Disclaimer: I still don't own it, but I do miss it and I can't wait until the next season starts up... By the way, if you know when the new season does start, please tell me... Now, on with the story... Which, incidentally, I have no idea where I'm going with...) There's probably going to be a lot more angst in this chapter, so if you don't like angst...
-Dizzy
I'm reposting this chapter because I think I've finally found out how to fix the stupid spacing, so if it worked... Enjoy.
"I can't escape the writing on the wall" -Trapt
Chapter Two: Ryan was standing alone in a horribly familiar room...wait, no, he wasn't alone; there was a girl, her face shielded by a curtain of thick brown hair, sitting at a small table in the corner. She was writing on a piece of loose-leaf paper with a purple pen and Ryan could hear her crying. He wanted to walk over and comfort her, but she didn't seem to notice him, and he couldn't move. Just then, she looked up for a moment to wipe her tears away, and it was in that short moment that he caught to glimpse her face, Ryan recognized her; it was Janine. No, it couldn't be Janine; Janine was gone; she'd been gone for so long... Ryan tried in vain to call out to her, to reach out and wipe the tears from her cheeks, but he couldn't reach, she was too far away and no matter how loud he called her name, she didn't seem to hear.
Ryan didn't need to see the paper to know what was being written on it. He had memorized the words the first time he'd read the note two years ago. By the time he'd found the note, read it, and got to her house, it'd been too late; he'd been too late. If only he'd found it sooner, if only he'd gotten there in time, but no... no... he had been too late; he had failed.
All of the sudden, the words from the note appeared, scrawled in purple ink on the chalky white walls of the room. They spread, like a deadly virus, quickly filling every corner, every wall, every inch of space in the room. Ryan was trapped, surrounded by the written proof of his own failure. There was no escaping the words and he could hardly stand the torture. He tried to shut his eyes, to somehow block everything out, but once again, found that he was incapable. There was nothing he could do. He deserved it though; he had failed; he was a failure. She had been one of the few things that he'd loved in his life before Newport, but he'd let her slip away...
Ryan could only watch in shock as Janine sealed the note and then rose, as if she was suddenly aware of his presence. Only, it wasn't her... well, it was, but there was something different, something...off... about her. She approached him slowly, as if teasing him, as if knowing that he couldn't move. There was a cruel look in her green eyes and her mouth was twisted into a frown; there was no trace of the tears that had, only moments before, been falling. When she was finally standing next to him, she reached up and ran her long fingers through his sandy blond hair, ruffling it gently, lovingly at first, but then yanking it, hard. He would have cried out in pain if he could have, but he was still unable to make sounds; it was as if his voice box had been ripped out.
"Ryan Atwood." She hissed as she tugged on his hair. "Look what you did to me. You killed me Ry! I though you loved me! I loved you Ry, and you didn't feel the same way." She let go of his hair and stepped back, tears glistening in her eyes once again, replacing the cruelty that had been there before. He tried to respond, half expecting nothing to come out, but this time, he was able to speak.
"What? Janine, I did... I do love you. I didn't kill you! suicide...two years ago... exactly two years ago." He whispered, nearly breaking down and crying himself. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he could only speak, he couldn't move. "You wrote me a note and put it on my bed. I found it when I got home that night. I swear, as soon as I read it, I rushed over to your house... I tried to stop you, but it was too late... Janine, you overdosed on heroin... your dad's supply. I found you... in the bathroom... Shit, you were blue... I called an ambulance and tried CPA, but it didn't work... Janine, you didn't only kill yourself, you killed the baby too. Your baby, my baby, our baby. She didn't even get a chance to live."
