Finding Your Way Through

Chapter 4- Secrets

"What did you see?" With such eerie calm Bethany spoke.

"What makes you think I saw anything?"

Sighing, Bethany helped her daughter get up, as they nonchalantly made their way to the couch, casually sitting down, as if it were any Tuesday evening. Bethany observed Brooke, as she placed her two hands on the temples of her head, rubbing at it gently, as if to soothe some pain.

The late thirty aged woman knew all about pain.

"What did you see?" She repeated herself. A minute, longer than certain hours, passed by; hazel and brown meeting gazes. At last, when the younger female finally gave in to pitch her experience, the older one cut her off.

"It's hard honey." She said. "Not only for me, but for you too. Trust me, I know it's hard."

"What is?" Brooke' s voice came out hoarse, the voice of a young girl who had been screaming for hours. She could hear it herself.

"Life. Secrets. Memories." The words were each an exasperated sigh. Each a sign of having given up after a long fight. A long battle with yourself. "It's so hard, to pretend to live in normalcy, knowing very well that nothing, to no extent is in the slightest bit alright."

The birthday girl shifted in her seat, discomfort chilling her bones. "What do you mean Mom? Talking in riddles, explaining yourself as if you were a Rubik's cube I had to figure out... as if you wanted to tell me something, but couldn't quite form the words. Couldn't directly let me know what it is you want me to know."

Brooke's voice wavered, her voice filled with so much tension, she had to stand up; but a wave of shock at the sudden movement flowed through her head, as she collapsed back onto the couch.

"Look Brooke. There are things that need not be explained at the moment. Things you'll figure out th-"

"What things Mom?! Remember the last time you tried to let me 'figure' things out for myself? Remember where I ended up?"

Bethany's flinch couldn't exactly be called that. It was an entire reel back. As if she had been physically pushed. Her eyes widened, pooling in clouds of  terror, shock, horror: Haunted. Her eyes were the incarnation of haunted.

A guilty triumph washed over Brooke at that. 

"Anabelle..." her mother drawled. She never called her Anabelle. "I have tried and failed to protect you multiple times in life. Being stubborn and adding to the guilt and burden I constantly wear will do you nor I any good. I am telling you this one time only. I can't risk repeating myself. Things are happening. Things you need dont need to know about now, but later will come up. It's no use throwing an entire history and responsibility on you, especially not on your birthday."

Brooke was confused. It was more than evident, that Brooke was confused, but wouldn't allow her mother to know so. She will understand it herself; she kept thinking. She will uncover whatever her mother is hiding, and make sense of it, for she needed to know.

A breeze, that had nothing to do with the cold outside, brushed over her, as she shivered.

"So for tonight honey, get some rest. Lay down and enjoy being a child while it lasts."

● ● ● ● ●

"I can't take much of it really."

"I know the feeling all too well."

He couldn't explain it. She was the one who called, just as he was letting the blanket of sleep wash over him. He was the one reassuring, being her shoulder to cry on as always.

Yet instead, she was lifting him up. The mere fact that she called. Wether it was to laugh with him or cry out in anger, Brooke always lightened up the darkest hours of his days. Perhaps that's why they were best friends.

Best friends. 

The words echoed through him in mockery. So much past, so much history behind best friends. So much hurt, pain, joy, sadness, jokes. So much life.

Their story wouldn't be the cliche though, he thought. It wouldn't be the typical replica of a love triangle between some boy who entered Brooke' s life and baffled everything. She wouldn't fall for him and be forced to pick between her brotherly figure and new lover.

Their story was a whole lot more complicated, a whole lot worth reading.

"It's terrifying. It's this sort of chill I've always read about; never believed in. Literal ice in your bones, killing away all signs of warmth. She's hiding things again Justin." he could see her in his mind, running her fingers through her hair in anxiety, unable to tend to a chosen spot. Fretting in all sorts of directions in her room.

"What sorts of things?" He couldn't quite believe his own voice. It sounded so calming, even to his own ears.

"The kind she thinks are meant to protect me, but rather end up destroying everything."

"You really tend to over exaggerate Broken B."

"Maybe. Should I instead use 'rattle?' or 'shake?' you know how ending up dead in a ditch is just a minor misunderstanding." it simply rolled off her like a second language her sarcasm.

"You know how getting tortured for eternity is just a small conflict, so I don't see your point." He never gave in. Not to her twisted jokes, or accusational stubbornness to let go of her pride and admit her wrongness.

"Can't you just laugh dryly like a normal person?"

"I would rather torture you using your own instrument." He heard shuffling on the other line; She was trying to get comfortable.

"I'm scared."

It was not something she loved admitting. Brooke loved his comfort. Loved feeling vulnerable with him. He knew that, but never took advantage. After all... how could he?

"It won't happen again. I give you my word. Remember who you are Broken B. Nothing will get to you, unless you allow it. Unless I allow it. This could very well be minor spiritual activity. Nothing we've never faced before."

A sigh.

Then, "You're right. But if that were the case, I doubt she would be so sceptic. Justin this isn't a common spiritual malfunction! I fear he's back again!" he voice wasn't mocking anymore, it had turned to panic.

He suddenly wished with guilt he could be with her, soothe her down, calm her nerves. Hold her while he whispered to her the truth: life's screwed but she can handle it.

This was his childhood companion, lifelong mate, damsel in distress. His Broken B. He felt a fierce protection over her, one he was compelled to fulfill.

"Sleep B. Close your eyes and forget the world. Keep your phone on, I'll sing to you, until there's nothing you have to worry about but dreams." he closed his own eyes, but didn't hear anything else. She'd nodded. He just knew it, the same way he knew the trace and patterns of skin and veins on the back of his hand.

So when there was nothing but the sound of her breathing, Justin Barton sang.