A/N - Thank-you so much for all of your kind reviews. I'll try to uphold my end of the bargain. Here's Chapter 2, all from Ryan's POV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2

Ryan

-The Ocean-

I briefly listen to Kirsten engage in an instant argument when she answers the phone - the call obviously work related as she starts spouting off deadlines and contractual arrangements.

I try to slide out undetected, not bothering to turn around to see if I had done so successfully. Once outside, I glance upwards, noting that the sky is uncharacteristically dark, creating an eerie atmosphere. That, along with the pressure that's causing my head to pound a little harder with its building force, would have me assume that rain is on its way.

Wandering into the pool house, I push myself past the bed, which still looks inviting despite the bareness of the mattress. I've slept enough in the past twenty-four hours; I can't hide from my life in sleep any longer. A strong, cool breeze makes its way in from the door in which I had entered, causing a shiver to run through my entire body. I run my hands over my face and over the back of my neck, trying to rub away the achy feeling that's inhabiting my muscles.

Wandering into the bathroom and shutting the door, I turn on the shower, stripping off my clothes as I wait for the water to reach the desired warmth. I step under the heavy stream of liquid, the scorching temperature is shocking at first as it adds to the burning sensation on my chest, but eventually, it soothes my cramping muscles into a more pliant state - easing the majority of the tension. I close my eyes and allow the water to cascade off my face.

Has my blatant overreaction pushed Kirsten over the edge? I don't know how encouraged I'd feel if a kid that I had sacrificed for and given the perfect life, had reacted to my presence in such a way. She must think that I am the most ungrateful charity case. I wouldn't be surprised if this is the straw that breaks the camel's back.

There's always the option of running. If I run, I have no one - and though that may sound like a bad thing, having no one to report to means that there is no one to disappoint. The thought of being nameless and untraceable is strangely appealing. That's sort of how it was in Chino. Though people knew who I was, no one was hurt or insulted if I did or said the wrong thing. I paid for it with a punch or some other form of physical punishment, and that I can handle. Once it's done, it's done. But here, it's often hard to draw the line between right and wrong. Nothing's black and white and there's this foggy boundary that separates good from evil. I can't figure it out, and I'm not sure I ever will.

They always claim they want me to talk - that they want to know what's going on in my head. No, they don't. They think they do, but they don't. They have to trust the fact that I need to keep my thoughts to myself. Knowing would only scare them, and the last thing I need to do is scare them more than I already have.

So, the question is, do I wait for them to take care of this, or do I take matters into my own hands - make it easier for all involved? If only I could remember the countless times I have pondered the concept of taking off since I first arrived here, but no matter how right it seems at the time, and how hopeless the situation, I always end up staying. One of these days though, I'm going to wear out my welcome. I mean, surely the Cohens must abide by the timeless American tradition of 'three strikes - you're out'. I haven't been keeping count but I'm pretty sure that I've been striking out left, right and center. I'm almost positive that I've used all of my 'get out of jail free' cards - literally. There's only so much they are going to put up with, and I feel like after this morning, I'm nearing my end as a member of the Cohen family.

The water is losing its warmth, and I realize that I have been in shower for far too long. Stepping out, I halfheartedly dry off and wrap the towel around my waist. As I open the door, a piece of paper flutters through the air and lands by my feet. I reach down to pick it up, reading it silently:

Ryan,

Crisis at the office. I had to go in.

Call me if you need anything at all.

I should be back in a few hours.

I'll call you before then to check up.

-Kirsten.

I toss the note on my bed as I begin to dress. I can't help but wonder if I've now managed to drive her out of her own house. The note should probably read, "Crisis at the Cohen household."

I sit on the bed fully dressed; the silence that fills the room is deafening, causing my incessant thoughts to echo violently through my head. Closing my eyes, I try to force internal quietness with no success.