"Shut up!" Janine screamed at him. She slapped him across the face; the cruel gleam was back in her eyes. "I would never have done it if you hadn't made me! Then, after I had shot up, you didn't even try to save me! Why didn't you save me Ry? It's all your fault! You could have stopped me! We would have been happy together, you, Tory, and me! How could you let me down like this Ry?" Words he'd never wanted to hear began to echo in his head and he could stand it anymore. His cheek stung where she had slapped him, but he knew he deserved it. If he had only come home sooner, if he had only tried harder... It was his fault that Janine was dead; it was his fault that Victoria Marie Atwood, his unborn child had died with her. He and Janine had been two fifteen-year-old kids in love, soul mates she would say when they were alone. He hadn't meant to get her pregnant; in fact, he'd only learned about the existence of a baby from the note, her suicide note. Five months along it said, a girl, Victoria Marie Atwood. Before the baby was born, they would both be sixteen; they could've handled it. His mom had only been fifteen when Trey was born and Janine was a much better person than his mother was. Ryan was snapped out of his thoughts by Janine's choking; she was turning blue. She was dying again and he could do anything about it. He was a failure; he'd failed her yet again...
"Ryan! Ryan wake up!" Seth shouted urgently, shaking his foster brother. Ryan was trapped in the confines of another nightmare. Seth was the only one who knew about them and Ryan had sworn him to secrecy. He had walked into the pool house only to find Ryan struggling on the bed, his legs wrapped in the sheets. He was crying out for someone, no, for two people: Janine and Tory. Seth didn't understand what was going on and he was worried, so he'd immediately tried to rouse Ryan. All of the sudden, the shorter boy's bright blue eyes shot open and his hand immediately shot to Seth's throat, as if to strangle him. Two seconds passed before Ryan realized whom it was that he had in a choke hold, and let go. Seth took a quick step back, massaging his throat in shock. Ryan took a deep breath.
"Sorry about that man. You startled me." He tried. Seth looked skeptical.
"Is that how you've always reacted when someone startles you? What's wrong Ry?" Seth responded. At the sound of his name, the blond boy glanced up, his gaze icy.
"Don't call me Ry." He hissed before standing quickly and disappearing into the bathroom. Seth just stood in the middle on the pool house for several moments, pondering what his brother could possibly have been dreaming about. Maybe he could break his promise, just this one time. His dad would know what to do. Sandy Cohen always knew what to do.
A/N: Hope you liked it. Just for the record, if you're wondering what's up with the "Don't call me Ry" thing, go back up to where Janine was talking to him and see what usually she calls him... Sorry I took so long to update... Anyway, you know that you want to hit that cute little review button at the bottom. I want everything except flames please... Comments: did you like it... what could I have done better... was it confusing... any ideas for where I should go with this story... Anything like that... (
-Dizzy
-Dizzy
I'm reposting this chapter because I think I've finally found out how to fix the stupid spacing, so if it worked... Enjoy.
"I can't escape the writing on the wall" -Trapt
Chapter Two: Ryan was standing alone in a horribly familiar room...wait, no, he wasn't alone; there was a girl, her face shielded by a curtain of thick brown hair, sitting at a small table in the corner. She was writing on a piece of loose-leaf paper with a purple pen and Ryan could hear her crying. He wanted to walk over and comfort her, but she didn't seem to notice him, and he couldn't move. Just then, she looked up for a moment to wipe her tears away, and it was in that short moment that he caught to glimpse her face, Ryan recognized her; it was Janine. No, it couldn't be Janine; Janine was gone; she'd been gone for so long... Ryan tried in vain to call out to her, to reach out and wipe the tears from her cheeks, but he couldn't reach, she was too far away and no matter how loud he called her name, she didn't seem to hear.
Ryan didn't need to see the paper to know what was being written on it. He had memorized the words the first time he'd read the note two years ago. By the time he'd found the note, read it, and got to her house, it'd been too late; he'd been too late. If only he'd found it sooner, if only he'd gotten there in time, but no... no... he had been too late; he had failed.
All of the sudden, the words from the note appeared, scrawled in purple ink on the chalky white walls of the room. They spread, like a deadly virus, quickly filling every corner, every wall, every inch of space in the room. Ryan was trapped, surrounded by the written proof of his own failure. There was no escaping the words and he could hardly stand the torture. He tried to shut his eyes, to somehow block everything out, but once again, found that he was incapable. There was nothing he could do. He deserved it though; he had failed; he was a failure. She had been one of the few things that he'd loved in his life before Newport, but he'd let her slip away...
