OCSFC
Title: Circular Motion Takes It Straight to the Point
Rating: R
For: finlee
Sentence: Marissa finds Ryan's journal and she's not too happy about what she reads
A/N: I am so sorry. This started out fine and it just... I'm sorry. It's rated for darkness.
The room is dark as she waits.
The only thing she can hear is the sound of her own breathing; steady, rhythmic, strong.
They won’t be here for at least another ten minutes or so.
She lets herself think back.
…
“Atwood’s just being… Atwood,” Summer sighs through the phone.
“Exactly,” Marissa says, picking at a thread hanging from her pillow. “He’s being broody and silent and I can’t tell what’s going on with him, Sum. I feel like he’s hiding something.”
“You think he’s cheating on you?” Summer asks, seemingly more interested now and Marissa wants to roll her eyes.
“Well, now I do,” Marissa pouts, tugging harder at the thread, even though she should just leave it alone.
“Don’t,” Summer says. “Ryan would never. And if he was, Seth would know, and then I’d know.”
“I’m not crazy, though,” Marissa says. “I know something’s up.”
“Whatever you say, Coop,” Summer says. “I have to go, Allison’s crying.”
The dial tone sounds in her ear and she looks down to see that the she’s pulled too hard and now the thread is unraveling.
…
She thinks she hears a car, but a look out the window shows it’s just the neighbors getting home.
That makes sense.
It is a Friday night, or technically Saturday morning, after all, it makes sense for people to be getting home after a night out. She idly wonders what they had been doing.
Were they happy?
Like she had been, once?
…
They never have sex anymore.
He barely even kisses her. He comes home from work every day and gives her an obligatory kiss before setting his stuff down and either watching TV or calling Seth to hang out.
She tries picking fights with him, but he won’t bite.
She leaves random men’s names with phone numbers around the house, but he doesn’t notice.
One evening, she ‘accidentally’ takes some pain killers and then drinks too much wine.
At the hospital, he looks tired.
Nothing really changes after that.
…
She stands up with a sigh and heads into the kitchen. Ryan hadn’t really wanted alcohol in the house, but she keeps a small stash of wine and she figures why the hell not have a glass now.
Who knows, it might be her last one.
…
She finds his journal one Sunday afternoon while he’s at a 3D shark movie with Seth.
She figures if she reads it, she’ll find out he’s cheating on her, but there isn’t another girl. Unless she counts his secretary, but she highly doubts Ryan would sleep with a married woman who treats him like a son.
No, it isn’t another woman making Ryan distant.
It’s her.
…
She sips at her wine and heads back to the living room to wait.
They should be here in less than five minutes now and she wants to enjoy the silence while it lasts.
…
He can’t stand her.
In his stupid journal, he insists that when he married her, he’d loved her. But somewhere along the way, he stopped.
Now he’s just too goddamn noble to leave her, because who knows what she’d do if he left? Just look at the incident with the pills and the alcohol.
He comes home after his movie trip with Seth and she almost confronts him, but something stops her.
She doesn’t say anything and he kisses her goodnight and goes to bed.
The next day, she calls out of work and she spends the whole day reading.
It’s about noon when she reads the second-to-last entry and finds out he’s going to divorce her.
He can’t take it anymore - pretending to love her when he doesn’t. He writes that he cares about her, and he wants what’s best for her, but he also has to think about himself, too.
Apparently, he thinks that he always puts her first instead of himself and it’s time to change.
…
She remembers trying to think back through their entire relationship and not once can she think of an instance where he put her interests above his own, or those of the Cohens. He always chooses everyone else over her.
…
“I don’t know what you want from me, Marissa,” he says, running a hand over his face.
“I want you to tell me this is a joke,” she says, waving his journal at him.
“Well, you obviously read it, and it’s not like I’d lie in there. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve spent ten years trying to be someone I’m not for you, and I just… I’m so tired.”
“We’re just in a rut,” she tries, noticing, for the first time, that her hands are shaking uncontrollably.
