Author's Note: The Marissa scenes take place when Ryan, Seth and Kirsten were on the plane. Dark chapter. Drugs. Sex. You have been warned.
Marissa clambered around the hotel room over and over again. Wildly, she tossed all of her belongings onto the floor. Her hands groped the bottom of her suitcase. She flung her purse across the room. Tearing the bed sheets of the mattress, she turned the mattress over. When she still could not find what she was looking for, she checked the bathroom again. Opening every cabinet and even opening the tank of the toilet, she got angrier and more frustrated each time she saw an empty nook or cranny. She swore she had a few extra grams hidden somewhere.
Fuck you Summer. You had no right to toss all that coke into the toilet. There's nothing now. I'm nothing now.
Embarrassment flooded through Marissa. The heinous words she just thought towards Summer came from a dark place within her. Summer was her best friend. It wasn't like they were in fifth grade anymore and those words were used to define their status above the other girls, it was to the deepest extreme of what the two words meant. Best. Better than good, to the extreme of excellence. Friend. Someone you cared for deeply and who cared for you, always wanting the best for each other, of each other. Marissa was a failure.
Failure. Couldn't keep Luke. Couldn't save her parents marriage. Couldn't help her father and his business. Couldn't see that Oliver was psycho. Couldn't make it work with Ryan. Couldn't be a good enough sister to Caitlyn.
Couldn't be a best friend.
Summer wasn't her best friend anymore. Summer didn't want the best for her anymore. The best thing for Marissa was that heavenly white powder. Seeking its way up her nostril and into her system. The best thing for Marissa was the thick fiery taste of Vodka afterwards. The best thing for Marissa was to go find that guy again. The one that let her snort as much coke was she wanted as long as she did what he wanted. As long as she lifted up her skirt, lay down and stayed very, very quiet.
She had to find him again. White powder. God's gift to boyfriend-less, best friend-less, divorced children. Marissa took off her tank top- still stained with the drinks she spilled on herself the night before. Pulling a halter top off the floor, she changed quickly, not bothering to look in the mirror anymore. The top was revealing enough, she could feel the fabric on her skin, she didn't need to see. She didn't want to see. The girl in the mirror had sunken cheeks, pale ghost like skin and a deep darkness in her eyes.
That girl made part of Marissa sick.
It made the other part cackle in a hollow imitation of a laugh.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
XXX
Jacob had yet to go to sleep and it was almost six in the morning. He had been too busy making money to sleep. In his little hole of an apartment, the kitchen cabinets lacked any form of kitchenware. Within the hollow cabins lay plastic bins filled with little baggies. Everything from marijuana to ecstasy was there. Everything in between too. Jacob was a good dealer though, he didn't force anyone to buy. He never asked for new clients, he had enough. But the bartenders knew him well and they pushed for him. Vacationing teens, businessmen with cheating wives, wives with abusive husbands- everyone was recommended the same solution. Go see my man Jacob. He can give you something to make it all go away. Last night some bartender or the other from the Upper East Side sent him a pretty little thing. There was no way in hell that she was over twenty one, but he gave her some coke anyway. She paid him back though. Oh yes. That young supple body. So soft. So tight. If she hadn't said otherwise, he was sure he popped her cherry. Yes, that was beautiful. He gave her the coke for free because of that, though he knew she had more than enough to pay. The Victoria Secret panties on his floor said more than enough about where she came from. So did the Chanel bag she carried.
Rich little tight bitch.
He licked his lips. Couldn't wait to see that one again.
As he thought of more things to do to her little body, there was a knocking on the door.
"Jacob. I was here last night. Marissa. I need more-"Jacob opened the door. So maybe there was a God. Standing if front of his six foot frame was a skinny little rich girl. She looked good enough to eat. And she better believe that she wasn't in Kansas anymore.
"Baby, come on in. Have a bit." He moved his arm in a mock grand gesture, letting her in. She didn't look as good as she did the last time she came. Her hair was all over the place, looking just as greasy as the hookers he dealt to. And her skin didn't have that youthful glow he enjoyed so much. In fact, she didn't look so good at all.
"I need some more coke." She said urgently, taking a step forward and looking him straight in the eye. God this kid had balls. Metaphorically, only of course.
"You're underage." He stated, without any emotion, even though he could feel the stirring in his groin. She didn't look as good as last time, but she was still the best looking girl to walk into his place. Not to mention that he could all but smell the wealth that radiated from her.
"Please." She said, biting her lip. Moving her weight slightly forward, her chest just grazed his. Her eyes wide, they pleaded with him for just a few grams. A few grams to make the Princess of Newport feel like a queen.
