Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.
A/N: Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.
This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)
Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)
Chapter Two
"Don't move."
Ryan immediately stops struggling when he hears a man speak. He hears a "click", then the feeling of a hard object being pressed up against the side of his head.
A gun...
Ryan tries to swallow but his throat is too dry. All he can do is concentrate on breathing what little oxygen he can get through the thick, black hood.
"Move and I'll blow your fuckin' brains out."
Ryan sits motionless on the floor of the van. Even if he wanted to move, he can't. He's paralyzed with fear.
"You're gonna listen and listen good," the man instructs in a low, ominous voice as the other man kneeling behind him tightens his grip around Ryan's arms.
Ryan tries to keep his wits about him. Since his sense of sight has been temporarily rendered useless, he knows he needs to use his other senses to determine what is happening in the off chance he actually lives through this. Ryan notes the van has started moving but it's moving very slowly.
We seem to be just circling around in the parking lot...
"Tomorrow, when you take the stand, you're gonna tell the jury you lied."
Ryan listens to the man's words as he begins to feel dizzy and slightly nauseous. He knows he's breathing in too much carbon dioxide. The black hood is close to suffocating...
"You lied in your statement to the police and you lied to the grand jury. That kid never told you Bob Stankey kept his medication from him, got it?"
Ryan tries to utter "yes" but nothing comes out. He can't speak... he can barely breathe...
"You made the whole thing up, right?"
Ryan feels the gun press more firmly against his temple as sweat beads up on his forehead and runs down his face.
"I can't hear you..."
Ryan senses the man leaning in close to him. He can smell his acrid breath.
"R...r...right..."
"Good, 'cuz if you don't, here's what's gonna happen."
Ryan clenches his fists then releases them, trying desperately to calm his nerves. It doesn't work.
"You're livin' with a real nice family now, aren't ya. They got a kid around your age... Seth, right?"
Ryan mumbles "yes" and tries to suck in some air as he listens to the man speak.
"Kid likes to skateboard, but doesn't seem to like wearin' any protective gear... ya know, like a helmet? Be a real shame if a car hit him. Kid's a frickin' stringbean. Probably break in half."
Ryan hears the man utter a snapping sound with his tongue as if something is breaking, then snicker.
"And Mrs. Cohen... Kirsten, is it? Ooh lordy, now there is one fine lookin' lady."
Ryan feels the sickness grow in his stomach as the bile wells up in his throat. He knows where this conversation is going and dreads what the man will say next.
"She works at the Newport Group... drives a fancy white SUV..."
Ryan feels the gun press up against his head even harder. He wants to move away but knows any movement would probably just incense his captors. He certainly doesn't want to do anything that would provoke their ire.
"Nice lookin' lady like that, be a shame if she got into a car accident. Probably mess up her makeup and hair... along with that pretty face of hers."
Ryan swallows the bile rising in his throat as he pictures Kirsten driving home from work, only to find the brakes on her Land Rover malfunctioning. He squeezes his eyes tight and tries to take in another breath, but he's unable to rid himself of the unsettling thought.
"Now I realize those people ain't blood. Maybe you don't care about them..."
I care...
"You got a brother... Trey, right?"
Ryan feels his head beginning to pound, the roar of his pulse in his ears becoming louder as his heart rate rises. Whoever these people are, they seem to know an awful lot about him.
"Sittin' in prison... bein' a model prisoner while he waits to be paroled..."
Leave Trey out of this...
"All sorts of nasty things happen in prison..."
Please... no...
"Can't you just picture it? The guy's takin' a shower... just mindin' his own business... when out of the blue he gets a shiv jammed straight into his gut."
Ryan lets out a small whimper and blinks away the stinging tears welling up in his eyes.
"What a fuckin' mess..."
Ryan hears a derisive laugh and recoils ever so slightly. He makes a small gasp for air as he tries desperately to rid the image in his mind of his brother getting stabbed.
"Some poor schmuck will have to clean up all that blood..."
"D...d...don't..."
"Don't what?" the man asks, leaning in closer to Ryan. "Speak up."
"Don't hur... hurt them..."
Ryan shudders as the man leans in so close he feels his hot breath cut through the black hood. "Well that's entirely up to you, now ain't it."