“This isn’t a rut,” he says, giving her a look that makes her want to scream. He’s looking at her like she’s crazy. Like she’s the one about to throw away a ten year relationship over nothing.
And it is nothing.
This is just a fight, he’ll get over it.
“There’s no point in putting this off anymore, I guess,” he continues. “Sandy’s gonna send over the paperwork tomorrow.”
…
That was Monday. It seems so long ago.
She lifts her glass to take another sip of wine and discovers that her hands are shaking.
…
He spends the rest of the week packing.
He’s leaving her the house, he tells her, like he’s some kind of goddamn hero for it.
Seth and Summer are being ridiculous, too. They won’t help. She expects as much from Seth, he’s basically Ryan’s slave, but Summer… she doesn’t expect Summer to betray her.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Summer says, balancing Allison on her hip. “You guys haven’t been happy for a long time.”
…
Marissa doesn’t know what Summer had been talking about. She’s been perfectly happy up until Ryan started all this nonsense about divorce. She’d just needed to convince Ryan of that.
…
“You can’t leave me,” she says, tears streaming down her face.
“Marissa,” he sighs, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “This isn’t working out, we both know it. Just go to sleep, ok?”
It’s Friday night and it’s the last night he’ll be spending in their house with her. Tomorrow he’s going to crash at the Cohens’.
“Sleep?” she asks, backing away from him and feeling the panic rise.
He isn’t seeing reason. How is she supposed to stop all this if he won’t see reason?
“Marissa,” he tries, looking tired.
“I don’t want to sleep,” she spits, picking up the nearest object and hurling it at him.
“Shit!” he hisses and ducks the bottle of perfume, which smashes against the wall. Her eyes start to water from the sudden, overwhelming, smell of her perfume and she rubs at them.
When she opens her eyes, he’s walking out of their bedroom and downstairs, where he said he’d be sleeping that night.
“This is just a fight,” she cries, running after him down the stairs.
“Marissa, stop,” he says without turning back.
“You can’t leave me. What am I supposed to do without you?”
“I don’t know,” he sighs, “why don’t you ask Colin?”
“What?” she asks, stopping short.
“You didn’t think I knew about that?” he asks, finally making it to the living room.
“That was once, Ryan. It meant nothing!”
“Shut up,” he says, finally turning to look at her. “I don’t want to hear it.”
…
She sets her empty glass down on the living room table and looks over at the fireplace mantle, where their wedding picture still sits.
Then her eyes move to the fire poker that sits propped up against the couch.
…
"You have to give me a second chance,” she begs, hating how desperate she sounds.
“I’ve given you so many fucking chances it’s not even funny. I forgave you for Oliver, for getting mixed up with Volchok, for almost getting yourself killed, for Dan in freshman year. I’m done with giving you second chances. Colin was it.”
“Ryan,” she says, her hands shaking so violently that the rest of her body follows.
“You know what? I think I’m just gonna leave tonight.”
He turns from her and she stumbles over to the fireplace and picks up the fire poker.
“You can’t leave,” she sobs, but he ignores her. “You can’t.”
…
They should be here by now, she muses.
She runs a hand through her hair and looks down at the floor, shifting her foot out of the way of the spreading pool of blood.
These are nice shoes.
…
“Ryan?” she asks, voice trembling.
He doesn’t answer, so she takes a step forward. “Ryan?” she asks again, before kneeling next to him.
It’s then she notices the blood under his head, and when she looks down at the fire poker still in her hand, she sees there’s blood on it, too.
When she feels for a pulse, there’s nothing there and after a few minutes, she stands up.
In daze, she moves to the phone and dials and waits for the operator to pick up.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“My husband’s been killed,” she says, her voice surprisingly calm.
…
Finally, she thinks, as flashing red and blue lights fill the dark room.
She goes to open the door for the paramedics as they rush inside. For nothing, really, but they seem intent on making sure he’s dead.
The police ask her questions and she answers as best she can, and she doesn’t fight when she feels the cuffs snap on her wrists.
