The Art of Breaking

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own the O.C., though I wish I would.

I also don't own the song "The Art of Breaking" the lyrics and rights belong to Thousand Foot Krutch.

-2003-

Summer was winding down, the days growing shorter and my mood growing darker as the start of school was imminent. September isn't the best month for any teenager, especially when pulling a C average is next to impossible. But this year, this particular August afternoon, I was coping well, convinced that this would be the year of Molly Atwood. The year where I'd reform, get good grades, date nice boys, and make better friends- all of the above. I'd make myself something to be proud of, that I was something I didn't doubt for a second. Luckily though, it was still summer, and freedom was still in my grasp.

"Later," I said, waving over my shoulder as my friends drove away. Like any other summer day, we'd spent our time cruising around town, just enjoying the immortal feeling of being teenagers. But as I continued up the sidewalk leading to my house, I noticed a box on the front porch. As I stepped onto the porch, I sat down next to the box, pawing through it to find many of my things. What was going on? My mom couldn't be trying to throw me out again, I hadn't done anything, had I? Pulling my favorite stuffed cow out of the box, I looked underneath it, to see a torn up looking napkin underneath. Quickly, I put Mr. Moo down and retrieved the napkin, seeing the ink through the thin material. Turning it over, I slowly read the message, trying to comprehend what was going on. Everyone was gone…all of them…

They left me alone.

There must be something with me and parking lots, because somehow it's where I always seem to end up. After packing my entire life into my knapsack, I had been on my way out of Chino, before the sun could even rise in the sky. So for the past two hours, I had been stuck in this hospital parking lot, unable to force myself to go inside, but incapable to leave. As I sat, contemplating what to do, I watched the people going in, but kept the most interest in the people coming out. Some came out smiling, a bounce in their step, ready to take on the world…but most, most weren't that lucky. So many faces came out despondent, their spirits obviously crushed by one tragedy or another, and seeing this only increased by inability to go inside. How would I come out? What was I going to see if I went in, and would it change me?

My legs seemed to burn, and heart was going to burst through my chest if I didn't go in soon. It was something I had to do; there was no other choice. Bringing myself to my feet, I hesitantly stepped through the doors, wringing my hands out of nervousness. Heading to the nurse's station, I stopped, tapping my fingers on the counter. But before the nurse could turn around, I recognized a familiar head of dishwater blonde hair passing me by, not paying me a speck of attention. His blue eyes were focused on the ground, and a slight frown covered his face. Other than that, he looked good, taller, older, and maybe even wiser, if that was possible. Before I could work up the nerve to say something, he had disappeared down the hall and into a room. As I took each reluctant step, I wondered what I would say if my vocal chords stopped denying me. What would be appropriate? What did you say to a brother you haven't seen in two years?

In a slight trance, I stopped in front of the open door, my eyes placed silently on my two older siblings, one of which was lying unconscious. Opening my mouth, I closed it, as it had gone dry. Not too long ago I had been the spitfire, the perky sibling, sure I'd had my faults, but a bad attitude wasn't one of them. But now? Now hope was the farthest thing from me.

"Ryan," My voice finally rasped out, though I could barely believe I had managed it. Forcing myself, I moved into the room, but kept a good distance from both boys. Blue eyes meant my own in a confused and questioning stare.

"Molly…what are you…" Ryan was cut off before he could even finish the sentence, as a pressing question escaped my lips.

"Did you honestly shoot him Ryan?" I asked, my forhead wrinkling, as my mouth hung open slightly. It was the one thing that had been constantly weighing on my mind all day, and now that I had asked it, I wasn't so sure I wanted to know. If this place had changed him to the point that he didn't care about his real family anymore?

"Molly," He stated my name this time, in a soft manner as he visibly searched for a way to explain this to me. How did you explain this to your baby sister? Maybe there wasn't a way. "I didn't."

"Well someone did, Ryan!" Suddenly the calm and stoic persona I had taken on for the past two years seemed to melt away, rage burning deep in my blood. "Obviously he isn't okay, what the hell happened?" Fists clenched, I stepped forward, my eyes finally settling on Trey's face. Tubes ran in and out of his arm, and some type of machine regulated his breathing as another kept his heartbeat in check. He was so still, so helpless, so pitiful looking. Lifeless. This was not a way I had ever seen Trey Atwood before, not even close.

"Trey?" I questioned, wondering if he was just sleeping. That had to be it…he was just resting, that was all. I reached out and put my hand on his, squeezing it tightly. "Trey, answer me!" My voice rose, sounding high pitched and frantic, but it didn't get me an answer. My brother continued to lay there, not a sign of movement. I didn't want to cry, because growing up we had always been taught that crying did help anything, it didn't fix your problems, just wasted your time. But as my knees locked and my chest tightened, I knew that tears were inevitable. Taking a shaky breath, I crossed my arms over my chest, one hand reaching up to cover my face after dropping his hand. Crumbling forwards, I knelt on the floor, feeling the cold linoleum through my torn jeans. But as I cowered there on the floor, wondering how I could ever pick myself up, two arms encircled me, and for once, I truly believed that maybe everything would be okay.

When I feel numb I'll let you know,
I won't become what I was before,
You cannot kill what's not your creation,
This is the Art of Breaking

I think I might just lose my mind
If I have to watch this one more time
I can't explain how many times I've
Stayed for you when you were on my mind

No one ever said that it was easy
So come out of the cold and stop your bleeding
I never would of thought that things could
Go this far, but please believe me

I'll pick you up, won't let you fall
I'll build your trust and it won't hurt at all,
Your only drug will let you down,
I'm through now, so take me and blow me away

Are you gonna run away, and leave me here alone?
Are you gonna run away, and leave me here?

This is the Art of Breaking

A/N: So this chapter is kind of short, but it was something that had to be shown on it's own. The plot will continue in the next chapter, and the story will actually get moving, I can promise you that.

Thanks so much for the reviews- there's no doubt that they motivated me to get through this chapter. Hopefully you enjoyed it, since I did have a fun time writing it. I love you all soooo much!

katwoman76- First of all thanks for the review, but it's actually their sister, haha. I know I wasn't completely gender specific in the first chapter there, and I really haven't described Molly's looks yet, but it will come in due time, I promise.

kursk- I'm actually not a RyRissa writer, but there will be RyRissa tones in this story, and I guess they will be a definite ship.

sUmMeRiTh- Yeah the paragraphs are a little long, but I'm all about description and insight, but thank you for trying to get through them, lol! Hopefully it'll get easier...

Red-Satin- Awww, thanks so much! I'm going for the deep, raw type of feel, so I'm sooo stoked that it came off well.

To my other reviewers- thanks soooo much for the feedback! Send more, it seriously warms the heart and soul here. Much love, Steph