Suddenly, the vehicle comes to a full stop, the gun is lowered and the van door slides open. In a split second, the black hood is ripped off Ryan's head as the two men throw him out of the van. Ryan gasps and sucks in fresh air as he goes sprawling headlong onto the school parking lot; the rough cement scraping his hands and bare arms as small stones bite and rip into the tender flesh of his forearms. The impact knocks the wind out of him.
The van peels out, kicking up sand and dirt in its wake. Ryan turns his head to get a look but immediately starts choking and coughing as he breaths in the fog of dust. Within seconds, the black van is gone.
With weak, trembling arms, Ryan gingerly crawls over to a patch of grass. He continues coughing then begins heaving... his chest writhing as he throws up what was left of the chocolate almond energy bar he had eaten before soccer practice.
Ryan pushes himself up off the ground and tries to steady himself. He looks down and notices his pant leg torn and blood oozing from his right knee. He stumbles over to the back of Luke's truck and begins digging around his gym bag. He grabs his water bottle and shakes it, relieved there's still some fluid left. Ryan gulps down some water then douses his face with the rest.
"Hey, you all set?"
Startled, Ryan jumps slightly then relaxes a bit when he realizes it's Luke.
"Um... yeah," Ryan replies as he tosses his water bottle back into his gym bag and retrieves his gray hoodie.
"You alright?"
"I'm fine."
"What the hell happened to you?" Luke asks, noticing his friend's scraped up arms and bloodied knee.
"Um, I tripped."
"You tripped," Luke repeats with a hint of skepticism in his voice.
"Yeah... uh... I tripped over the curb."
Luke cocks an eyebrow as he studies his friend.
"You tripped over the curb... that curb?" Luke asks, pointing over to the edge of the parking space.
"Yeah," Ryan replies. "Can we just drop it?"
Over the course of the summer, while Luke spent time forging a friendship with Ryan, he learned three things. First, he learned that his new friend didn't like to talk a lot, which didn't really bother Luke much. When Ryan did speak, it was usually about something important or useful.
"Okay, I'll drop it."
Second, Luke realized that Ryan is a loyal friend, a guy he can count on if he ever needs help. He isn't anything like his friends from Harbor, Chip and Nordland.
Hope those jerks are enjoying their stay in juvie, Luke thinks to himself.
And thirdly, he knows that Ryan is a terrible liar. Seth found that out the hard way when he asked Ryan to lie to his parents for him. Luke forgets what is was about, but Ryan failed miserably and both boys were grounded for a week.
Ryan begins to put on his hoodie, hissing at the pain as he threads his badly scraped arms through the armholes. He then tries to zip it up, but he can't due to the incessant trembling of his hands.
Luke watches his friend and sighs. It's a warm, late afternoon in early September and the kid is putting on a sweat jacket.
You're gonna hide your injuries from the Cohens. Now, why in the world would you do that?
"I appreciate you giving me a lift home," Ryan states as nonchalantly as he can while hopping into the passenger side of the truck. Ryan knows Luke doesn't believe his "tripping over the curb" story, but it was the only thing he could think of on the spur of the moment.
"Hey, no problem," Luke says as he gets into his truck and turns on the ignition. Luke glances over at Ryan. He knows it's going to be a quiet ride home, but he doesn't want to keep pressing the matter. That would just make his friend clam up even more.
Ryan stares out the side window as Luke pulls out of the school parking lot. He rubs the perspiration off his forehead then runs his hand over his face, trying to get the man's voice out of his head.
"Be a real shame if a car hit him..."
Ryan wrestles with the unnerving thought and tries to clear his mind.
"Nice lookin' lady like that... mess up that pretty face of hers."
Ryan clenches his fists and attempts to steady his nerves.
"Out of the blue, he gets a shiv jammed straight into his gut."
Ryan runs his hand over his face again, wiping the perspiration away.
"This is all my fault," Ryan mumbles softly into the palm of his hand.
There is no way I can allow anything bad to happen to the people I care about.
"Huh? Did you say something?" Luke asks, glancing over at Ryan as he turns into the Cohen's subdivision.
"Um... no," Ryan quickly replies, glancing over at his friend. "I didn't say anything."
Ryan turns his head away, looks back out the side window and sighs to himself...
I know what I have to do.