Ryan could only watch in shock as Janine sealed the note and then rose, as if she was suddenly aware of his presence. Only, it wasn't her... well, it was, but there was something different, something...off... about her. She approached him slowly, as if teasing him, as if knowing that he couldn't move. There was a cruel look in her green eyes and her mouth was twisted into a frown; there was no trace of the tears that had, only moments before, been falling. When she was finally standing next to him, she reached up and ran her long fingers through his sandy blond hair, ruffling it gently, lovingly at first, but then yanking it, hard. He would have cried out in pain if he could have, but he was still unable to make sounds; it was as if his voice box had been ripped out.
"Ryan Atwood." She hissed as she tugged on his hair. "Look what you did to me. You killed me Ry! I though you loved me! I loved you Ry, and you didn't feel the same way." She let go of his hair and stepped back, tears glistening in her eyes once again, replacing the cruelty that had been there before. He tried to respond, half expecting nothing to come out, but this time, he was able to speak.
"What? Janine, I did... I do love you. I didn't kill you! suicide...two years ago... exactly two years ago." He whispered, nearly breaking down and crying himself. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he could only speak, he couldn't move. "You wrote me a note and put it on my bed. I found it when I got home that night. I swear, as soon as I read it, I rushed over to your house... I tried to stop you, but it was too late... Janine, you overdosed on heroin... your dad's supply. I found you... in the bathroom... Shit, you were blue... I called an ambulance and tried CPA, but it didn't work... Janine, you didn't only kill yourself, you killed the baby too. Your baby, my baby, our baby. She didn't even get a chance to live."
"Shut up!" Janine screamed at him. She slapped him across the face; the cruel gleam was back in her eyes. "I would never have done it if you hadn't made me! Then, after I had shot up, you didn't even try to save me! Why didn't you save me Ry? It's all your fault! You could have stopped me! We would have been happy together, you, Tory, and me! How could you let me down like this Ry?" Words he'd never wanted to hear began to echo in his head and he could stand it anymore. His cheek stung where she had slapped him, but he knew he deserved it. If he had only come home sooner, if he had only tried harder... It was his fault that Janine was dead; it was his fault that Victoria Marie Atwood, his unborn child had died with her. He and Janine had been two fifteen-year-old kids in love, soul mates she would say when they were alone. He hadn't meant to get her pregnant; in fact, he'd only learned about the existence of a baby from the note, her suicide note. Five months along it said, a girl, Victoria Marie Atwood. Before the baby was born, they would both be sixteen; they could've handled it. His mom had only been fifteen when Trey was born and Janine was a much better person than his mother was. Ryan was snapped out of his thoughts by Janine's choking; she was turning blue. She was dying again and he could do anything about it. He was a failure; he'd failed her yet again...
"Ryan! Ryan wake up!" Seth shouted urgently, shaking his foster brother. Ryan was trapped in the confines of another nightmare. Seth was the only one who knew about them and Ryan had sworn him to secrecy. He had walked into the pool house only to find Ryan struggling on the bed, his legs wrapped in the sheets. He was crying out for someone, no, for two people: Janine and Tory. Seth didn't understand what was going on and he was worried, so he'd immediately tried to rouse Ryan. All of the sudden, the shorter boy's bright blue eyes shot open and his hand immediately shot to Seth's throat, as if to strangle him. Two seconds passed before Ryan realized whom it was that he had in a choke hold, and let go. Seth took a quick step back, massaging his throat in shock. Ryan took a deep breath.
"Sorry about that man. You startled me." He tried. Seth looked skeptical.
"Is that how you've always reacted when someone startles you? What's wrong Ry?" Seth responded. At the sound of his name, the blond boy glanced up, his gaze icy.
"Don't call me Ry." He hissed before standing quickly and disappearing into the bathroom. Seth just stood in the middle on the pool house for several moments, pondering what his brother could possibly have been dreaming about. Maybe he could break his promise, just this one time. His dad would know what to do. Sandy Cohen always knew what to do.
A/N: Hope you liked it. Just for the record, if you're wondering what's up with the "Don't call me Ry" thing, go back up to where Janine was talking to him and see what usually she calls him... Sorry I took so long to update... Anyway, you know that you want to hit that cute little review button at the bottom. I want everything except flames please... Comments: did you like it... what could I have done better... was it confusing... any ideas for where I should go with this story... Anything like that... (
-Dizzy