He really shouldn’t have tried to leave her.
Rating: R
For: finlee
Sentence: Marissa finds Ryan's journal and she's not too happy about what she reads
A/N: I am so sorry. This started out fine and it just... I'm sorry. It's rated for darkness.
The room is dark as she waits.
The only thing she can hear is the sound of her own breathing; steady, rhythmic, strong.
They won’t be here for at least another ten minutes or so.
She lets herself think back.
…
“Atwood’s just being… Atwood,” Summer sighs through the phone.
“Exactly,” Marissa says, picking at a thread hanging from her pillow. “He’s being broody and silent and I can’t tell what’s going on with him, Sum. I feel like he’s hiding something.”
“You think he’s cheating on you?” Summer asks, seemingly more interested now and Marissa wants to roll her eyes.
“Well, now I do,” Marissa pouts, tugging harder at the thread, even though she should just leave it alone.
“Don’t,” Summer says. “Ryan would never. And if he was, Seth would know, and then I’d know.”
“I’m not crazy, though,” Marissa says. “I know something’s up.”
“Whatever you say, Coop,” Summer says. “I have to go, Allison’s crying.”
The dial tone sounds in her ear and she looks down to see that the she’s pulled too hard and now the thread is unraveling.
…
She thinks she hears a car, but a look out the window shows it’s just the neighbors getting home.
That makes sense.
It is a Friday night, or technically Saturday morning, after all, it makes sense for people to be getting home after a night out. She idly wonders what they had been doing.
Were they happy?
Like she had been, once?
…
They never have sex anymore.
He barely even kisses her. He comes home from work every day and gives her an obligatory kiss before setting his stuff down and either watching TV or calling Seth to hang out.
She tries picking fights with him, but he won’t bite.
She leaves random men’s names with phone numbers around the house, but he doesn’t notice.
One evening, she ‘accidentally’ takes some pain killers and then drinks too much wine.
At the hospital, he looks tired.
Nothing really changes after that.
…
She stands up with a sigh and heads into the kitchen. Ryan hadn’t really wanted alcohol in the house, but she keeps a small stash of wine and she figures why the hell not have a glass now.
Who knows, it might be her last one.
…
She finds his journal one Sunday afternoon while he’s at a 3D shark movie with Seth.
She figures if she reads it, she’ll find out he’s cheating on her, but there isn’t another girl. Unless she counts his secretary, but she highly doubts Ryan would sleep with a married woman who treats him like a son.
No, it isn’t another woman making Ryan distant.
It’s her.
…
She sips at her wine and heads back to the living room to wait.
They should be here in less than five minutes now and she wants to enjoy the silence while it lasts.
…
He can’t stand her.
In his stupid journal, he insists that when he married her, he’d loved her. But somewhere along the way, he stopped.
Now he’s just too goddamn noble to leave her, because who knows what she’d do if he left? Just look at the incident with the pills and the alcohol.
He comes home after his movie trip with Seth and she almost confronts him, but something stops her.
She doesn’t say anything and he kisses her goodnight and goes to bed.
The next day, she calls out of work and she spends the whole day reading.
It’s about noon when she reads the second-to-last entry and finds out he’s going to divorce her.
He can’t take it anymore - pretending to love her when he doesn’t. He writes that he cares about her, and he wants what’s best for her, but he also has to think about himself, too.
Apparently, he thinks that he always puts her first instead of himself and it’s time to change.
…
She remembers trying to think back through their entire relationship and not once can she think of an instance where he put her interests above his own, or those of the Cohens. He always chooses everyone else over her.
…
“I don’t know what you want from me, Marissa,” he says, running a hand over his face.
“I want you to tell me this is a joke,” she says, waving his journal at him.
“Well, you obviously read it, and it’s not like I’d lie in there. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve spent ten years trying to be someone I’m not for you, and I just… I’m so tired.”
“We’re just in a rut,” she tries, noticing, for the first time, that her hands are shaking uncontrollably.
