Jenny was a Friend of Mine (Ryan Fic) (PG-13/R)So, here is my Ryan angst fic. I just started to write it (something to do when school ends), but it's been on my mind for such a long time. It's based on The Killer's (you know, the guys who sing Mr.Brightside) song, Jenny Was a Friend of Mine. It's a great song, if you ever want to download something LOL! I'd really love if you leave feedback, because I've put a lot of time and effort into this story, and I hope you all enjoy it!
Title: Jenny was a Friend of Mine Author: Gabrielle (Gabbize) Rating: PG-13/R for subject matter Disclaimer: No, sadly, I do not own Ryan John Seacrest. Or Shana Wall. Or Paula Abdul. Or Simey. LOL
Jenny was a Friend of Mine
Chapter 1:False Accusations
“Where is she?”
“You know exactly where she is”
The small ‘room’ made of cement walls becomes silent. The officers are circled around me, giving me now room to breathe. The lamp above me is giving off hot air, making my shirt stick to my chest. It is the only light in this square, deathly room.
I hear my heart pound heavily, yet weak in my chest. I can feel all the eyes on me. I feel sick to my stomach, as I sit in this cold cellar of the Police Department of Beverly Hills.
But why am I here?
Flashback:
I walked step by step on a cold, September night. The breeze slipped through my hair, leaving both my hands in my pockets to keep myself warm. I should have worn a warmer jacket, but being the true genius I am that didn’t happen. She told me to meet her here about a short hour ago. Her voice sounded fearful. Like something wasn’t right. To tell you the truth, I was also fearful. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes briefly.
I saw her figure come closer in the soft, white mist. I see mist as a barrier from your visions of the world. It’s like snow without the joy and playfulness. I was finally up face to face with her. I noticed her eyes, red as if she was crying. She looked down sympathetically, and then looked back up so her eyes meet mine.
I knew something was coming.
“Ryan…” She said, putting her warm hand at the side of my face, rubbing it gently. She gave me a reassuring smile, which I returned.
She sighed, shaking her head.
“I still love you to death, but well.” She paused. “I feel like I need to move on.”
I gazed at her in shock. All the memories, our history together as children through adults flashed in front of my own eyes. I couldn’t believe this is happening. And I was thinking of proposing. The vision of us as husband and wife crashed and burned. Gone in seconds. My heart pounded so loudly, that I heard it beat over the rain. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I felt terrible, disappointed, put down, sick.
“How could you do this to me…? I had high hopes and dreams of us for the future.” She looked at me surprisingly, like if I took it a different way than she had expected me to.
“I thought I loved you.” My voice cracked on the last syllable.
Without thinking, I held her close and kiss her lips. She seemed like she’s in shock. After a half of a second, she backed away, pushing me off of her.
“Ryan…”
“I don’t care anymore Jenny. I never will!” Rain dripped from my hair and fell down to my face.
My anger frightened her. I don’t think she ever had seen me like this. Her eyes looked at my sympathetically, as if she felt sorry for me.
Jenny took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. Tears freely fell from her face. She took one final look over her shoulder.
“I still love you, Ryan Seacrest.”
She ran down the road in anger and rage.
After a few minutes of deafening silence, I walked down the street, looking for her.
“Jenny? JENNY!” I screamed out over the rain.
“I didn’t mean what I said!”
“Jenny! I’m sorry!”
I rested my head in my palms. I took a deep breath, and gazed down the road. She was gone. But she still loves me. I really messed this up, I thought. I made this a disaster. I began to pray in whispers.
“God, watch over Jenny. Please.”
I prayed softly, holding both my hands to my chest. I looked up to the rain falling from the dark, angry sky.
“Lord, what have I done?”
End Flashback
My eyes blink open in shock. Now I remember what happened.
“Tell me where she is!”
I scream loudly, killing the silence. A few officers hold me down as I try to kick.
“You can’t lie to us, you murderer!”
“I’M NOT A MURDERER!”
“TELL US THE TRUTH!”
“Please sir, I was with Jenny the night she ran away.”
I can see they aren’t believing me.
