When tragedy stikes, a certain person feels its their duty to fix a few broken lives.
Fix You
"Coop, wait!" She called. I remember, I was there. She called those two words so loudly, everybody stopped to stare. Everyone heard her, everyone except Marissa. Marissa was still humming along to her favourite song, something by the Stiff Little Fingers, closing her eyes and nodding to the beat, something that proved to be dangerous while crossing the streets.
"Coop!" Summer called again, screaming and turning her head before she caught a glimse of the horrendous sight before her. Marissa, dead at 17. Marissa, dead because she had her eyes closed, because of her stupid i-pod. Marissa, dead all because of the transport truck.
I was there, with my shaking hands trying to dial 9-1-1. Finally, my fingers dialed the last '1' and I placed the phone to my ear.
"911 what's your emergency?"
"Could you send an ambulance to the corner of 45th and watergate? Someone got hit, hurry." I rushed. I sounded so nerdy and girly and scared. I was. I still am.
I guess they did there best to send an ambulance as quickly as possible. Never the less though, they were too late. Marissa was pronounced dead at the scene.
"I'm sorry," they said. "There was nothing we could have done, she was instantly dead."
"Thats bullshit!" Summer called. "You can save her, she's still breathing! I can see her breathing!" She dropped off and collapsed into a river of tears.
I remember telling Ryan. I walked quietly into the pool-house, a Seth Cohen first. I sat down next to him on his bed while he was reading one of my new Punisher magazines.
"Whats up?" He asked, cocking his eyebrow.
I was twisting my new Death Cab shirt in my hands, something I did whenever I was nervous. I pulled my ear when I lied.
"I uh, have some bad news. You might want to sit down."
"I am sitting down, Seth. What is it?" He was getting annoyed.
"Marissa, she had some, uh, bad luck.. as in, well its not really bad luck because um, in the state that Marissa's in, you can't really have anymore bad luck because you're bad luck's typically over when uh.."
"Spit it out!" Ryan growled.
"When you're uh, dead." Seth finished quietly.
It hit him like 10 tones of bricks. He didn't believe me. Or, he didn't want to.
"Dont joke like that man." Ryan got up and started pasing the room. "You don't joke like that, not about this, don't fucking joke about this!"
"I'm sorry, dude. I was there, Im not joking. Im sorry."
"Sorry doesn't bring her back, Seth! It doesn't bring her back!" Ryan sat next to me, his head down. After a few seconds, I realized he was crying. I never saw Ryan cry before. I touched his shoulder, but he shrugged me off. It hit him hard.
Okay, I know its short and everything but I just wanted some reviews. This story is gunna be more about the blooming of an SS relationship, not Marissa's death, but thats how everything started so Im not gunna totally forget about that either. Please review!