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. :-)
I want to apologize for taking so long to update. I've been struggling with health issues the past few months and writing has, I'm afraid, taken a back seat. Also my cat, who already has kidney disease, has been diagnosed with liver cancer and holidays are in full swing... well, you get the picture.
I hope you'll be patient and stick with this story until the end. I've got it all laid out. I just have to write it! :-)
Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)
Chapter Three
"Isn't Ryan home yet?"
Kirsten looks up from the breakfast bar and sees her son amble listlessly into the kitchen, moping and dragging his feet.
"No, not yet," Kirsten replies as she returns to sorting through the mail.
"Why didn't you pick him up from practice? You always pick him up from practice."
"He texted me saying Luke was giving him a lift home."
Seth plops down on the stool, slumps his shoulders and sighs heavily. "I don't understand why Ryan couldn't go to Harbor. It's not fair."
"We've already been over this. The school would not make any exceptions," Kirsten says.
"But Ryan's probation will be over in a couple of months," Seth points out. "Why can't he transfer over to Harbor starting the next semester in January?"
"Your father and I discussed this and we agreed that stability is the most important thing right now for Ryan. He's also making new friends and getting involved in school activities."
"Yeah, but..."
"We also discussed it with Ryan and he told us he would prefer to stay at Corona Del Mar for the time being," Kirsten continues. "He's got enough on his plate right now. He doesn't need transferring to a new school compounding his stress."
"I suppose," Seth grudgingly acknowledges. "But it just seems like he's never home. He's either at soccer practice or over at Luke's."
"Well, they are doing a history project together," Kirsten states as she sets aside most of the mail for recycling. "And, I seem to recall they tried working on their project here but they kept getting interrupted."
Kirsten gives her son a stern stare, letting him know he was the source of their constant interruptions.
Seth shrugs off his mother's stare, gazes down at the breakfast bar and lets out a long sigh.
"I don't understand why I can't go to the hearing tomorrow with you guys," Seth says. "I would just be missing one day of school."
"Ryan told us he only wanted me and your father to come with him tomorrow," Kirsten replies, trying to be understanding.
"But why?"
"You know what happened to Ryan at the group home, don't you?" Kirsten asks.
"Yeah, Dad told me he was abused but wouldn't tell me any details," Seth replies.
"Ryan is a very private person. You need to respect that and give him space."
"I know..."
"The man who abused Ryan is on trial for second-degree murder," Kirsten says.
"Yeah, about this depraved indifference thing," Seth says. "I thought the kid committed suicide."
"His name is Tyler and he did kill himself but, according to Ryan, Tyler told him Bob Stankey withheld his medication from him. Medication for depression and anxiety... that boy suffered from bipolar disorder."
"So this Stankey guy is responsible?" Seth asks, trying to make sense of the situation.
"Yes, he is," Kirsten states. "The State Prosecutor is making the argument that if Tyler had his medication, he wouldn't have killed himself."
Kirsten watches her son continue to mope; his shoulders slumping down even further.
"Your father and I will be with Ryan tomorrow every step of the way," Kirsten says, reassuring her son. "Hopefully, when this trial is over, everything can get back to normal and Ryan can start healing."
The boy needs to heal, Kirsten thinks to herself. And he won't be able to heal if that monster who abused him isn't locked up behind bars.
"I really want this trial to be over," Seth says with melancholy in his voice.
"We all do," Kirsten acknowledges as she caresses her son's hands with her own. "And believe me when I say this, Ryan wants this trial to be over most of all."
Ryan slowly opens the front door and peeks his head inside the foyer. When he sees the coast is clear, he carefully steps in the house and quietly closes the door. Ryan hears voices coming from the kitchen.
Kirsten and Seth, Ryan thinks to himself. Thank god they're alright. They're safe, at least for now...
Ryan slips off his shoes and makes his way upstairs, lugging his gym bag and bookbag, trying to be as quiet as possible. He enters his bedroom and carefully sets his bags on the floor. Immediately, he grabs clean clothes from his closet and dresser and makes his way across the hall to the bathroom.
Ryan closes the bathroom door and takes in a deep breath, relieved to have made it this far undetected. He then begins the task of undressing; shedding his gray hoodie and peeling off his t-shirt. Ryan grits his teeth as the clothing rubs against his red, chafed forearms.
Ryan looks at his pale reflection in the mirror as he turns on the faucet. He immediately splashes cool water on his face then begins rinsing his sore arms under the stream of water. He turns off the water and grabs the soft hand towel. Ever so gently, he begins drying off, dabbing the towel along the streaks of raised, red welts. He grimaces as he gazes down at the inside of his forearms, all red, raw and throbbing with pain.
