Chapter: 8.
Rating: NC17
Genre: Angst
Beta: melanie39
Disclaimer: I don't own The OC.
Note: Only a short chapter. Sorry.
Breaking The Cycle
Chapter 8.
Ryan sat in the passenger seat of the car and stared out of the windscreen. He focused on the red tail lights on the cars ahead. Sandy was quiet; his usual 'maybe things will work out for the best' speech was absent for obvious reasons tonight. Tonight was not a night for hollow optimism.
Ryan felt like nothing would be the same again. The rug had been pulled out from underneath him and he was still waiting to hit the ground. So many questions were circling his head. Where had Missy been going at that time of the night? Had she been on her way to see him? He hadn't even been aware that Missy had him down as an emergency contact. He didn't know how to contact her mom. Missy had only talked about her infrequently; they got on to a point but only if they didn't have to see each other often, they were too much alike– Missy's words. He remembered back to exactly when she uttered those words. They had been out for the day and were sharing a bath together. Missy had been lying on top of him in the warm water and although he couldn't remember how the conversation had moved around to her mom, he remembered Missy picking up a handful of bubbles and blowing them in his face as she had spoken the words. Oh shit - what the hell was he going to do without her? Ryan wasn't aware he made a sound but he must have done because Sandy's hand was back on his shoulder and he was glancing his way.
Ryan nodded to signal that he was okay and went back to his thoughts. The police said it would have been quick, that she wouldn't have been aware of much around her at the scene, her head injury was too great. He supposed that was some comfort. They had had to run her plates to find out who she was and that led to a visit to the refuge – where apparently he was listed as Missy's emergency contact. The police needed a firm I.D. of the body, as there was no identification on her at the time of death. That didn't surprise Ryan; Missy was always leaving the house without her purse or keys. She was always in a hurry and that made her a scatterbrain. He bit his lip to hold back the rising urge to cry, his tight throat telling him he was fighting a losing battle. Ryan felt like ramming his fist into the dash. Just thinking about the small details of her personality was torture. Twenty-two was no age to fucking die.
They arrived at the hospital. They had not stopped at the front entrance like everyone else - they had followed the signs and been directed around to the dark and unwelcoming back of the building. Morgues were the dirty little secret of a hospital and it stood to reason that the hospital board would want to hide it away from the brightly lit entrance lobby. Best not give too many people a glimpse into their own mortality. Besides, people came to hospital to get better, they didn't come to end up in a super sized fridge unit did they?
Ryan had seen this many times on cop dramas but the reality was somehow more mundane. They were shown into a dingy waiting area and had given their names and the name of the deceased. Deceased- that word sounded so wrong when applied to a girl like Missy. Ryan felt his whole body tense as the realization hit that this would be the last time he saw her. This would be the image that he'd never be able to get out of his head. These next few minutes would wipe away all his previous memories of her for a long time. The memories of her laying in his arms, of her leaning into him for a kiss, of her giggling and throwing pretzels at him, those would all be gone, and all that would be left was an image of a dead girl.
Missy was not a dead girl …she was vibrant and alive…not dead.
Again, it was Sandy's presence that calmed him - told him he was not alone. Sandy sat him down on one of the orange plastic moulded chairs and talked, his soft Bronx accent like a balm. Ryan couldn't really focus on what Sandy was saying but the tone he used quelled the rising tide of dismay. Ryan took deep breaths and focused on what he had to do. He had gotten enough of a handle on himself that by the time the orderly or who ever the hell it was came in to say that they were ready for them, he could stand tall and tell Sandy that he wanted to do this on his own. Ryan watched as he saw conflict flicker across his guardian's face but Sandy eventually nodded and stood aside with the assurance that he'd be waiting right here.
Ryan followed the other guy to a room. It was fucking cold and bare, just what he'd expected it to be. It reminded him of the locker rooms at Chino Hills; they both had the same dank unloved qualities about them. Someone had made effort here by placing an arrangement of fake flowers on a table that sat in the corner but it didn't detract from the chemical smell and the depressive fug that filled the room. One wall was dominated by a large picture window, the room behind the glass held a large table shrouded in white. Ryan swallowed. He was given instructions – he could either look at the face through the glass or look at the TV monitor above his head. There was a pause …Ryan focused on the sheet in front of him. The guy behind the glass looked like some kind of sick magician about to perform a disturbing party trick as he stood there with the shroud eagerly gripped in his hand. The man next to Ryan asked if he was ready – Ryan gave a barely perceivable nod and the sheet was lifted.
Ryan never really knew what the phrase 'to take your breath away meant' until that moment. As soon as that sheet had been lifted he'd exhaled involuntarily and now he couldn't seem to perform the simplest of tasks like breathe. He stared at the bruised face in front of him. The face of a young woman that had had so much ahead of her, a face that he'd woken up to. He couldn't take this …he couldn't take this…this was wrong, someone was fucking with him. He was being punished – that's what this was- it wasn't real.
He turned blindly and walked down the corridor as quickly as he could. He could hear the guy behind him following and asking if he was okay but he just focused on getting outside before he lost his lunch. He was running by the time he passed Sandy in the waiting area, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He pushed open the double swing doors that led outside with both his hands and took two strides before his stomach gave up its fight to hold on. His vomit splattered the tarmac just as the sound of footsteps thudded to a stop beside him.
Sandy rubbed his back as he heaved. "I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry kid." He kept repeating.
Ryan spat at the ground and shut his eyes to block out the mess on the floor in front of him. When he felt the urge to retch leave him, he took a step back. Sandy steered him to a wall to the left of him and sat him down. It seemed that Sandy was a good person to have around at the moment because it appeared that he instinctively knew when he was at the point of collapse. His legs were definitely shaking and his brain couldn't grasp what the fuck was going on - he wasn't sure what to do next.
Ryan looked into Sandy's eyes, he needed to put this onto his shoulders because at this point in time he couldn't take anymore, and he seriously couldn't take it anymore.
"It wasn't her." He said quietly.
"What?" Sandy looked confused.
"It wasn't her…"
"But who…" Sandy started to ask.
Ryan felt sick again.
"It was Becky…." His voice was barely above a whisper.
Sandy's face registered confusion. Ryan turned away. He could hear the frantic murmuring of Sandy as he tried to bring the hospital guy up to speed.
Ryan put his head in his hands. Where the hell was Melissa? And why was Becky driving Missy's car?
The talking stopped as he lurched forward and threw up again. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
Where the hell would this leave Danny?
TBC.