Just Wrong

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            When Brook came back out in plaid, flannel pajamas, Nathan had lay down already and curled into a ball, scrunching the ironed sheets to wrap around him like a cocoon.

            Remembering what he had said about her, Brook stomped over to her snoozing fiancé and ripped the sheets right off of him. He tumbled to the floor, yet somehow landing on all four limbs like a cat.

            Nathan wordlessly straightened up and blinked his tired eyes in annoyance.

            “Why do you women have to be so violent, huh?” he muttered as he ripped the sheet out of her hands and threw it unceremoniously onto the bed.

            Brook quailed. How was she supposed to know that it’d get him so mad? Should she apologize? Despite having every reason to, Brook couldn’t bring herself to trample on her own pride and, instead, made things worse.

            “You owe me explanation, remember?”

            Nathan looked at the ceiling with uninterested eyes. “Oh, right,” he sighed absent-mindedly as he got back in bed, back against the headboard. “I was supposed to tell you…”

            Brook walked around the bed and got into bed with him. It felt awkward and tense, sitting by the jerk like they were actually lovers.

            “You don’t remember, do you?” Brook asked with irritation.

            “Not that I care, but no, I don’t,” Nathan drawled.

            “Your brother.”

            Nathan’s eyes darkened. “Oh, yeah. Will.”

            “Yes, Will,” Brook sighed with impatience. “Just spit it out already!”

            “And where the heck am I supposed to start?” he bit back.

            “Fine! I’ll just ask you a question and you’ll answer it, all right?”

            “Just hurry so I can go back to sleep already, indenture.”

            Brook swallowed the urge to scream in frustration. “Why didn’t he have black in his pupils if he was your brother?”

            “They were removed.”

            “Why? How?”

            Nathan glared at her with rising anger. “Doesn’t matter.”

            Brook stared. Of all the stupid men in the world-

            “Is this a joke?”

            “The only joke here is you, honey.”

            Brook wanted to slap the jerk and felt her blood boil in hot rushes.

            “What’s wrong with you?’ she demanded.

            Nathan scoffed. “Nothing wrong. This is just how I am.”

            “No, it’s not. You’re better that this.”

            “Oh really?” Nathan asked with a raised eyebrow. “And how would you know, princess?”

            Brook opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Nathan’s smirk grew wider.

            “That’s right; you know nothing about me, so don’t go assuming things, girl. I told you before; don’t flatter yourself.”

            Nathan emotionlessly watched the door slam shut and listened to Brook’s steps slowly fading away. He silently reached to turn off the light, the perfect mask of disinterest. Silence occupied his thoughts. He felt nothing. He saw nothing. And as his fingertips reached the lamp, Nathan suddenly found his fist had landed in the wall beside him.

            Flakes of the white plaster crumbled off from the edges of the hole and littered the carpet. The metal screen that supported the plaster was bent inward, shaping his fist like a mold.

            William watched his little brother from his perch on the wide branch of a pine tree about a mile away without blinking. He ran over the conversation they had with interest. So Brook was an indenture after all. He thought her pupils seemed weird.

            William wondered how the two would turn out if he just let them be as he soundlessly landed on the wet grass. The fight was an interesting one; he couldn’t tell who had been wrong.


he couldn't tell who was wrong in that argument; could you?

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