Then Ryan remembers the scrapes his got on his lower back when he fell backwards into a pile of construction material during the fight at the model home. Kirsten gave him some ointment to soothe the burning and relieve the pain. Ryan opens the cabinet and takes out the first aid kit. He's relieved to see some ointment left and immediately applies a thick coat over his scraped up arms. He wraps clean gauze around his forearms, tucking the ends in to secure. He then pulls on a long-sleeve, powder blue Henley, then places his t-shirt and gray hoodie in the hamper.
Ryan sadly looks down at his torn trousers and wonders if there's any way to mend them. He slips off his pants and folds them up neatly, deciding to place them back in his dresser. He'll deal with fixing them some other time.
Ryan wets a wad of kleenex and dabs his bloodied knee. He covers the wound with a band-aid and puts on a pair of clean pants. He then returns the first-aid kit in the cabinet and makes his way back to his bedroom.
"Hey, you're home! When did you get home?"
Ryan turns around and sees Seth standing in the threshold.
"Um... just a few minutes ago," Ryan replies as he places his damaged pants in his dresser drawer.
"Do you feel like playing a video game before dinner?" Seth asks, hoping his friend will say "yes". "Maybe it would get your mind off of... well, you know... stuff..."
Ryan offers up a half-smile, appreciating his friend's concern. "Sure, I could use a little distraction."
But, I'm not sure how much it will help...
"Hi, sweetheart," Sandy says as he walks into the kitchen and places a large take-out bag from Wong's on the breakfast bar. "How was your day?"
Kirsten opens the bag and begins the ritual of transferring the food into fancy serving dishes.
"Well, let's see... my father is being difficult..."
"Nothing new there," Sandy quips.
"He doesn't like the fact that I'm leaving work everyday at three, even though I'm working most weekends," Kirsten states.
"He doesn't like the reason you're leaving work early," Sandy clarifies as he grabs some napkins and takes silverware out of the drawer to set the table.
"Too bad," Kirsten says with a bit of edge in her voice. "I want to be here when Seth and Ryan come home from school. My father needs to just deal with it."
Sandy finds himself unable to mask a pleased, almost smug grin on his face as he begins to set the table. He knows it's killing his father-in-law that his daughter is placing family before work. And not just his family, but the new addition to their family... Ryan.
"And Seth is being... well, how should I say it..."
"Needy?" Sandy says, finishing his wife's sentence as he makes his way back to the kitchen."
"Yes, needy. And I'm trying to be patient..."
"I know you are," Sandy says as he wraps his arms around his wife and hugs her warmly. "Why don't you call the boys down for dinner. I'll get the plates and finish setting the table."
"I don't think I'll have to," Kirsten says when she sees both Seth and Ryan enter the kitchen.
"I thought I smelled take-out from Wong's," Seth says, seemingly in a much better mood than he was earlier. "I'm starving. Let's eat."
Ryan swallows back the acrid taste in his throat; the smell of the take-out overwhelming his senses. His stomach twists and rolls as he fights off the urge to throw up. He's no where near hungry. The last thing he wants to do is eat.
"Ryan, I got you your favorite," Sandy says, guiding the boy to the dinner table. "Chicken with peppers and broccoli."
Ryan offers Sandy a pained but appreciative smile and quietly replies, "Thanks."
Ryan takes a seat at the table and watches as Sandy places a hefty size serving of rice, chicken and vegetables onto his plate. He looks down at the food and sighs, then glances up at the family, all digging into their meal and enjoying every salty, savory bite.
Ryan notices some chopsticks next to his fork. He fondly recalls how Kirsten taught him how to use chopsticks whenever they had take-out from Wongs, which was often. He picks up the chopsticks and lets out a small sigh of relief, knowing he can just pick up tiny morsels of food with the utensil. He scatters some chicken and broccoli around on his plate, then takes a small bite of sticky rice.
I'll be fine...
Ryan continues to flick bits of food around on his plate with the chopsticks. He can't stomach eating. All he can think about is how he's placed this family, people who have given him a home and have made him feel safe... and his brother...
They're all in danger... because of me.
"Ryan... honey, aren't you hungry?" Kirsten asks gently, noticing the boy playing with his food instead of eating.
Ryan sets the chopsticks down on his plate and sighs, "No, I'm really not hungry. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," Kirsten says, reaching over and placing her hand upon the boy's hand, hoping to allay some of his distress. "We understand."
Ryan feels a hard lump form in his throat. He tries to swallow it down but he can't. It won't budge. He's sickened by what could happen to this family, and to his brother, all because of him.
"I'm sorry, I'm just not hungry," Ryan states softly. "May I be excused?"
