Songs for this chapter are:
She Will Be Loved - Maroon 5
Let Her Go - Passenger
Pompeii - Bastille
Brooke ran off down the stairs, and just as I was about to follow her, a hand wrapped around my wrist.
"That poor girl," Kat shook her head, pity swelling in her dark blue eyes. I turned to face her.
"She's perfectly fine," I argued. I knew she wasn't fine, but I couldn't possibly think of any reason why she was mad at me. Kat threw her head back and laughed. I narrowed my eyes at her, I knew Brooke was fine, and that's all the mattered. I was the only one who mattered to Brooke.
"She's utterly broken. She's exhausted and all she needs is someone to take care of her." Kat shook her head again, pursing her lips. I suppose she was going to be a good therapist.
"Who the fuck do you think you are? Sherlock Holmes?" I scoffed.
"Are you blind? Or are you just defiant?" I didn't answer, causing Kat to smirk. "Let's go with the second option."
"She wouldn't tell me why she was upset." My hand balled into a fist. "So what do you expect me to do? She hides everything from me, she doesn't trust me."
"And I wonder why that is," she said sarcastically.
"I've given her nothing but love and strength."
"No, you've given her nothing more than pain and depression." Kat retorts. Pain? Depression? No way, Brooke is so strong.
"No," I shook my head at Kat's ridiculous idea. "She's one of the strongest people I know."
"She's one of the most sensitive, insecure girls I've ever met. She's so broken and tired, and you've done nothing to fix it. I met this girl less than five hours ago; and I know more about her than you do." Kat's index finger pokes me in the chest, forcing me to take a step backwards. I knew Brooke was sensitive, but she's not broken. Right?
"She's not broken," I said to Kat, but I was mainly saying it to convince myself.
"Take better care of her, Justin." And with that, Kat went back into her room, locking her door. I took fantastic care of her, Kat didn't know what she was talking about.
All of Kat's words flooded back into my mind. If she was broken, it couldn't have been me that broke her, right? She was probably already depressed before I claimed her.
I probably made her happier.
Even you know that's not true, Justin.
I swore under my breath, slamming my fist into the wall. It cracked, creating a large hole. My knuckles started to bleed, as they had multiple pieces of dry wall wedged into them. I shook my hand, hoping to ease some of the pain. I would have gone to clean the wound; but Brooke was much more important.
I slowly creeped down the stairs, walking into the living room. Brooke was lying on the couch, a couple of blankets surrounding her small body. The sight brought tears to my eyes, and certainly not happy tears.
She was alone. So, so alone. I wasn't there, Kiera wasn't there, no one was there. Her cheeks were stained with dry tears, and her hand were still shaking. She's so utterly fragile and I keep forgetting that. I broke her. I broke this strong, healthy woman and turned her into a scared, insecure girl.