DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Tree Hill, or any of the characters. If I did, I would treat Brooke a hell of a lot better than she gets treated on the show.
Author's Note: So this is my first OTH fan fiction. I am not sure what this story will become. It will mainly revolve around Brooke and is set in the Fourth Season. I had two main ideas for this: 1 – It is a OTH based fan fiction and sort of an alternative timeline for Season Four. OR 2 – It is a Crossover with Smallville… only more like First and Second Season Smallville (since I have no idea what happened in the later seasons). SO if anyone read this, your input would be greatly appreciated.
Oh, and irregardless, there will be a fair amount of multiple ships in this guaranteed. So here you go.
Reviews would be greatly appreciated.
She felt ill. Terribly ill. Violently ill. Deathly ill. She tried to fight back the wave of nausea that was threatening to overtake her.
What has she just done?
FLASHBACK
She walked with her head high to her car and quietly slipped in. She had resisted the urge to slam the front door and she had also managed to resist the urge to slam her car door. She started the car robotically and drove away.
Ten years. Ten years down the drain all because of something that can't be helped, but something that changed everything.
She kept on driving. She had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. She just needed out. She drove toward the highway. She drove toward the edge of town. She drove towards the YOU ARE LEAVING TREE HILL sign in the distance. Then she did the thing you're never supposed to do when you are leaving. The very thing that she screams at girls for doing in scary movies while they are being chased. The thing she knew would stop her.
She looked back.
Almost as if fate knew she was having second thoughts, her cell phone rang. She braked. Hard. She was ten feet away from leaving. Ten feet away from running away from her problems. Ten feet away from the drama. Yet she couldn't put her foot down to provide the extra pressure needed to make it that extra ten feet.
Someone was calling her. No… not someone. HE was calling. The guy she was running from. The guy that complicated everything. The guy that she couldn't help but love no matter how many times she tried not to. The guy she almost left behind without a goodbye.
Here she was. In the middle of the street. Ten feet away from freedom and a Keane ringtone he had downloaded onto her phone had paralyzed her. She didn't know how long she sat there, motionless. She knew it was long after the phone had stopped ringing. Long after the phone had rang again a few more times, the same ringtone mocking her. Long after she had picked up the phone to hear not one but three heartbreaking apologies and one desperate cry to come home because Nathan was in the hospital. She might have stayed there all day had it not been for the insistant honking of a car behind her, anxious to move forward out of Tree Hill.
How she wished she could be in that car. How she wished she was that free. How she wished she could erase the past few years and just remained her state of denial. But she wasn't. She couldn't. But the horn seemed to break through the numbness that enveloped her as she broke down and cried. Cried for what had happened. Cried for what she lost. Cried for what she was about to do.
As the cars behind her drove around and out of town, Brooke Davis, the cheery girl who days ago had it all, just broke down and cried.