* This chapter has been re-written and some events have changed. *
Chapter Eight
My iPhone blares loudly beside me, making me groan as I pull the pillow over my ears. It felt as if someone had beaten me over the head with a 4X4 the night before.
When the ringing stopped, I lay still for a moment longer, not wanting to subject my eyes to the bright sunlight that beamed through my windows. Blindly, I reach a hand out, patting around until my fingers find the cool, metal device. I wince that the brightness, immediately sliding the control panel down to turn down the brightness.
The screen is filled with missed notifications, calls, texts, social media. Both of their names beam at me and my churning stomach clenches.
Wendy, and my father.
Did they know we went to a party last night? Are they mad?
Was something wrong?
Dad: Call me.
Dad: Brook, this is urgent.
Dad: It's about your mother.
Sitting up quickly, the pillow falls into my lap. Ignoring the need to be sick from both the text message, and last night's escapades, I quickly selected his name in the call log.
He picks up on the first ring, obviously waiting for me to return his call.
"Brook,"
"Where is she? Are you with her now?" My feet pace across the bedroom, back and forth quickly as I chew my nails, waiting for his response.
"Something's happened-.."
"What's the matter? What happened?" The questions are flying from my lips, breaking him off without intention as I ramble in a panic.
"Brooklyn, listen to me." His tone was firm, but behind it, I could hear the words were slightly broken coming from his mouth.
I stop pacing, my teeth remain still from nibbling at my nails. The grip I have on the iPhone is so tight I wait for the screen to cave in.
"We found your mother in a hotel about two hours away from your old apartment." His voice trails, notifying me that there was more to the sentence, he just wasn't wanting to finish.
"She's dead Brook." His voice falters, running goosebumps down my spine and my entire body freezes. My stomach lurchers, swallowing hard, I resist the urge to empty my stomach onto the wooden floor. "She hung herself."
"No, are you sure that was her? Did you see her? Maybe it was a mistake-..."
"I went down and identified her after they called, it was her."
She hung herself.
"Let me come, let me make sure that it was her. Please, I have to make sure-.."
"Brook, listen to me." His voice shakes slightly, trying to break through my reeling mind. "I went down there, I looked. I don't want this to be true anymore than you do, but it was her."
She hung herself.
"Dad, please. It's not her, it can't be her." The sob escapes my lips and I finger press my fingers against them, as if holding them shut. My eyes sting with unwanted tears, overflowing onto my cheeks.
"I'm unbelievably sorry."
I feel my legs give out from under me, making me land heavily onto my knees. The phone slides from my grasp, clattering to the floor.
"Brooklyn?" Rodger appears in the doorway, his eyebrows drawn down as he takes in my appearance. He steps inside, taking a few strides towards me and I bounce to my feet.
"Get out." I choking, placing a firm hand on his chest and I direct him backwards to the hallway, slamming the door and locking it behind him.
*
I could smell her.
The sweet sweet smell of lavender drifts through my nostrils as we sit side-by-side on the warm park bench. She reaches into the loaf of bread placed between us, and gradually breaks apart a few slices for the ducks by our feet.
They quack softly as they stuff their beaks with the soft white bread, making her smile to herself silently.
"Oh, Brooklyn." She sighs, my eyes finding her now staring blankly ahead of her. The sun reflects off the water of the pond in front of us, shining onto her cheeks. Her hand slides across the park bench, covering mine as she grabs my hand in hers.
She turns to me, her green eyes meeting mine and her lips tilt into a small smile.
"You couldn't save me."
*
Eyes flying open, and a gasp escaping my lips, I find myself in the now familiar room of the Parker house.. My skin was coated in a cold sweat, heart pounding almost painfully in my chest as the blood courses through my veins.
"Brooklyn, honey?" Wendy's soft words drift through the wooden door while she stands on the other side. "I have some lunch here, are you hungry?"
My stomach was churning, finding food to be the most unappealing.
"No thank you." I find the words, pulling my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around them tightly.
"Do you want some company? We could watch a movie-..."
"I'm just really tired, Wendy." I press my eyes into my knees, bearing away the tears that burn them.
She says something more about coming back later but I allow her to walk away from the door without more shared words.
*
I spend the rest of the day watching the light change as the time grows later, curled into the tightest ball I could manage. The sobs racked my body as the hours passed, now making my throat rasping and eyes dry.
The sound of the others rambling around downstairs can be heard in my silent room, strangling quieter than it usually was.
My phone had chimed about fifty times, making me turn it on silence to avoid hearing the annoying notification.
When the sky has turned dark, and the smell of dinner drifts upstairs, there is another knock on the door.
"I have dinner. Are you hungry?" Rodger asks, his question being said in a gentle tone.
"No." I answer, my voice muffle as I hide under the blankets from the outside world.
"You haven't eaten all day, I think you're probably at least a little hungry."
"I'm not hungry, Rodger. Thank you." I peak an eye out from the blanket, finding the shadow of his figure still standing at the door.
"Brook, open the door." His tone was more assertive this time, and I hear the doorknob rattle slightly.
I continue to watch as he stands there a moment more, the soft sound of a plate being set down on the wooden floor chimes through the hallway, and his footsteps retreat from the door. Throwing the blankets over my head, knowing I was now alone, I shut my eyes and rub my temples with my fingertips.
A soft scratching sound jumps through the quiet room, followed by a click. The door squeaks open and I yank the blankets away from my face. Rodger bends down, picking the plate of food up from the floor.
"What're you doing-.." I sit up, my feet hitting the floor quickly.
"Sit down." He pulls the desk chair out for me, placing the plate and a bottle of water on the surface of the desk. Gesturing for the chair, he looks from it, to me.
"I said I wasn't hungry."
"I heard what you said." His replies were coming quick, making it obvious this was going to be a battle.
"Haven't you heard of giving someone space?" My tone comes out snappier than I intend for it to, making him raise a question eyebrow.
"You're in the Parker house now, that doesn't exist here." He glances at the plate once more. "I really don't want to hand feed Wendy's spaghetti to you, but I will if I have to."
"Alright, fine." I toss my hands in defeat, taking a seat at the desk.
Spinning the noodles around the fork, I place a bite into my mouth and begin chewing slowly. I can feel his eyes burning through me, swallowing the bite I had taken, I look to him and raise my shoulders questioningly.
"Are you going to stand there the entire time?"
He shrugs, now turning away from me while he pads around my room. His eyes glide over the photographs, and then to my rock collection.
"Just thought I would stick around so I could take your plate down when you're finished." One by one, he picks up each rock, examining the uniqueness of each one.
We remain silent as I slowly clear the plate, finding that I was in fact hungrier than I thought. He grabs the plate turning to the door to make his way back downstairs.
"Thank you." I tell him, making him hover in the doorway for a moment.
His head tilts briefly, as if there was something he was going to say over his shoulder. Yet, he doesn't say another word, instead he continues to lock back the door he had so easily broken into with a debit card, and close it behind him.