“This isn’t a rut,” he says, giving her a look that makes her want to scream. He’s looking at her like she’s crazy. Like she’s the one about to throw away a ten year relationship over nothing.
And it is nothing.
This is just a fight, he’ll get over it.
“There’s no point in putting this off anymore, I guess,” he continues. “Sandy’s gonna send over the paperwork tomorrow.”
…
That was Monday. It seems so long ago.
She lifts her glass to take another sip of wine and discovers that her hands are shaking.
…
He spends the rest of the week packing.
He’s leaving her the house, he tells her, like he’s some kind of goddamn hero for it.
Seth and Summer are being ridiculous, too. They won’t help. She expects as much from Seth, he’s basically Ryan’s slave, but Summer… she doesn’t expect Summer to betray her.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Summer says, balancing Allison on her hip. “You guys haven’t been happy for a long time.”
…
Marissa doesn’t know what Summer had been talking about. She’s been perfectly happy up until Ryan started all this nonsense about divorce. She’d just needed to convince Ryan of that.
…
“You can’t leave me,” she says, tears streaming down her face.
“Marissa,” he sighs, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “This isn’t working out, we both know it. Just go to sleep, ok?”
It’s Friday night and it’s the last night he’ll be spending in their house with her. Tomorrow he’s going to crash at the Cohens’.
“Sleep?” she asks, backing away from him and feeling the panic rise.
He isn’t seeing reason. How is she supposed to stop all this if he won’t see reason?
“Marissa,” he tries, looking tired.
“I don’t want to sleep,” she spits, picking up the nearest object and hurling it at him.
“Shit!” he hisses and ducks the bottle of perfume, which smashes against the wall. Her eyes start to water from the sudden, overwhelming, smell of her perfume and she rubs at them.
When she opens her eyes, he’s walking out of their bedroom and downstairs, where he said he’d be sleeping that night.
“This is just a fight,” she cries, running after him down the stairs.
“Marissa, stop,” he says without turning back.
“You can’t leave me. What am I supposed to do without you?”
“I don’t know,” he sighs, “why don’t you ask Colin?”
“What?” she asks, stopping short.
“You didn’t think I knew about that?” he asks, finally making it to the living room.
“That was once, Ryan. It meant nothing!”
“Shut up,” he says, finally turning to look at her. “I don’t want to hear it.”
…
She sets her empty glass down on the living room table and looks over at the fireplace mantle, where their wedding picture still sits.
Then her eyes move to the fire poker that sits propped up against the couch.
…
"You have to give me a second chance,” she begs, hating how desperate she sounds.
“I’ve given you so many fucking chances it’s not even funny. I forgave you for Oliver, for getting mixed up with Volchok, for almost getting yourself killed, for Dan in freshman year. I’m done with giving you second chances. Colin was it.”
“Ryan,” she says, her hands shaking so violently that the rest of her body follows.
“You know what? I think I’m just gonna leave tonight.”
He turns from her and she stumbles over to the fireplace and picks up the fire poker.
“You can’t leave,” she sobs, but he ignores her. “You can’t.”
…
They should be here by now, she muses.
She runs a hand through her hair and looks down at the floor, shifting her foot out of the way of the spreading pool of blood.
These are nice shoes.
…
“Ryan?” she asks, voice trembling.
He doesn’t answer, so she takes a step forward. “Ryan?” she asks again, before kneeling next to him.
It’s then she notices the blood under his head, and when she looks down at the fire poker still in her hand, she sees there’s blood on it, too.
When she feels for a pulse, there’s nothing there and after a few minutes, she stands up.
In daze, she moves to the phone and dials and waits for the operator to pick up.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“My husband’s been killed,” she says, her voice surprisingly calm.
…
Finally, she thinks, as flashing red and blue lights fill the dark room.
She goes to open the door for the paramedics as they rush inside. For nothing, really, but they seem intent on making sure he’s dead.
The police ask her questions and she answers as best she can, and she doesn’t fight when she feels the cuffs snap on her wrists.
He really shouldn’t have tried to leave her.