I remember the one thought that had first flashed through my mind when we found her in the alley. "Oh God, I'm too late." I remember hiding my face in Seth's shirt, unwilling to face the fact that I'd failed her. She's my best friend and I wasn't there for her, I wasn't there. I remember turning around, clutching to Seth as though, through my manic grip on him, Marissa wouldn't be unconscious, having downed God only knows how many painkillers.
Ryan for some reason was the only reason I didn't lose it, the look on his face was just so 'cheesy' for some reason. Yeah, I know, my best friend almost killed herself and I was thinking of cheesy facial expressions. But we all have to do something in extreme stress, otherwise we lose it, like Marissa did. The details after that were somewhat hazy. I remember rushing to a hospital in TJ, one of the better one's there. Seth and Ryan refused to take her into the first hospital we came across. It was run down, dirty, a long line of injured people stood around, groaning in pain. They couldn't take her to that place. So we ran on, coming across a cleaner hospital. Ryan still didn't want to take her there, but I saw Marissa's blue lips, her pale face and I knew we couldn't wait, that she needed help now, RIGHT NOW.
I'd forced them to go in, and to our luck there wasn't much of a line. It was a private hospital that most of the citizens of TJ couldn't afford. They whisked Marissa away, the Gurney wheels squeaking on the cracked ceramic tile as the doctors turned a corner. I let myself go after that and burst out into tears, knowing that I should have done more.
Marissa and I had known each other for years. We always tried to look out for each other. When my parents had gotten divorced, she'd held me, trying to make the pain go away. I knew what she was going through tonight, God I knew it too well. She was lucky in a sense, that she did miss out on the fighting. That was the worst part. When I was going through it, I'd sneak over to Marissa's house, going to her room to cry on a shoulder I always knew would be there.
That's what I love about Marissa, that she's so willing to take on someone else's pain as her own if she thinks it would help in even the slightest bit. But it also made her so vulnerable. So many people used her. Luke, her parents, her sister, Holly and even Ryan in a way. I'd tried to teach her how to shield herself from the hurt over the years. I couldn't stand to see her being walked on. I taught her the only way I knew how. Shut yourself off from the world, become a bitch. She did sometimes, but it wasn't in her I could tell. She was born with her heart on her sleeve and no amount of covering on her part could change that. That's why she drank so much, so she wouldn't feel. I worried about that, especially at first. But it was the only thing she had to cope with, and who was I to say no? Look where it got me. Look where it got Marissa.
I did my best, but what worked for me wouldn't work for her. I didn't know how else to help. Her dad was now in financial ruin, she was estranged from her mother and sister. Her parents were getting divorced and her boyfriend of at least five years has cheated on her the entire time. I didn't know how to handle that, not any better than she did. I'm so angry about it, so angry at those who caused it. Her dad, Jimmy, caring about his money so much, caring about his feelings while he trampled on Marissa's. How the hell could he say that he couldn't take care of them both? That's what father's are supposed to do, take care of their children. He failed.
Her mother is just a bitch, I don't think she ever really loved Marissa, not like a mother should. She was too busy with society, and trying to shape her daughters to be respectable, to not embarrass her. Luke and Holly belong together in Hell. I swear when we get back to Newport, I WILL kill them both. They were the straw that broke her, I know. And Ryan, even though he cared, even though he wanted to be with Marissa, he wanted her to do all the work. He wanted her to come down to his level so he wouldn't have to do any work. Screw them all.
The doctor came out a few hours later. He told us we got here almost too late. They'd had to pump her stomach to get rid of what was left of the painkillers, what her body hadn't already absorbed. They had her hooked up to dialysis now, to help her organs filter out the rest of the drugs left in her. They were going to Medi-vac her to Newport in the morning. We weren't allowed to see her that night, but they allowed me to ride with her in the helicopter back.
She looked so fragile, as if with one touch, she would break. I think she probably could. She had tubes sticking out of her, hooked up to different machines. I knew when she got back though, that would be her hardest trial yet.
Three weeks later, I walk into my room, at my house and stare at Marissa sleeping in my bed. She's been released, and my father said she could move in with us. The counselor that spoke with Marissa recommended that she not be around her parents for the time being. She's curled up in a fetal position, the thick comforter seems to swallow her whole. She says she's cold, even though it's early fall, in California. I think the blanket is her only barrier from the rest of the world.
I drop my school bag on the floor next to my desk and wince at the loud thunk it makes. Loud enough to wake Marissa. She's startled awake, and looks around for the sound of the noise before she sees me. And when she looks at me, I think my heart will break. She looks so lost and lonely and pitiful that I want to take her into my arms and tell her everything will be okay, that I will make everything okay for her. When she reaches her thin arms out to me, I do.
I cradle her thin frame to me, holding her as a mother would hold a newborn. And I understand how she must have felt all those years ago when she held me. I now know the desperate need to take her pain from her, to make everything better for her. To sew back together her heart that has been rent and broken. I stroke her hair and she relaxes into me, slowly drifting back to sleep. I hold her tightly in my arms and swear that somehow, I will make things all right. Because I love her, and I want her to live again.
