Brooklyn Andrews just moved to California, leaving her old life, family, friends- and most importantly, her boyfriend Logan behind. After leaving Logan, and after the death of her mother- Brooklyn just needs something sweet in her life. Passing o...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A U T H O R' S N O T E Here it is, Chapter 4! I'd love to hear what you guys think about it. The journey so far for this story has been amazing and I can't believe it already has over 150 views! That means the world to me. Constructive criticism would be amazing!! Thank you for taking the time to read this story. If you would like me to follow you or read/vote on one of your stories, leave a comment or PM me. I'd be happy to, because you reading this story means everything to me. *** I let the tears spill over my cheeks, my mascara probably leaking down my face with it. I finally let the tears go that I had been holding in since Mom died. I didn't cry when we buried her. Dad was too wrapped up in his own grief. He didn't need my pain as a burden. I didn't cry when I waved to Logan from the car door. I didn't want to make it harder for us to leave each other than it already was. People walked past me, some sending me concerned looks- some looking the other way with the intention of not having to deal with it. Because that's what people did. They just looked away instead of helping. And I got that, I did. I did the same thing more often than not. A few minutes later, a felt the bench creak beside me. It was Dad. I turned my face away from him, hair soaking wet by this point. Dad just sat there, waiting for me to get myself together. People still walked by us, but I didn't pay attention to them. Eventually, my soft sobbing died down to soft hiccups. Dad brushed my wet hair out of my eyes and offered me my sweatshirt I had left inside. I slipped it on, wrapping my arms around myself. Dad looked at me, his eyes filled with such sorrow I had never seen in them before. "Brooklyn," He muttered softly, prompting me to look at him. "Brooklyn, look. I need you to understand, okay? It's not that I want you to leave home, I don't, okay? I don't want you to have to leave Logan." "Then why are we going?" I muttered childishly. "Because I was offered a job there," he replied, looking down in embarrassment once more, yet for a different reason. "You already have a great one!" I retorted, rolling my eyes. Excuses, excuses. "No, Brooklyn. I lost it," Dad shook he head. "I...got angry. After Mom. All I could think about was what I could have done better. And that blew up in my face, and everyone else's." I felt sympathy overwhelm me. I had just experienced something similar. I knew that I still had to stick together with my family, no matter what. Dad needed this, and maybe a breath of fresh air would do me some good as well. It would hurt a ton, but maybe Logan and I would move near each other in a couple years again Yeah. He wasn't dying. I could do this. "Okay, Dad." He looked up at me in surprise. "Are you sure?" "Yeah," I replied, wiping the tears off my face with my sweatshirt. "Now, come on, I'm hungry!" Dad looked pleased, and I was happy to have been the one to put the smile on his face. We stepped back inside and I sat down, sipping on my Coke- this time the memory of Mom feeling lighter inside. The waitress groaned from the corner, but I ignored her. If she didn't want a tip, so be it. I bit into my burger. It was so delicious. I hungrily took another bite. I soon devoured about half the burger. Suddenly, I began to cough and cough, feeling my throat close up. I wheezed for breath, and I keeled over, my mouth beyond itchy. I reached up to my face and felt a small bump there. Choking on the breath I didn't have, Dad kneeled down beside me. "CALL 911!" The waitress, previously being a jerk, now looked worried and grabbed the phone to do so. People huddled around me. I felt Dad run away, and some other man grasped my arms. "You're gonna be okay, it's okay." The last thing I felt before I went under was the sharp pinch of a needle into my leg, and the last thing I heard was Dad's yell.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
