Tate

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I woke up the next morning to find that my room was trashed. Shattered glass spread out over my floor, digging into the carpet. The copy of Vincent Van Go's "A Starry Night" was ripped from the broken frame. Dried droplets of blood still sat on my bathroom floor. And I knew I had to get a new lamp. The lamp shade was bent and ripped. The lightbulb was broken along with the lamp's stand. I didn't even care that my dad would be upset about the hole in the wall. Once he finds out why I did it, he'll keep his mouth shut, clean up my room, and leave me alone. That was a good thing, but I didn't want to see anybody.

I checked the time, 11:43am.

He'll be home tonight and I should spend the day cleaning my house. I'm too depressed to move, so he's going to have to deal with it. He'll kick my ass until he hears about Brooke. He's so black and white. I don't know how much sympathy or ass kicking I'll get.

It was Monday and quiet. The house felt empty even though red cups hid the floor and the smell of alcohol stunk up the kitchen, obviously people had been here. I didn't bother to set an alarm for school. I think anybody that knew Brooke is crying in bed right now.

Shelly. I should call her.

Grabbing my phone off of the table next to my bed, I unlocked it. Tapping my fingers along the screen, I found her contact information and clicked call. The phone went straight to voicemail. I don't blame her.

A ding echoed through the house, making my eyes widen. Who on earth could be coming to my fucking door right now? This is wrong timing and I can feel my face turning red. I took my time walking down the stairs, they're bothering me so they can wait. As I approached the door, I realized I was wearing the same clothes I wore at the party, a green crop top and leggings. I sniffed my top and my face scrunched up. Gross. I needed to shower. I unlocked the door and turned the handle. I swung it open, "What the fuck do you want?" attitude laced in my voice.

My angry expression softened when I realized who it was.

"I feel that," Shelly giggled sadly.

"I'm so—"

"Don't apologize, I would've said the same thing." Her eyes began to water and I immediately pulled her into a hug. She sobbed on my shoulder and I held back my tears.

"Do you remember how much Brooke hated to see us cry?" I whispered.

Shelly instantly pulled away, wiping her cheeks and fixing her blonde hair. "We need to stop being emotional." She tried to laugh it off but both of us knew that wouldn't help.

We stared at each other for a moment. Shelly is obsessed with her hair and it looked like it hadn't been touched. Her eyeliner and mascara covered most of her face. I don't think she's looked in the mirror. She wore the same pants from the party and one of Brooke's shirts that must've been left at Shelly's house.

I could tell Shelly noticed that I hadn't kept myself together either.

I stepped aside, gesturing for her to walk in. She slowly walked in, scanning the house. "I don't even want to be here but I wanted to see you." She whispered.

My house was the last place both of us saw Brooke. It felt cold, haunted.

"I tried to call you," I responded, my head down and eyes at my feet.

"I won't be using my phone for a while."

"I feel that. I shouldn't either." I looked up and found her staring at my living room. The couches were pushed to the side for room to dance.