from those men.

I had no idea where I was anymore, but none of it mattered to me as long as my steps took me away from that bar. I still felt the pain, it just wouldn't go away. The sweat that ran down my body burned like fire on my skin and my eyelids were so heavy that I had to struggle to keep them open. I kept walking, swaying, I reaching for anything in my way to keep me on my feet. My hands made no difference of the support of strangers, house walls or wooden beams, I just knew that I couldn't keep going for much longer. My throat was smoldering and I choked back the urge to vomit, placing my hand to cover my mouth as I stumbled through a crowd.

I swayed at the spot, my own feet not carrying me anymore and the world around me spinning faster than a whirlwind. Everything was a blur; I couldn't see straight and only flashes of images caught my eyes. Blinding lights from streetlamps, strange masks, bottles of liquor, dark eyes, smiling mouths. No two images were the same, yet they were all alike.

There were sounds everywhere that blended into one single, overwhelming noise. I could hear laughter, and wondered vaguely what there was to laugh about. Happiness was an illusion, a flicker of an emotion that never lasted long. Either the people must be oblivious to the misery in their own lives, or they would soon experience a heartbreak that would forever paint their lives in the darkest shade of black. Someday they would all experience something so painful that there would be no emotion but the pain you felt to remind you that you're still alive. It was nothing to feel joyful about.

My body was begging for rest.All the sounds; music playing on the top volume, the cries from people all around me, the laughter… Too strong, too loud, it was all too much. I wanted to tune it all out. I had to get away from the noise.

Another stumble took me away from the crowd and I felt sand leaking through my shoes. It was quiet here, nicer. My hand reached for the nearest thing to support me and cold, stone met my palm. It was dark, the blackness was overwhelming and my head felt like it was going to explode.

Rest. Rest is all I need…

The darkness surrounded me, but I fought back the urge to sleep by leaning my back against a wall of sorts to catch my breath and give me the strength to go on. My head was so heavy it took support by resting in my knees before my legs caved from under me. I fell, first into sitting position, but then I could feel the sand sticking to the sweat all over my body, and nestling in between my fingers and I realized that I must be lying down.

Finally I was resting. My body relaxed in pure relief. It was too hard to get up, I didn't have any power left in me. I was just going to rest for a little while and then maybe gather enough strength to get up. Just rest…

It was comfortable to lie there in the dust. Consciousness seemed to come and pass. All sensation in my body slowly began to ebb out of me and the pain faded along with it. I was just comfortably numb. I wasn't even so hot anymore. I was just comfortable, and when I closed my eyes my head wasn't spinning anymore. The pills had done the trick: I was no longer in pain.

My thoughts all centered around him; the mysterious boy I'd never really gotten the chance to know, but who'd already been there for me in every way imaginable. I knew then that I was probably never going to get up from the ground on my own, and a sting of regret washed over me as a I realized that we would never get our chance. And never again would I be able to gaze into those exquisitely clear blue eyes…

I was no longer aware of my surroundings. Life was slipping out from under me and my mind began to drift off and slowly the blackness turned lighter and lighter.

Everything was just so simple and peaceful. It was almost too easy.

If this is what it's like to die, then it's not so bad…

Then I felt a hand on me, and the softest and most beautiful voice told me:

"Hey, honey, come on. Wake up."

And that's when I knew with all certainty that I was dead.

He was my glimmer of hope, the sparkle of light at the end of the long, dark tunnel.

I wanted to see him, and my eyelids fluttered in the effort to pry my eyes open, in order to catch a glimpse of his face and the heaven in which I now resided.

"Wake up," the beautiful voice repeated and I could feel his hand stroking my face.

I struggled with all my strength to comply his wish, but my eyes failed to open and my body was still too heavy for me to give him any other signs to indicate I could hear him. Was heaven really supposed to be like this? Were you supposed to feel this helpless?

I could feel him pick me up in his arms and for the first time since the summer had begun, I felt safe. I could feel his alluring scent and the warmth of his body as he carried me, my lifeless body resting safely in his arms. I was unsure if I was dead or alive, but in that moment, it wasn't significant. He was all I wanted and he was here. Everything else had seized to matter.

I felt peaceful and safe in his arms. This was my heaven.

Disclaimer: Oh right, I don't own The O.C. if anyone thought differently.

Now if you've read this, please review! It would mean the world to me!