Twisted Fate by Ava Williams (top 100 books of all time checklist txt) 📖

get out of my business."

Brook glared at the dumbstruck blond and shook his hold off. She ran towards her house, stopped outside the blue Victorian home and sighed. Why couldn't anyone just leave her alone? Grumbling under her breath, Brook fished her keys out of pocket and made to unlock the door when it flew open and her Dad stormed past her. Brook's mother, Amanda, appeared in the archway, face flushed red and hands balled. She pushed Brook to the side and yelled out a string of curses as the retreating figure of James Jones.

"Don't you dare come back you fucking bastard!" Amanda screamed. "Don't you ever show your fucking face in my house again!"

Brook stood stock still, then frowned, shook her head and stepped inside the house. She pulled off her sneakers, threw her keys on the table next to the coat hanger and muttered to herself, "Welcome home." She could hear her mother's angry screams being overwhelmed with tears of anguish, or maybe anger. Brook could no longer tell the difference. Making her way upstairs she walked into her bedroom, closed and locked the door behind her, and sat down in front of her hair dresser. She opened one of the drawers on the left and pulled out a swift army knife. Rolling the sleeve of her white shirt past her elbows, Brook smiled dreamily down at the scissoring cuts on her arm. Some healing, others still a bright shade of red.

"No more weakness," she whispered as she made a slash on each arm.

* * *

Drugs are a poison. At times they heal us, and other times they take control of our lives. Ruling our better judgment and drowning us in their numbing embrace.

Numb

Brook was awoken by the sound of someone crying. She sat up in her bed, drew back the knitted blanket, and slid out of bed. Her feet shuffled towards the door and she slowly opened it. The hallway was dark except for the ray of light coming from her parent’s bedroom door. She cautiously made her way to the door and pushed it open. Peering inside she saw that her Dad was sitting on the bed next to her whimpering mother, holding her and whispering words of soothing nothingness. Brook drew back and made her way back to her room. She closed the door behind her and slid to the floor, the cool wooden surface pleasant on her warm skin.

She knew that she shouldn't be surprised. That little scene was always what happened after her parents fought. They made up for the night and the battle began all over again in the morning. Banging her head back against the surface of her door repeatedly, Brook numbly wondered why her parents didn't come to investigate. Or did they no longer care about their youngest, and remaining, child? Could they care less that she cried in her sleep, that she was plagued with guilt?

Drawing her knees up to her chest, Brook rested her head on top. Empty. She felt so horribly empty. She swallowed back her sob and sighed. Rising to her feet, Brook walked towards her dresser and pulled out the knife she kept hidden beneath folded T-shirts. In the light the blade gleamed with a sinister way, but Brook couldn't bring herself to cut herself. It wouldn't do her any good. It only brought pain that lasted a few moments, and nothing more. She didn't want to feel a single thing.

Hiding the blade beneath the articles of clothing, she closed the draw, and made her way out of her room. Closing the door a jar she ambles toward the bathroom, opened the door and flicked on the lights. Closing it behind her, Brook gazed spitefully at her reflection. She hated what she become, a mere shell of her former self. Sliding open the glass mirror she stared at the cabinet crammed with prescription drugs. Never had she self medicated before.

Ethan did though.....

Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, she grabbed the nearest bottle and, as if fate itself was on her side, it was pain killers. Popping open the bottle she shook a few of the white tablets onto her palm, set the bottle down and turned on the tap water. In a few seconds she'd swallowed the pills, and with a shuddering breath reached for another bottle of pills, taking one of each, until her body felt blissfully numb, and her mind foggy.

Leaning against the wall for support, she slid to the floor and made a small noise of pleasure. She couldn't feel a thing anymore, nor did she take notice to the tears that streamed down her face.

Finally

, she thought. Finally, I feel whole.

And in the moment of her own personal darkness, Brook failed to hear the words that traveled from her parent’s room and seemed to fill the entire house with its caressing embrace.

'I love you."


* * *

Thy shall feel guilt, and thou shall feel pain. But only the truth can set thou free from thy haunting sorrows.”

Guilt

It was the sound of someone screaming that awoke Brook from her drug fogged sleep. Groaning in pain, she peeled her face from the tiled floor and, and pushed herself into a sitting position, only to regret it seconds later. Her vision swam and stomach clenched in pain at the sudden movement. Whimpering softly, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply a few times, trying to subdue the pounding in her head. And, yet, even at a state such as these she could still hear the piercing words her parents spat back at one another. Filled with venomous hatred that only brought nausea to her stomach.

Gasping for breath, Brook stood shakily to her feet and numbly began to pile the prescription bottles inside the cabinet, her eyes downcast so she would not catch a glimpse of her reflection.

Done with the task, she stripped out of her faded gray sweat pants and black tank top, stepped into the shower, closed and locked the glass door behind her. She turned on the nuzzle and gave a small yelp when ice water fell down on her. It took a while before she became used to the droplets licking every inch of her skin, and soon began to enjoy the cold. Closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side, she sighed in delight, a lazy smile curling her lips. She could have stayed there forever and allowed her body to freeze and become numb; the very prospect of doing so brought a flutter of joy in her heart.

Yes, she dearly wanted to cease any feeling in her body. Never wanted to feel another blow against her, for she would be numb.

Brook threw her head back and stared up at the tiled white ceiling, her lips parted, and before she could understand what she was doing, words filled with sorrow and pain spilled from her lips.

"Ethan I'm sorry," she whispered, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I should have done something sooner. I-if I'd only told someone what you were doing you'd still be here....then, maybe none of this would be happening."

She sank to her knees and wailed like a wounded child, unsure of what to do and lost of whom to find comfort in. Her lips trembled as she chanted her brother's name. It was all her fault; if only she'd told her parents. If only she'd tried to help Ethan, then he would still be here.

"It's my entire fault!" she cried out. "Everything my fault!"

Brook yelled in anger, tore at her bare skin until blood ran down the drain, but she didn't care. She couldn't care. Not with her sub conscious mind constantly torturing her, taunting her very existence.

...Ethan....

His name played itself in her mind, his observant blue eyes imbedded in her memories.

...Ethan...Dead...All my

fault....

* * *

Imprint

Text: This image does not belong to me. Copy right.
Publication Date: 05-25-2011

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To those who had fallen, and those who still live to fight their demons.