"Okay. But you're paying first." He whispered gruffly, leaning his head closer and closer to hers. She tilted her head ever so slightly backwards and in the brief moment that his lips were still feather-light on hers, she saw Ryan. His kisses so soft and gentle, warm and loving on her accepting lips. The moment was gone before it began as Jacob began to jab his tongue into her mouth. Ouch.
His hands tore at the skirt she had on, it was the same one she wore earlier. This time though he didn't take the time to push it upwards to comfort her need to still be clothed. That time she thought she still had dignity. Now, she had nothing- meaning she had nothing to lose. She didn't care that the rough denim of her skirt was now bunched at her calves. She didn't care that his nails were sharp and his hands callused as they grabbed at soft flesh. She didn't care that he was inside her- in and out, rough and violent. She didn't care. She didn't care. She didn't care.
One of his hands grabbed hold of her ass as the other tugged furiously at her long hair. His lips were still on her mouth, parted, tasting smoky and dirty. Finally, he let out a low moan and slammed himself into her one more time. She screamed- he took it for pleasure, she knew it was pain.
When he let her put her clothes back on, he cut up some of her coveted powder with a credit card. Without a word he offered it to her, she snorted it- all of it- in less time than he had taken to set it up. She asked for more and he gave. It, too, was gone in the blink of an eye.
She left.
Pupils dilated.
Feeling like she was on clouds.
Or in sewers.
Or caught up by a giant wave and dragged through the ocean back to Newport.
Hazy.
Cold. Cold. Sweat?
New. York.
Taxis. Traffic. Sunlight. Too bright. Burning into her eyes.
Numb. Astonished.
Laughing. Cold and hollow.
Ryan. Summer. Holly. Luke. Dad. Mom. Caleb? Kirsten. Faces glistening on the ground.
Faces coming closer. Closer. Darkness.
Thud.
XXX
Seth held onto Summer tightly. He didn't let go until she nestled into the seat next to him. She cried and cried. Sometimes she mumbled, but mostly she just cried. Seth stroked her hair in an effort to hush her cries and it seemed to work. Until he realized that it only made her sob more quietly, knowing that he wanted her to stop.
"Okay, Sum, you've got to stop for awhile and talk." He whispered. "I can't help if you don't stop."
"Cohen, you're such an idiot!" she managed to say between sobs. Then in their classic Seth and Summer way of showing emotion, she nudged him roughly in the ribs.
"I promise I'll help."
Tears stained his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice anymore. In fact he wasn't feeling the sweat that had formed on his back from Summer's warm body being pressed on his. He didn't notice the police officers who entered the lobby.
"Marissa..." It was the only word that escaped through Summer's throat before she began convulsing in sobs all over again. She, too, had been contemplating the meaning of a best friend. And she had failed Marissa. In the moments when her best friend needed her the most, needed someone to care for her, to make her feel loved- Summer had been pining away for the Cohen that sailed away. She knew Marissa was somewhere dangerous now. Somewhere getting a hold of more drugs. Somewhere possibly killing herself.
And the only thing Summer could do was weep.
"Marissa? Cooper?" Seth asked dully, knowing the answer but still searching for words to help out Summer. "Where is she?" He knew he wasn't being helpful, but he needed to get Summer to talk in order to make her stop crying.
"In the hospital." The voice wasn't Summer's. The two teens turned to see who had supplied their answer. It was a police officer.
XXX
In a hospital in Atlanta, Kirsten was conversing with Theresa's doctors. They said that the bruising would soon disappear and she was very fortunate to not have any internal bleeding. They said that the cast was all that was needed to mend her wrist. They said simple physical therapy- perhaps only twice a week- would heal her knee completely. Kirsten swallowed the information like it was a glass of Cristal champagne. Comforting and delightful were the doctor's words.
As she made her way back to Theresa's room, her purse began to vibrate and squeal. Opening it and digging out her cell phone, she quickly answered: "Kirsten Cohen."
"Honey, are you okay? How's Theresa?" It was Sandy, who only hours ago had yelled at her for even suggesting the ludicrous idea of traveling cross- country to see a girl she barely knew. Now his voice was wrapped in butter and honey. Caring and sweet- the Sandy that Kirsten loved.
"She's good. She looks awful but the doctor's say the bruising will go soon enough. Seth's still in New York, have you talked to him? How are you?" The ever forgiving wife, she decided not to bombard him with reasons why she was right to go.
"Haven't talked to him. I've been in court all day- this case is insane. I just wanted to make sure you're alright." With a little thought, he added in a small voice "I miss you, honey."
"I miss you too. I'll be home soon. Promise." She smiled into her phone.
"Good. Okay, I've got to go. Bye." The line went dead. Kirsten still smiled at the blank door in front of her. Her relationship with Sandy was going to be just fine. And smiling even wider, she remembered the doctor's words. Feeling as though she had just found the silver lining to Theresa's dark, dull, gray cloud, she opened the door to Theresa's room.
