The Wires Case [ h.s ]

Chapter 64

did last chapter made any sense? cause honestly I don't really know and my head is a mess

Harry Styles

Driving towards Brooke house felt so fucking wrong. It made an uneasy feeling appear in my gut and leave my body with an uncomfortable tingle.

Knowing the hideouts that the Wires mansion holded, I wasn't a big fan of going there anymore. Especially since I'm not doing anything to resolve all this mess. Taking recall in all the times I've spent there, a shiver runs over my spine because I was clueless of where I was going before, and where I had stayed.

But now, I'm aware. And I'm going to a fucking crime scene.

Taking a quick glance to my side, Brooke is sitting on the passengers side, earphones in her eras at full blast as she stares out the window.

Waking up this morning, the last thing I expected was to see Brooke out of bed. After the night we had, I assumed she would continue to lay down, especially since I could tell her depression got worse overnight.

I'll never forget how helpless I felt when she hurted herself. It's easier to believe that the right thing to do it's stop someone from self harming, but it messes with your head the way they plead you to let them do it so they will no longer feel pain anymore. The way she passed out from fatigue and pain made my heart ache for this girl. Only eighteen years old, and she has suffered more than I'll ever do.

The second she came down to the kitchen, I could tell something was wrong with her. She might have felt like normal, like nothing was out of the ordinary, but I had seen it in her eyes. In the way her pupils were extremely dilated that she was clouded with bad thoughts.

With hopeless thoughts.

That's why we're going to her house. Because she needs to get back on her medication.

Although I won't lie and deny that Brooke has looked more alive when she was off the hook, it wasn't her real self. Mentally, she was not here. She hasn't been with me since she got out of the hospital, and left her mind to take over her consciousness.

That's why I knew, when she was saying all of that to me before about wanting to let everything go, that it isn't what she wanted. Because I can recall like the back of my hand the conversation that we had the same night I discovered the truth of the Wires case.

"What is it that you want, Brooke?"

All red and puffy eyes, she wiped away the tears on her cheeks, "I want to be with you, but it's not fair—"

"Stop." I said, "Forget about others for once. Forget about what you think is best for me, and tell me, what do you want?"

Staring back at me in silence for a few seconds, she then whispered, "I want you. I just want to be with you."

Putting my hand on her cheek softly, as we both layed down on my bed naked, I smiled, "Good. Because I want you too. I love you, Brooke."

She nuzzled against my hand and moved closer to me, "I love you too," She said, noses touching, "And it's the realest thing I feel."

Therefore, maybe I was wrong to tell her it wasn't her talking, but her depression. But I don't want to change anything when I know she's not conscious. That may make me a bad person, but I've never been anything else to begin with.

Parking in front of her house, I take a deep breath before staring at the mansion. Brooke does the same, keeping her eyes on the house that holds her childhood and her worst moments ever.