Kirsten glances over at Sandy with a look of grave concern upon her face. She feels her heart sink, knowing the boy is distraught and is doing everything in his power to conceal it.
"Ryan, we can talk about it," Sandy offers, sharing his wife's concern.
"Thanks... but I think I'd like to just go to my room. I'm really tired."
"Alright," Sandy says, not wanting to push the boy too hard.
He'll just shut down even more...
Ryan stands up from the table and takes in a deep breath. He then looks up at Sandy, Kirsten and Seth and quietly says, "I'm sorry."
They all watch Ryan walk away; the boy's head lowered, looking directly at the ground... his face noticeably pained and conflicted.
"Maybe I should ask him if he wants to play some more video games," Seth offers.
"No, leave Ryan alone," Sandy states. "Give him some space."
"But..."
"No 'buts'," Kirsten pipes in. "Have you finished your homework?"
"No..." Seth grumbles, unable to mask his disappointment. "I was hoping you'd change your mind about tomorrow and I could come with you guys."
"Go finish your homework," Sandy orders. "Your mother and I will clean up."
"Fine," Seth says with an exasperated sigh, realizing he's been defeated. His slumped shoulders and listless amble returns as he drags his feet up the stairs to his bedroom.
"This is too much for Ryan," Kirsten says as she and Sandy begin clearing the table. "Who else is testifying tomorrow?"
"Well, the Medical Examiner who performed the autopsy and Sheriff Hicks will be testifying," Sandy replies.
"What about that other boy at the group home," Kirsten inquires as she begins putting the leftover food into plastic containers. "The one who corroborated Ryan's statement. Why isn't he testifying along with Ryan?"
"That boy turned eighteen three months ago and promptly got arrested for assault and attempted rape of a teenage girl," Sandy answers solemnly. "Mike Nolan..."
"He's the prosecutor, right?" Kirsten interrupts, wanting to make sure she has all of her facts straight.
"Yes," Sandy replies. "He felt it would be unwise to put that kid on the stand. Besides, he wanted a deal in exchange for his testimony and Mike wouldn't budge. He's got two young daughters. There was no way he was going to cut a deal."
"I don't blame him," Kirsten says.
"Mike feels he has an open and shut case," Sandy says, trying to reassure his wife. "With the medical files showing Tyler was on medication for psychiatric disorders and the autopsy showing no trace of the medication he needed in his bloodstream..." Sandy pauses a moment and takes Kirsten's hands into his. "Combine all that with the statement Ryan gave back in June and his testimony tomorrow..."
"But why was the lesser charge dropped?" Kirsten interrupts.
"The gross misdemeanor malicious punishment of a child?"
"Yes, why would they not charge Stankey with that?" Kirsten asks. "If he's found not guilty of the felony he would most certainly be found guilty of child abuse."
"That was the deal the defense attorney wanted," Sandy says. "With just the one felony charge, the defense is betting that the prosecutor won't be able to prove the case beyond a reasonable doubt and therefore the jury won't be able to convict. It's a risky move by the defense, but not that unusual."
"If they don't convict, then that monster will go free," Kirsten states as she leans in close to Sandy and rests her weary head on his shoulder.
"But he won't go free. They won't win," Sandy assures as he gives his wife a gentle hug. "I'm with Mike Nolan on this. He's got an open and shut case."
"You need to reassure Ryan," Kirsten says as she goes back to putting the leftovers away. "Maybe you could go..."
"Talk to him?" Sandy says, finishing his wife's sentence.
"Could you? I can finish up here."
"Of course, I can," Sandy says, kissing his wife on the top of her head. "Try not to worry. Everything's going to be alright."
Sandy makes his way up the spiral staircase. He peeks his head inside Seth's room and sees his son sitting up in bed with earphones on, listening to music while doing his homework. He then walks over to Ryan's bedroom. He notices the door slightly ajar but knocks softly before entering.
"Ryan, may I come in?"
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ryan looks up as Sandy enters the room. He knows Sandy senses something is wrong. Ryan quietly berates himself for not doing a better job hiding his feelings.
The last thing I want is for Sandy and Kirsten to worry about me.
"Kirsten and I are worried about you," Sandy says, taking a seat next to Ryan on the bed.
Ryan lets out a long sigh and softly says, "I'm sorry."
"It's alright. You don't need to apologize," Sandy reassures. "It's something that parents do. We worry about our kids."
Ryan glances over at Sandy and offers a small, heartfelt smile. The Cohen's have spent all summer making sure he feels a part of their family, and he couldn't be more grateful. With his father, brother and mother all serving time, Ryan knows he could be bouncing around from one foster home to another. Instead, he lives with a kind and loving family.
"I know you must be nervous about tomorrow."
