Flying (One Direction) N.H SEQUAL to FALLING

Chapter Ten

Brooke’s POV

It had been four long days since the disastrous death of one of my best friends, Taylor Alice Ryan. I was currently sitting in the window seat, wearing a pair of my thick grey sweats, and her favourite Nirvana sweatshirt. Staring bleakly out of the glass, and watching the pouring rain drum onto every surface it could get it’s grasp on.

“Lee.” I didn’t bother to move my head—to let him know I was listening to him— I just pressed my forehead against the cool glass. “It’s been four days. You can’t keep going like this. You just can’t.”

“What am I supposed to do?!” I suddenly exploded, jumping off my window seat, and stared at my twin with furious rage burning red hot in my hazel orbs.

“You need to live! You know that’s what she’d want!” James snapped right back at me.

“What’s the point if she’s not here, huh?! She’s not gonna know if I’m moping about or not, cos SHE’S NOT HERE!” I screamed in complete agony. “YOU WEREN’T THE ONE TO SPEND HER LAST LIVING MINUTES WITH HER, TO SEE THE LIFE JUST… EVAPORATE! POOF! GONE! JUST. LIKE. THAT!”

“Yeah, she’s not here! And the reason you couldn’t spend the last few months with her, was because you were being mopey, and stubborn—completely ignoring our friends, when you know you mean the world to them!” James shouted, getting extremely close to my face. I could see the redness of his cheeks. “Grow up!” James snapped, and stomped out of my room furiously.

I sunk to the floor, with my hands tangled in my hair, with the tears completely pouring my cheeks; screaming wordlessly. I was furious, heartbroken, miserable, did I mention furious? Who does he think he is, telling me to just go about my usual lifestyle like nothing happened? Like she didn’t mean the world to either of us? James and I never fought, ever.

And just like that, I stopped crying. Just like a tap, they just…. stopped coming. I sat up from my foetal position on the floor, and wiped my blotchy face with the back of my hand. I pulled my knotty hair into a high messy bun on the top of my head.

I stood up, and stared at myself through the mirror, and balled my hands into fists. I just had so much fury and rage at life swimming through my veins, and I needed to do something to relive the ache.

I stomped to my bureau, and pulled out a pair of designer leggings and a black sports bra, and a white woollen jumper. I quickly changed out of my sloppy lazy day pyjamas, and into my sporty outfit. I quickly slipped on a pair of plain black converses, and sprinted out of my bedroom, and down the stairs as quickly as I could.

I picked up the keys to the sapphire blue sports car that belongs to every member in our family—but mainly me. I scribbled a quick note in case any of my parents came home early.

Gone out, home soon! xox

~Brooke

Seems good enough. I quickly ran out of the house—being careful to lock the front door first—and ran through the rain, towards the blue sports car parked on the curb of our house. I started up the beautiful car quickly and revved the engine, speeding down the wet street.

I finally reached my destination—the local Gym. I parked the car in the almost vacant car park, and quickly jogged into the warm foyer. After signing in with my old, renewed membership card, I immediately approached the heavy boxing bag.

I began pounding the object—punching it with all the emotions I had kept bottled inside all these months; rage at James, heartbreak for Taylor, guilt for my parents. I narrowed my eyes in concentration, as I stared at the big red bag with loathing. I forgot how long I was there—punching the bag with all my might