Summary: Marissa's kind of POV (not in first person, but you can read her thoughts) dealing with Ryan after the whole Trey fiasco. Please review!
Disclaimer: I own nothing that has to do with The O.C. or its characters or the words in italics (not the emphasized words, but the sentences in italics). I do, however, own the story.
From the moment she woke up, she knew Monday was going to be hard. Monday was the day she would have to face Ryan. She had successfully avoided his calls all weekend, which had been pretty hard. Sometimes she forgot how persistent Ryan could be.
For a moment she was lost in thought, remembering the way he had first asked her out, the way he had jumped aboard the Ferris wheel (despite his fears), the way he wouldn't just leave her at Oliver's…on and on the memories flowed. Her alarm clock rang again and she stripped off the covers, dreading school.
Looking through her closet, she spotted the shirt she had worn that night (as she had taken to calling it in her mind). She had yet to toss it in the laundry. Although, it wasn't like her mom did the laundry and would question it. It was more that she couldn't bring herself to touch it. Just taking it off had been hard enough. Every brush of the cotton against her skin had brought back the feeling of Trey pushed against her. Each fiber that made contact had the rush of the ocean. It had taken four showers to rinse the feeling of sand from her hands and five to get the smell of Trey from her hair.
Night was the worse. When she wasn't conscious, he attacked her even harder than he had that night. Sometimes Ryan was there to save her; sometimes he was egging Trey on. Not that Ryan would ever do that. The worst part was that sometimes, Ryan was the one attacking her. Ryan would never do that, never. In her heart, she knew that Ryan was the exact opposite of Trey. In daylight, she knew it in her mind. At night, however, she couldn't keep them apart.
Shaking her head, she pulled herself out of the reverie. Randomly, she picked the closest shirt and pulled it over her head. Today wasn't a day when she would try to impress anyone. Today she wouldn't go to all the trouble to look good for Ryan. Some days she tried to make it so he would barely be able to keep his hands off her. Today, she would be fine if he didn't touch her at all.
Take that back. Well, not the part about not being touched. The part about not caring. If she went as a slob, she would draw too much attention to herself. Attention she didn't need. With a sigh, she pulled out her makeup and assessed the damage.
Forty-five minutes later, she was ready to deal with her hair. For the first time, she really looked at more than her face. Her eyes traveled down to her collarbone, where the red scratches were still imminent. She had hoped that by now they would have faded. No such luck; they seemed to be even brighter. Ryan would notice them right away…how to hide them, though? As she mentally pawned through her makeup bag, the phone rang. She automatically knew who it was.
Marissa, don't hang up, okay?
Look, I told you to stop calling me.
For every time Ryan had called, Trey had called twice. There were similar on that aspect. But that's it. With one final sigh, she grabbed her bag and left for school.