There's nothing I want more than to just fit in with this wonderful family - to blend into the knit of their cloth - but as time goes on, I realize that that's somewhat of an unreasonable goal. My wishful thinking isn't going to make this happen. I could have hurt her today. It was just luck that I connected with the mug, but I realize that it could have easily gone down drastically differently. Just thinking about it makes me want to scream. I want to yell at the top of my lungs because I can't make the only good thing that's ever happened to me, make sense. If I can't make it work, and they can't make it work, it's never going to get any better. So do I just ride out these last couple years, praying they don't decide that my time is up, or do I just end it now before I completely pull them apart?

After several minutes, it becomes clear that I just can't be alone with my mind right now. I slide on my shoes and walk outside, hoping to leave my haunting thoughts behind in the poolhouse.

I stroll down the private path that leads to the beach; the sandy shore is empty with the exception of a few stray seagulls who are ravenously hunting for their dinner. I allow my body to crumple to the soft ground and stare at the dark sky - the clouds traveling rapidly as they hitch a ride with the galling wind. The only sound that can be determined is the soothing crash and fall of the large waves. I listen carefully to the pattern, letting it envelop my mind with comforting rhythm

There's something captivating about the endless stretch of ocean and sky as they combine to form brilliant sea of blue, but today, it's like I'm looking at the familiar scene through a clouded lens. A dark shade of grey represents the horizon with a depiction of depression.

Keeping my eyes on the brewing storm in the distance, I rake my hands slowly through the soft sand, picking up handfuls and letting the tiny particles sift slowly through my fingers like I used to do as a child. Oddly, this particular connection to my childhood is somewhat comforting - not a claim I can often make. I used to fantasize about floating away, deep into the ocean. I realize that others are frightened by the idea of being lost at sea, but when I was growing up, I found it alluring. Like just coming here, so I could daydream about such ridiculous concepts, was an escape from the harsh reality of my life.

I remember taking solace in knowing that in time, I wouldn't have to rely on the deep blue abyss for comfort - eventually, things would turn around and I would simply be happy like all the other children laughing and splashing in the rolling tide. I was young, I wasn't realistic. I believed my mother when she told me everything was going to be alright, good, different - she changed her words every time. But nothing ever changed, it only snowballed until her life - and ultimately, my life - spiraled out of control. She crashed her way through motherhood, and I just tried to steer clear of her destructive course.

Though I try to forget and block out the majority of my younger years, there are certain things, certain lessons, that stay with you through life - lessons that are beaten in to make you who you are. Things like 'dreams are imagined, be realistic', and 'if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all'. Maybe I should run that one by Seth.

I am often amused at how Seth can spend so much time talking about something that can be effectively covered in one sentence. He's so absorbed in such trivial, inconsequential issues, it makes me wonder if he even knows there are some very disturbing things out there. I can't be like Seth, he only sees what's good and doesn't see all the potential disasters that can result. It's like he's been protected from the reality of life's consequences - all these Newport kids have - but I don't hold it against them. Eventually though, they're going to say or do something that's going to be thrown back at them with such incredible force, it will destroy them. It makes me think that these parents aren't doing their kids any favors by protecting them from the real world. Then again, most of them will never even have to face the trials of the real world, inheriting Daddy - or Grandpa's - company. I wonder, if I had been born into this bubble, would I be equally naïve? I guess I'll never know.

I've been shaped into who I am, and nothing's going to change that. No matter how many parties, galas and balls I attend, I will always be the kid from the outside - the kid who knows about the outside. That's definitely something that Sandy and Kirsten will never understand. They continually try to make me - make our relationship - something it's not. I know what I know, and I have felt how hard life can come down on you. You have to be ready for the next inevitable disaster. I won't allow myself to be caught with my guard down. I have to be ready.

The sharp crack of thunder in the distance abbreviates my thoughts. I sigh, lowering myself backwards until all I can see is the blackened sky above me. The warmth radiating upwards from the sand is sharply contradicted by the cold breeze that is rolling in off the ocean at a furious pace, causing my body to shiver deeply.

Wrapping my arms tightly around my chest and closing my eyes, I go back a few years and fantasize about the glory of drifting off into the ocean - having the waves take me deep out into the sea and allowing the cold water to numb my tired mind.

TBC.