Ryan for some reason was the only reason I didn't lose it, the look on his face was just so 'cheesy' for some reason. Yeah, I know, my best friend almost killed herself and I was thinking of cheesy facial expressions. But we all have to do something in extreme stress, otherwise we lose it, like Marissa did. The details after that were somewhat hazy. I remember rushing to a hospital in TJ, one of the better one's there. Seth and Ryan refused to take her into the first hospital we came across. It was run down, dirty, a long line of injured people stood around, groaning in pain. They couldn't take her to that place. So we ran on, coming across a cleaner hospital. Ryan still didn't want to take her there, but I saw Marissa's blue lips, her pale face and I knew we couldn't wait, that she needed help now, RIGHT NOW.
I'd forced them to go in, and to our luck there wasn't much of a line. It was a private hospital that most of the citizens of TJ couldn't afford. They whisked Marissa away, the Gurney wheels squeaking on the cracked ceramic tile as the doctors turned a corner. I let myself go after that and burst out into tears, knowing that I should have done more.
Marissa and I had known each other for years. We always tried to look out for each other. When my parents had gotten divorced, she'd held me, trying to make the pain go away. I knew what she was going through tonight, God I knew it too well. She was lucky in a sense, that she did miss out on the fighting. That was the worst part. When I was going through it, I'd sneak over to Marissa's house, going to her room to cry on a shoulder I always knew would be there.
That's what I love about Marissa, that she's so willing to take on someone else's pain as her own if she thinks it would help in even the slightest bit. But it also made her so vulnerable. So many people used her. Luke, her parents, her sister, Holly and even Ryan in a way. I'd tried to teach her how to shield herself from the hurt over the years. I couldn't stand to see her being walked on. I taught her the only way I knew how. Shut yourself off from the world, become a bitch. She did sometimes, but it wasn't in her I could tell. She was born with her heart on her sleeve and no amount of covering on her part could change that. That's why she drank so much, so she wouldn't feel. I worried about that, especially at first. But it was the only thing she had to cope with, and who was I to say no? Look where it got me. Look where it got Marissa.
I did my best, but what worked for me wouldn't work for her. I didn't know how else to help. Her dad was now in financial ruin, she was estranged from her mother and sister. Her parents were getting divorced and her boyfriend of at least five years has cheated on her the entire time. I didn't know how to handle that, not any better than she did. I'm so angry about it, so angry at those who caused it. Her dad, Jimmy, caring about his money so much, caring about his feelings while he trampled on Marissa's. How the hell could he say that he couldn't take care of them both? That's what father's are supposed to do, take care of their children. He failed.
Her mother is just a bitch, I don't think she ever really loved Marissa, not like a mother should. She was too busy with society, and trying to shape her daughters to be respectable, to not embarrass her. Luke and Holly belong together in Hell. I swear when we get back to Newport, I WILL kill them both. They were the straw that broke her, I know. And Ryan, even though he cared, even though he wanted to be with Marissa, he wanted her to do all the work. He wanted her to come down to his level so he wouldn't have to do any work. Screw them all.
The doctor came out a few hours later. He told us we got here almost too late. They'd had to pump her stomach to get rid of what was left of the painkillers, what her body hadn't already absorbed. They had her hooked up to dialysis now, to help her organs filter out the rest of the drugs left in her. They were going to Medi-vac her to Newport in the morning. We weren't allowed to see her that night, but they allowed me to ride with her in the helicopter back.
She looked so fragile, as if with one touch, she would break. I think she probably could. She had tubes sticking out of her, hooked up to different machines. I knew when she got back though, that would be her hardest trial yet.
Three weeks later, I walk into my room, at my house and stare at Marissa sleeping in my bed. She's been released, and my father said she could move in with us. The counselor that spoke with Marissa recommended that she not be around her parents for the time being. She's curled up in a fetal position, the thick comforter seems to swallow her whole. She says she's cold, even though it's early fall, in California. I think the blanket is her only barrier from the rest of the world.
I drop my school bag on the floor next to my desk and wince at the loud thunk it makes. Loud enough to wake Marissa. She's startled awake, and looks around for the sound of the noise before she sees me. And when she looks at me, I think my heart will break. She looks so lost and lonely and pitiful that I want to take her into my arms and tell her everything will be okay, that I will make everything okay for her. When she reaches her thin arms out to me, I do.
I cradle her thin frame to me, holding her as a mother would hold a newborn. And I understand how she must have felt all those years ago when she held me. I now know the desperate need to take her pain from her, to make everything better for her. To sew back together her heart that has been rent and broken. I stroke her hair and she relaxes into me, slowly drifting back to sleep. I hold her tightly in my arms and swear that somehow, I will make things all right. Because I love her, and I want her to live again.