It was empty.
Marissa clambered around the hotel room over and over again. Wildly, she tossed all of her belongings onto the floor. Her hands groped the bottom of her suitcase. She flung her purse across the room. Tearing the bed sheets of the mattress, she turned the mattress over. When she still could not find what she was looking for, she checked the bathroom again. Opening every cabinet and even opening the tank of the toilet, she got angrier and more frustrated each time she saw an empty nook or cranny. She swore she had a few extra grams hidden somewhere.
Fuck you Summer. You had no right to toss all that coke into the toilet. There's nothing now. I'm nothing now.
Embarrassment flooded through Marissa. The heinous words she just thought towards Summer came from a dark place within her. Summer was her best friend. It wasn't like they were in fifth grade anymore and those words were used to define their status above the other girls, it was to the deepest extreme of what the two words meant. Best. Better than good, to the extreme of excellence. Friend. Someone you cared for deeply and who cared for you, always wanting the best for each other, of each other. Marissa was a failure.
Failure. Couldn't keep Luke. Couldn't save her parents marriage. Couldn't help her father and his business. Couldn't see that Oliver was psycho. Couldn't make it work with Ryan. Couldn't be a good enough sister to Caitlyn.
Couldn't be a best friend.
Summer wasn't her best friend anymore. Summer didn't want the best for her anymore. The best thing for Marissa was that heavenly white powder. Seeking its way up her nostril and into her system. The best thing for Marissa was the thick fiery taste of Vodka afterwards. The best thing for Marissa was to go find that guy again. The one that let her snort as much coke was she wanted as long as she did what he wanted. As long as she lifted up her skirt, lay down and stayed very, very quiet.
She had to find him again. White powder. God's gift to boyfriend-less, best friend-less, divorced children. Marissa took off her tank top- still stained with the drinks she spilled on herself the night before. Pulling a halter top off the floor, she changed quickly, not bothering to look in the mirror anymore. The top was revealing enough, she could feel the fabric on her skin, she didn't need to see. She didn't want to see. The girl in the mirror had sunken cheeks, pale ghost like skin and a deep darkness in her eyes.
That girl made part of Marissa sick.
It made the other part cackle in a hollow imitation of a laugh.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
XXX
Jacob had yet to go to sleep and it was almost six in the morning. He had been too busy making money to sleep. In his little hole of an apartment, the kitchen cabinets lacked any form of kitchenware. Within the hollow cabins lay plastic bins filled with little baggies. Everything from marijuana to ecstasy was there. Everything in between too. Jacob was a good dealer though, he didn't force anyone to buy. He never asked for new clients, he had enough. But the bartenders knew him well and they pushed for him. Vacationing teens, businessmen with cheating wives, wives with abusive husbands- everyone was recommended the same solution. Go see my man Jacob. He can give you something to make it all go away. Last night some bartender or the other from the Upper East Side sent him a pretty little thing. There was no way in hell that she was over twenty one, but he gave her some coke anyway. She paid him back though. Oh yes. That young supple body. So soft. So tight. If she hadn't said otherwise, he was sure he popped her cherry. Yes, that was beautiful. He gave her the coke for free because of that, though he knew she had more than enough to pay. The Victoria Secret panties on his floor said more than enough about where she came from. So did the Chanel bag she carried.
Rich little tight bitch.
He licked his lips. Couldn't wait to see that one again.
As he thought of more things to do to her little body, there was a knocking on the door.
"Jacob. I was here last night. Marissa. I need more-"Jacob opened the door. So maybe there was a God. Standing if front of his six foot frame was a skinny little rich girl. She looked good enough to eat. And she better believe that she wasn't in Kansas anymore.
"Baby, come on in. Have a bit." He moved his arm in a mock grand gesture, letting her in. She didn't look as good as she did the last time she came. Her hair was all over the place, looking just as greasy as the hookers he dealt to. And her skin didn't have that youthful glow he enjoyed so much. In fact, she didn't look so good at all.
"I need some more coke." She said urgently, taking a step forward and looking him straight in the eye. God this kid had balls. Metaphorically, only of course.
"You're underage." He stated, without any emotion, even though he could feel the stirring in his groin. She didn't look as good as last time, but she was still the best looking girl to walk into his place. Not to mention that he could all but smell the wealth that radiated from her.
"Please." She said, biting her lip. Moving her weight slightly forward, her chest just grazed his. Her eyes wide, they pleaded with him for just a few grams. A few grams to make the Princess of Newport feel like a queen.
"Okay. But you're paying first." He whispered gruffly, leaning his head closer and closer to hers. She tilted her head ever so slightly backwards and in the brief moment that his lips were still feather-light on hers, she saw Ryan. His kisses so soft and gentle, warm and loving on her accepting lips. The moment was gone before it began as Jacob began to jab his tongue into her mouth. Ouch.