“She told me she loved me, but she wanted to move on.”
“Don’t lie—“
“LET ME FINISH!”
Hold the temper, Seacrest. Be calm.
“I got upset and told her I didn’t care, after I kissed her. She threw me off, and I blew up. Last thing I remember was that she ran away, not looking back.”
“Tell it to the judge.”
“Let me go! I didn’t do it! Please!”
All the officers grip me once more as I scream and kick.
“But didn’t get to tell her goodbye…”
For a moment, I see sympathy in one of the officer’s eyes. He looks down at me; with some sort of…is that a smile? Another officer elbows him.
Re: Jenny was a Friend of Mine (Ryan Fic) (PG-13/R)Chapter Two:A Visitor
I try to make myself comfortable on this small, metal ‘bed’. I clutch a flat ‘pillow’ to my chest and hold it to my body tightly. I close my grayish-hazel eyes as I breathe evenly into the ‘pillow’.
My mind reels off with questions:
Why am I here? How would anyone think I committed this crime? Is there anyone I could talk to? How am I going to fit in here?
The answers are nowhere to be found.
I turn back and fourth on the bed, frustrated. A man opens the ‘door’ to this little hell and walks half way into the room. Do people ever hear of knocking?
He throws me a plastic bag with some sort of orange outfit in it.
“… and what do I do with this?”
“Wear it.”
Orange is not my color. Reluctantly, I put the shirt on. He walks out of the room, slams the ‘door’, and walks away. God. Someone’s PMSing.
I button up the shirt ¾ of the way. A number is printed to the right of it in bold, black letters.
“924” I read aloud with a smirk. I sit back on the bed, rubbing my head with my hands.
Hours go by like minutes, minutes go by like seconds. A woman comes in the ‘room’ after a few hours of unnerving silence.
“You have a visitor.”
I rub my eyes and swing my legs over the edge of the ‘bed’. A visitor?
I walk out of the wide ‘door’, past the guards. The woman leads me to a small table with a familiar friend sitting in front of it. She looks up at me with a glare of fear in her eyes. I sit down on a cold, metal chair facing her.
“Paula?”
“Oh Ryan”
She reaches out to touch my hand.
“Hands on the table.” A guard commands from behind. She pulls her hand quickly, putting it down on the flat surface.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I swear Paula.”
“Ryan, be honest.”
“Paula! I didn’t murder Jenny! She’s my best friend! You know it! There’s no evidence to prove it!”
“Trust me. I’m not a criminal.” I manage to get out, fighting back my tears.
“You’re telling the truth. I can see it in your eyes.”
There are only two people who can see my emotions in my eyes, and those two people are my own mother and Paula. They say my eyes turn different shades to match my emotions.
When my eyes are shades of green, I show off all of my pride. I am happy, joyful, and loyal, sort of like a puppy.
When my eyes are shades of brown, I am hiding things from you. I have a secret, yet to be told. I am mischievous and full of curiosity.
When my eyes are shades of grey, I am not in the best of my spirits. I am sad, or something is hurting me emotionally. I need lots of comfort and support when these feelings come.
“Paula, you’re the first one who believes me. Thank you.”
I reach out to grab her hand.
“Hands on the table!”
This is really tuning into an episode of Desperate Housewives.
“Ryan, I was in the same situation as you with Corey, and I know how it feels. Everything will be okay.”
“No Paula, it won’t.”
“I promise Ryan. Everything will turn out fine. I’m going to hire you a lawyer when it’s time to go to court.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You will, when you’re out of this joint.”
I smile the first smile since this has all happened.
“Goodbye, Ryan.”
“Bye Paula.”
The same guard leads me back to my ‘room’ and I sit down on the bed.
“You know ma’am, I’m not a cr—“She slams the ‘door’ and walks down the hallway. I’ll save that for court day.
Everyone’s PMSing here, men and all.
I lay my body down on the ‘bed’. I finally close my eyes and drift off into a deep sleep.
Not even minutes later, I’m soon awoken by the glare of light coming from the ‘door’.
My heart drops in fear when I see who’s standing in the doorway.
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