"Yeah, I am... a little," Ryan acknowledges, although he's not sure how convincing he is at downplaying the dread that has consumed him.
"Just remember everything Mr. Nolan told you when we met with him the other day," Sandy says. "You rehearsed your testimony with him. You know the questions he's going to ask you and how you'll answer them, right?"
"Yes."
"And he also went over every possible question the defense may ask you."
"Yeah..."
"So just keep your eyes focused on Mr. Nolan," Sandy continues, knowing that Bob Stankey's presence in the courtroom will be unnerving for the boy. "He'll guide you through your testimony tomorrow. All you need to do is tell the truth."
Sandy notices the boy lower his head. He appears almost despondent as if something is tearing him apart inside.
"Remember, Kirsten and I will be with you," Sandy says with as much encouragement as he can muster.
"I know... and I appreciate it."
Sandy offers Ryan a warm smile and places his hand on the boy's slumped shoulder. He immediately removes his hand when Ryan flinches and slightly recoils, shrinking away from his touch.
Sandy sighs heavily. The boy hasn't flinched away from being touched in months.
"Ryan, we can talk about it..."
"No, I really don't want to talk," Ryan says quietly. "I'm tired, Sandy."
Sandy presses his lips together as he attempts to hide his frustration. If he's learned one thing about Ryan, it's that the boy will talk when he's ready to talk. No amount of pushing, prodding or pleading will change that fact.
In defeat, Sandy stands up and begins walking towards the door.
"Um... Sandy?"
Sandy turns around with anticipation and hope in his eyes. "Yes, Ryan? What is it?"
Ryan adamantly runs through his jumbled thoughts. He doesn't know why he stopped Sandy from leaving. It was foolish and careless. Telling Sandy what happened to him after soccer practice would do no one any good, especially Kirsten, Seth and Trey. He needs to remain quiet. Their lives depend on it.
"Um... nothing," Ryan says, almost in a whisper. "It's nothing."
Sandy runs his hand over his mouth, hiding his disappointment.
"You know I'm here, Ryan, if you want to talk," Sandy says.
"I know."
"I'll let you get some rest," Sandy says as he begins to leave Ryan's bedroom. "We'll have to head out early tomorrow morning due to rush hour. I'll wake you up."
"Okay. Thanks, Sandy."
Ryan watches Sandy leave and sighs deeply. He walks over and closes his bedroom door, then goes and sits back down on his bed. He runs his hands through his hair then down over his distraught face. Ryan peers through his fingers and sees his bookbag sitting on the floor where he left it.
Suddenly, he remembers the manilla envelope.
Someone must have placed it in my bag while I was in the shower, Ryan thinks to himself, recalling the noise he heard in the locker room. I thought it was Luke...
Ryan immediately makes his way over to his bag, unzips the top and takes out a 4 by 6 inch envelope. He turns it over a few times in his hands, looking for writing... anything... but the envelope is blank.
Ryan sits down on the edge of his bed and slowly opens the envelope. He removes three photographs. He begins to feel ill as he fights off the anxiety welling up inside him. Ryan gazes down at the first picture.
Seth.
Ryan swallows the bile rising in his throat as he stares down at the picture; both he and Seth down at the pier. They were there just last weekend grabbing some lunch. Seth on his skateboard...
"Be a real shame if a car hit him..."
Ryan shudders as he hears the man's voice in his head. The thought of someone hurting his friend... the eerie feeling that someone was following them, taking pictures...
Ryan looks at the next photo and feels his heart sink.
Kirsten.
Ryan looks at the photo. He studies it intently. Kirsten standing next to her Land Rover, ready to get in. She's in a parking lot. The Newport Group.
She's leaving work, Ryan thinks to himself. She's probably on her way to pick me up from soccer practice...
Ryan tries to shake off the uneasiness... the dread that has already taken hold of him. He draws in a deep breath and musters up the courage to look at the last picture.
A shiv.
Ryan studies a picture of a closeup of a small knife. Someone holding a shiv.
Trey is in danger...
Ryan continues to study the photo. It's clear to him it was taken in a prison, but how could someone take a picture in prison? He knows it's probably easy to assemble small weapons, but to get a camera?
Ryan remembers when he and Sandy visited Trey. They had to give up their wallets, cell phones...
We even had to take off our belts...
Ryan places the pictures back inside the manilla envelope and walks over to the dresser. He opens the drawer and places the envelope underneath his torn pants. Ryan slowly closes his dresser drawer. He wishes he could make everything go away. He wishes he could keep everyone he cares about safe.
Ryan sighs heavily and leans his forehead against the tall dresser.
"What am I going to do?" Ryan whispers softly.
This is all my fault.