His hands tore at the skirt she had on, it was the same one she wore earlier. This time though he didn't take the time to push it upwards to comfort her need to still be clothed. That time she thought she still had dignity. Now, she had nothing- meaning she had nothing to lose. She didn't care that the rough denim of her skirt was now bunched at her calves. She didn't care that his nails were sharp and his hands callused as they grabbed at soft flesh. She didn't care that he was inside her- in and out, rough and violent. She didn't care. She didn't care. She didn't care.
One of his hands grabbed hold of her ass as the other tugged furiously at her long hair. His lips were still on her mouth, parted, tasting smoky and dirty. Finally, he let out a low moan and slammed himself into her one more time. She screamed- he took it for pleasure, she knew it was pain.
When he let her put her clothes back on, he cut up some of her coveted powder with a credit card. Without a word he offered it to her, she snorted it- all of it- in less time than he had taken to set it up. She asked for more and he gave. It, too, was gone in the blink of an eye.
She left.
Pupils dilated.
Feeling like she was on clouds.
Or in sewers.
Or caught up by a giant wave and dragged through the ocean back to Newport.
Hazy.
Cold. Cold. Sweat?
New. York.
Taxis. Traffic. Sunlight. Too bright. Burning into her eyes.
Numb. Astonished.
Laughing. Cold and hollow.
Ryan. Summer. Holly. Luke. Dad. Mom. Caleb? Kirsten. Faces glistening on the ground.
Faces coming closer. Closer. Darkness.
Thud.
XXX
Seth held onto Summer tightly. He didn't let go until she nestled into the seat next to him. She cried and cried. Sometimes she mumbled, but mostly she just cried. Seth stroked her hair in an effort to hush her cries and it seemed to work. Until he realized that it only made her sob more quietly, knowing that he wanted her to stop.
"Okay, Sum, you've got to stop for awhile and talk." He whispered. "I can't help if you don't stop."
"Cohen, you're such an idiot!" she managed to say between sobs. Then in their classic Seth and Summer way of showing emotion, she nudged him roughly in the ribs.
"I promise I'll help."
Tears stained his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice anymore. In fact he wasn't feeling the sweat that had formed on his back from Summer's warm body being pressed on his. He didn't notice the police officers who entered the lobby.
"Marissa..." It was the only word that escaped through Summer's throat before she began convulsing in sobs all over again. She, too, had been contemplating the meaning of a best friend. And she had failed Marissa. In the moments when her best friend needed her the most, needed someone to care for her, to make her feel loved- Summer had been pining away for the Cohen that sailed away. She knew Marissa was somewhere dangerous now. Somewhere getting a hold of more drugs. Somewhere possibly killing herself.
And the only thing Summer could do was weep.
"Marissa? Cooper?" Seth asked dully, knowing the answer but still searching for words to help out Summer. "Where is she?" He knew he wasn't being helpful, but he needed to get Summer to talk in order to make her stop crying.
"In the hospital." The voice wasn't Summer's. The two teens turned to see who had supplied their answer. It was a police officer.
XXX
In a hospital in Atlanta, Kirsten was conversing with Theresa's doctors. They said that the bruising would soon disappear and she was very fortunate to not have any internal bleeding. They said that the cast was all that was needed to mend her wrist. They said simple physical therapy- perhaps only twice a week- would heal her knee completely. Kirsten swallowed the information like it was a glass of Cristal champagne. Comforting and delightful were the doctor's words.
As she made her way back to Theresa's room, her purse began to vibrate and squeal. Opening it and digging out her cell phone, she quickly answered: "Kirsten Cohen."
"Honey, are you okay? How's Theresa?" It was Sandy, who only hours ago had yelled at her for even suggesting the ludicrous idea of traveling cross- country to see a girl she barely knew. Now his voice was wrapped in butter and honey. Caring and sweet- the Sandy that Kirsten loved.
"She's good. She looks awful but the doctor's say the bruising will go soon enough. Seth's still in New York, have you talked to him? How are you?" The ever forgiving wife, she decided not to bombard him with reasons why she was right to go.
"Haven't talked to him. I've been in court all day- this case is insane. I just wanted to make sure you're alright." With a little thought, he added in a small voice "I miss you, honey."
"I miss you too. I'll be home soon. Promise." She smiled into her phone.
"Good. Okay, I've got to go. Bye." The line went dead. Kirsten still smiled at the blank door in front of her. Her relationship with Sandy was going to be just fine. And smiling even wider, she remembered the doctor's words. Feeling as though she had just found the silver lining to Theresa's dark, dull, gray cloud, she opened the door to Theresa's room.
It was empty.