The Step Brother

Pain & Rain

so here we go. the first chapter. i think this is more of a prolouge, because in the story Brooke is already 16. so uhm yeah, enjoyy! maybe i'll have more up today. i'll see if i can finish my math. lawls. <3 

dedicated to Magicstudy because she made the cover (:

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When I was younger, I adored rain. The word never had a negative connotation with me. The soft pitter-patter calmed me and comforted me like a soft blanket, or a mother's caring touch.  It drove me into a calmer mental state where I could just relax and think, without really doing much at all. I could stare out my window for hours on end, just watching the droplets fall from the sky. Some caught onto my window, and then I loved to observe them trickle down, quickly loosing themselves in a deeper pond. We were all raindrops, in a sense. We fell. We all had something in common. We were part of something bigger; something more infinite.

On a more personal note, I believed that rain was earth’s way of reminding us that it’s okay to cry.  It rained the day of my father’s funeral, and it almost felt comforting, not depressing. There, there, Mother Nature murmured to me especially that day, everybody wants happiness, but no one wants pain. Yet you can’t make a rainbow, without a little rain. 

See, but here’s the thing. Everyone always insists that after a rainstorm, there’s going to be a rainbow. Everyone always insists that things can only go down so much, before they start to get better. But I think we all forget that sometimes, after rain, it doesn’t clear up. Sometimes, you can get fog miles wide and feet thick.

In Washington, fog follows us around relentlessly. One night in particular, after a small spring shower, it attacked our county. This fog was so thick, newscasts advised civilians to stay at home. My dad was at work, so he had no choice but to drive. 

The truck collided into the driver’s side. We got the news just as the fog had cleared up. According to the doctors, my father had died instantly.

I never liked rain again.

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The funeral broke me. I didn’t utter a single word. I refused to say anything about my father in front of my other relatives. Instead, I stared at my mother mutely as she gave her speech. The wind was strong, and I recall her voice being lost multiple times in it. My thin black dress didn’t protect me from the elements very well, but I didn’t shiver. My eyes were transfixed at the large wooden coffin. I refused to acknowledge that it was the resting place of my father.

It’s a mistake. They made a mistake. This is all just a big mistake.

 It wasn’t, however.

After the casket had been lowered, all the mourners shuffled towards the dining hall. I lingered behind, staring at my father’s stone. A single tear fell down my face, quickly blending in with the tears that fell from the sky. My finger traced over the cold, lifeless marble and finally I shivered.

Reality hit me hard then. My father was gone. Gone. He wouldn’t be there to witness me graduate middle school. He wouldn’t be there to teach me how to parallel park. He wouldn’t see me graduate from high school, or see me in a dress as I got ready for prom. There would never be a chance for him to meet my boyfriend, and he wouldn’t lead me down the aisle when I got married. I sobbed quietly, falling to my knees. I had just lost one of the biggest figures in my life, and it killed me.

A warm hand rubbed my back softly. I craned my neck around and looked into the tender eyes of my grandmother. She smiled softly, brushing hair out of my eyes and tilting my chin up.

“Brooke, remember one thing. It always rains on the people that deserve the most sun.”