ONE

October 21st

I'm Brooke Davis, and my best friend died yesterday.

October 22nd

My therapist wants me to keep track of my feelings so she can observe later.

So here you go.

It was my fault.

A boy named Jimmy Edwards brought a gun into school. I saw him point it straight at us; I heard the bullet pierce the glass as I ran.

I thought she was behind me…

October 24th

They say when you lose someone you love, the pain subsides over time.

But what really happens? Their loss, it pierces at your heart, twisting your insides with agony and making every waking moment lonely.

You want to disappear. You want to go crawl into a hole and never ever leave.

Don't listen to them. Don't listen to any of them.

They're all liars.

None of them know. You don't even know.

You never know until it happens to you.

November 1st

You probably think I'm some frustrated overdramatic teenager.

That's okay, because I don't care what you think.

I used to spend so much time worrying about what others thought of me. But not anymore. There's no point in it.

Now they all stare. They all whisper, "That's the dead girl's best friend," like I can't hear any of you.

I can hear you all. I can hear what you don't say. I can hear everything that you portray by a simple look.

Why is everyone so heartless?

November 2nd

I got at least twenty condolences today.

Brooke, I'm so sorry; Brooke, I know how you must feel; Brooke, I'm here for you; I'm sorry; how are you? Sorry about what happened; etc.

Is it possible for everyone to be so emotionless? All of the apologies sounded fake.

No one understands.

November 18th

Fuck grief counseling.

November 20th

One month… I miss you.

I miss sitting on my bed with you while we look through magazines. I'd point out someone's outfit and you'd point out what was wrong with each of them.

I miss walking onto your porch at 3 AM, waking you up because I couldn't stand another night of my parents' fighting. I miss how you'd always make me feel better.

I miss talking to you every day.

I miss sitting in your room for hours on end, laughing at pointless jokes.

I just miss you, in general.

November 24th

I can't feel my heart anymore.

November 25th

Lucas came over today. We've been broken up since the day of the shooting. It was a mutual thing. There had been previous times when I was broken, where he would help me become whole- but he also lost Keith. He was dealing with two deaths, and he was worse off than me. We wouldn't be able to make each other whole. We'd end up breaking each other in the process, along with our relationship.

So we took a break.

But I couldn't take the silence alone, so he sat with me. He cried with me. He held me while I cried. And then he made me hot cocoa and let me fall asleep.

I didn't have any nightmares.

November 30th

Come back come back come back come back come back.

...Please?

December 1st

It snowed today. You always did love the snow.

December 18th

Vacation began today… Why aren't you here in my room?

December 20th

Two months...

I'm failing three classes.

December 21st

Peyton come back… Please… You didn't deserve this. It's my fault, it's all my fault, I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry.

Brooke was sitting on her bed, fresh tears welling in her eyes. She was tracing her thumb over the designs on her journal, trying not to let the tears fall. She allowed herself, sometimes.

She figured if she cried, it meant there was still something there left in her, some shred of humanity left.

"I left her that day." Brooke choked out, and the body next to her shifted its weight. "You thought she was right there." Lucas told Brooke, reaching over to the table near her bed to grab tissues.

"I should have gone back. I should have…" Brooke took the tissue, wiping her eyes. "Nevermind. Thank you, Lucas."

"Thank you. For opening up." Lucas told Brooke, and Brooke looked over at him. His eyes were full of concern. He was in flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt, his eyes showing his exhaustion.

"I'll get over it, you know…" A lie. "I had a nightmare and I just couldn't take it." Brooke took a deep breath, allowing the air to fill her lungs to the fullest.

The room was darkened; a lamp in the far corner of the room was the only source of light. The curtains were closed, for Brooke refused to open them. The digital clock read 3 AM, but Brooke had no sense of time and found no need for it anymore. Nights were often sleepless, days just as lonely as nights.

"I left her on the floor." Brooke tilted her chin up, allowing her face to point slightly upwards at the ceiling. She blinked back her tears and smiled weakly at Lucas.

"I'm okay now." She told him after a few minutes.

"You aren't."

Brooke didn't protest, because they both knew it was true. Brooke didn't want to talk anymore, so she simply stood up, pulling back the covers.

"Want me to stay the night?" Lucas asked, and Brooke nodded ever so slightly. "I'll go call my mom." Lucas left the room with his cell phone in hand.

Brooke fell asleep before Lucas returned, curled up in a ball on her bed, nightmares forcing their way in.

Blood flooded through her dreams, a red tinge that wouldn't leave no matter what. Screams and gunshots were repeated in her mind, harsh and shrill. Peyton was always in her dreams, but she was always faceless. No matter how much Brooke tried to run towards Peyton, she just kept getting further away.

She awoke with screams, and Lucas allowed her to cry hopelessly onto his shirt as he smoothed her hair out.

"I love you," he always whispered during the countless times she cried in his arms, but she never once heard him.