Chapter Two: Superficial
One day, long after Nathan had left for work, she logged onto her account on his computer and google'd herself. Or at least what she had been doing. Cutting. Or self-mutilation as the computer called it. Turns out a whole collection of people did it, in a whole lot of different ways. And this major website categorized them. And cutting was under it own one. One called superficial. She had to laugh.
Superficial. Slut. Selfish. Bitch. Those were words she had always been called, and she'd come to except it. But all the times she spent slouched against the sink, blood pouring down her legs was anything but. She slammed the laptop shut and closed herself in the bathroom. It was almost as if even that had let her down.
Nathan arrived home late that night, the smell of rum on his breath, but he wasn't drunk. Brooke had taken over the couch again, her toes curled under her, hair wet and long down her back. She was asleep, eyes closed. Nathan watched her for a long time. She was beautiful, so beautiful. Always had been. When they were younger and she'd come over for sleepovers Deb had spent hours doing her hair and dressing her up. Nathan had always said it was that that gave her the complex. Everyone had wanted a daughter like Brooke, a tiny princess. He could remember her way back when no one else could. When she was three her mother dressed her in dresses and patent leather shoes everyday, and her then black hair had never been cut. She was so gorgeous with her dark hair and contrasting ivory skin, those huge dimples, and even then she'd had more energy to her than anyone she'd ever met. She was so full of life, just amazing. Until now. And a part of him hated his brother for it. Hated his ex-girlfriend too. But the biggest part of him blamed himself. Because he had given her no time, no sympathy when she really needed it. And that made him a liar.
"Nathan, hold still, your breaking my hip." Nathan gritted his teeth and rolled off Brooke, his girlfriend of two years. He leaned back, breath coming in hard gasps. They'd been in the middle of one of their make out sessions in the pool house behind Brooke's. It always ended up with her shoving him out the door and him hating her for the torture she was causing him. He shot a silent prayer towards the heavens to give him patience, something he always needed with Brooke. She rolled over and leaned her head on his chest, her wide green eyes sending chills down his spine.
"Nathan, you aren't mad at me are you?" He shook his head and wrapped a strong arm around her. He couldn't be.
"No, Brooke I'm not mad." She searched his face and then reached behind her, for something he couldn't see, and then held up a neatly wrapped foil package. His eyes widened.
"Brooke. What?" She pressed her finger against his lips and shook her head.
"Nathan you love me don't you." He nodded. He did. She was so amazing it was hard not to.
"Brooke, of course I love you. I promise you that I will never let anyone hurt you. I love you so much Cantaloupe." The nickname he'd given her was a play on her middle name, Penelope; they both had a nack for making up nicknames.
"I love you too." And with that she'd given him everything she had. And it was only weeks later he was with Peyton.
Nathan shook his head at the memory. She hadn't been her first. There was that girl at the party he went to while they were on a break, Tatum or Taylor or something. But Brooke didn't know. She never would. He walked over to the counter and sat down, opening his lap top. On the screen was a website, titled Self-mutilation in teenagers. He closed it quickly and looked at her. Brooke? No. She loved the way she looked to much to mess with her body. She was far too superficial for that kind of behavior. He padded down the hall into his bedroom and slammed the door.