𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐂 ❶

𝟔𝟓. ✭ 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 ✭

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap.

"Brooks?" My name sounded far away in my ears, muffled somewhat, like I'm underwater. "Brooks?" I blink a few times and look in the direction of the voice. "Brooks, your phone is going off." That last bit sounded completely normal. I'm officially brought back to reality. I grab the device out of my pocket and eye Torey's name on the screen. "Who is it?" Luke is quick to ask. "Is it Torey?" I give him a quick nod before picking up the phone.

"Torey?" I can feel all eyes in the room on me.

"Broo—" A series of hard wet coughs have me pushing out of my seat and standing. I've heard those kinds of coughs before. "Daaani..." He chokes slightly again. "Sheahcapchada." I can't make out what he's trying to say through is garbling.

"What? Is everything alright?" I have a feeling something is very wrong and the look on Luke's face says he expected as much.

"Stabbed." The word was clear as day. "I've been stabbed."

"You've been stabbed?!" I blurted out in complete panic, my own personal trauma getting the better of me trying to keep my calm. "Where's Dani? Where's Wolf?" Everyone in the room begins to erupt at my words, so much so that I can barely hear the man on the other end of the line. I plug one ear so I can hear him. "Torey?! Torey?!"

There's a raspy coughing noise before, "jussss," more coughing and choking, "jussss keep 'em safe. Sorry." There's a clattering noise which lets me know Torey has probably dropped the phone but I can't help but scream out his name a few more times, tell him to pick up the phone repetitively. I'm met with nothing but the sounds of his heavy rasping breathing. "Torey, don't you fucking die on me." I murmur under my breath before screaming, "don't you dare leave! Don't you give up!"

"I wish I didn't have to." He answered before his labored breaths begin to slow. Trepidation rips down my spine when I can't hear him breathing anymore which elevates when I hear the sound of other voices entering the room.

"There he is! There he is!" The voices call as feet marching closer to him sound through the receiver. "Torey? Can you hear me, Torey? Fuck, he's in bad shape." I close my eyes as they begin working over his body, assessing his wounds aloud. After hearing the amount of stab wounds he'd received I drop the phone and collapse in the chair I'd recently stood from.

"Brooks?! Brooks?! What happened?! What's going on?!" I can't look at her. I can't look at his mother with what I know will be the outcome. "Please." She grabs my face in her hands, making me look at her. I'm met with Torey's same eyes which has me swallowing the immense amount of emotion welling inside of me as I shake my head at her. "No." Tears immediately sheen her bright orbs. "No!" When she pulls away from me with a strangled sob I let my head fall in my hands.

"Mal?! Luke?!" Denver's usually mischievous voice is full of panic. "What's happened?" Malyssa's answering sob has one of his own choking out of him. The both of them are seemingly lost while Luke's voice barks out orders and commands. His tone void of emotion, full of control. I imagine him wearing out the floor as he paces about the room determinedly.

I close my eyes as my ears begin to ring, cancelling out all of the other noises in the room. Flashes flare across the lids of my eyes bringing me back in time.

It was a hot summer day, one of the hottest we'd experienced all season. The day had left my skin even darker than it already had been, slightly burnt, even. It was the skin of a farming boy, as my father had called it. It's what he had been when he was younger, it's what he still was.

The smell of my own sweat and dirt had lingered in my nose and on my skin, as well as the dry summer heat as I'd climbed up the concrete steps to the single-wide trailer home. Exhaustion sat deep in my sixteen-year-old bones but we'd had bills to pay, groceries to be bought. Even though my father referred to me as 'boy' I was a man in his eyes.

"Mama?" I'd called out as the screen door snapped back into place. "Mama?" I'd heard the faint noise of music playing off on the other end of the house. It was a song my father often listened to when he'd drink too much; Big River by Johnny Cash. He'd usually be belting out the lyrics and, on occasion, while he'd belt the rest of us. But now the home was silent other than Johnny's monotonous baritone.

'A freighter said she's been here, but she's gone boy she's gone.'

"Matthew? Sis?" I called out.

'I found her trail in Memphis, but she just walked up the bluff.'

"Pa?"

'She raised a few eyebrows and went on down alone.'

I walked until my feet carried me into the kitchen where I'd been met with my father's seated back. From what I could see, his hand was wrapped around a clear bottle and a cigarette was burning in his other but, what was not missed by me at all, was the blood that coated each. The closer I got I could smell the tang of it in the air. It was metallic and pungent on the tongue.

"Boy, you finally home?" I didn't answer as I slowly strode forward, each step showing me the horror at my father's feet; my mother's lifeless body. "I asked you a fucking question, Boy. I expect an answer."

"Mama?" I'd cried out as I'd ran toward her body, not listening to my father. "Mama?!" I dropped down to her body which was surrounded in a pool of her own blood. "What'd you do, Pa?! What'd you do?!"

"You know your Mama, she just don't know how to listen and your brother just doesn't know when to quit."

"Matty?!" I'd called out his name several more times loudly, getting nothing in return.

"Would you keep it the fuck down, Brooks? I'm trying to listen to some music. Unless you want to end up like him." My gaze had flicked to his incredulously. His head was hanging, bobbing from side to side to the strumming of the guitar.

'And the tears that I cried for that woman are going to flood you big river. And I'm going to sit here until I die.'

I'd slowly gotten to my feet and made myself stumble to the room I had shared with my seven-year-old baby brother. There he'd been, splayed out on the carpet. It was clear by his tiny brutalized body that my father had beaten him to death. When I'd gone to cover my mouth with my hand I'd smeared my mother's blood on my face, nearly in my mouth, making me vomit directly after.

"Boy, don't tell me you just ruined that carpet! I swear to Christ as my witness I will kill you if you've stained that fucking carpet!" The chair had screeched against the linoleum and his heavy footsteps made their way toward me as I looked for something, anything to defend myself. And there it had been— my baseball bat. 

I'd spun around just before he'd entered and had fought for my life with each swing once he had. Then, with everything in me, I had battered my father until he was as lifeless as my mother and brother. All the while, Johnny Cash's voice serenaded me, sang me through every broken bone I'd given him and every crack of his skull.

I push away from the table and stand up out of my seat without a word and head for the door. I hear my name being called several times but I don't turn around, nor do I listen. There's nothing in my ears except for that same old murderous song, lulling me to what will surely be a path of destruction.

A/N:
That got pretty dark. I know I've hinted at Brooks having a bad past throughout the book. Who thought it was going to be anything like that?