Brooke drove home from therapy that night in silence, the windows and roof of her convertible beetle up and the radio off. She kept her eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel, and concentrated on breathing.
It was suddenly very difficult.
The brunette replayed the day in her head, scanning briefly over everything that had transpired, and was suddenly uneasy. Her therapist had told her to fill the new void she was feeling… but how? Everything she had worked so hard for was gone now. And Victoria…. Brooke didnt want to think about her mother. So what would fill her void? The brunette recalled her therapist asking her how long shed insist on going through life alone… She didnt know the answer.
The house, thought Brooke knew that it would be, was surprisingly empty as she walked through the door. And with that thought the concept of living alone was suddenly frightening, a foreign threat. But Brooke had been doing it for weeks, months by now, ever since Peyton had disappeared to go marry Lucas. Tonight, though, it all seemed harder, or impossible, and Brooke made up her mind that she was not about to try and do it again for another night. So leaning against the door and pulling her cellphone from her purse, Brooke dialed the numbers that she had learned to associate with only one thing: Home.