Chapter 4 – Darkness

The girls woke up early and rode their bikes to the mall. Peyton immediately ran to the music store and scanned through the cd's. Brooke noticed it wasn't gonna take less than an hour for her friend to leave the place, so she decided to focus on something more interesting: guys. The guy on the counter was pretty hot, and then she spotted another one, who was just finishing helping some woman find a cd. As soon as the woman left, she ran to him and asked about some random cd. He lead her to an aisle next to where Peyton was, when Brooke passed by her friend, she winked and pointed her head to the guy in front of her. Peyton laughed and rolled her eyes. As if the guy would even look at a 9 year old. An hour and a half later, they were both at the food court, having lunch. Peyton had bought a couple of cd's and Brooke had bought some make up Peyton knew no normal 9 year old would use. But then again, Brooke wasn't normal, she was just… Brooke. And that's what was keeping Peyton from falling apart right now. They finished lunch and Peyton decided it was time to go back home.

- You're sure you're ready for that? – Brooke asked in a concerned tone.

- No – Peyton sighed – But I'll never be ready, Brooke.

- Okay… but I'm going with you. I'll stay there, at least for a while, ok?

Brooke stood up and looked at Peyton. She then reached her hand to Peyton, to make her get up. They linked arms and walked out of the mall. When they got to Peyton's house, she stopped again, afraid to go in, just like the day before.

- Come on, Peyton, it's ok. You said it yourself, you have to do this. And I'm right, by your side, ok? – she held Peyton's hand and walked in front of the girl, leading her into the house.

Peyton walked in and, once again, all she could see was her mom. She missed her so much! She ran to her parent's room, Brooke following her, trying to keep up.

- Mom! Mom! – she was screaming, desperate to hear an answer – Mom, don't leave me, please!

She entered the room and saw it empty. And untouched. It seemed not even her father had been there. She buried her head on her mom's pillow, trying to smell her scent. It was still there, why couldn't her mother be there too? Brooke stood by the door. She wouldn't dare to go in, it was almost like she couldn't. It was this private moment between Peyton and her mom, it wasn't her place to intrude. She felt Larry's hand on her shoulder and looked up. He just moved his head, signaling for Brooke to follow him to the kitchen.

- You want anything to drink? Some juice? Water?

- No, thanks – Brooke answered, quietly, looking at the direction of the room Peyton was in from time to time.

- There's nothing you can do, Brooke. You've helped her more than I could till now, but she's gonna have to face it. And I wish I could bring her back, or make it easier on my little girl, somehow. But I can't. Unfortunately, no one can.

- I guess you're right – Brooke sighed, and then looked at Larry, after a while – Mr. Sawyer… Do you think it'd be ok if I stayed here for a while? I just wanna make sure she's ok.

Larry smiled. Of course she could stay. Brooke knew his daughter better than he did, and he didn't even know how to take care of her all by himself. Most of the time it was her mom who did this, he was always working. Of course, he was a good father, he spent time with her when he was home, he played with her and took her to the park, but it was her mom who was there, all day long, who tucked her into bed, who took her to school, who helped with her homework and taught her how to draw. Plus, he missed his wife so much, and he had to keep strong for his daughter. Sometimes he even felt he needed to be alone to deal with it. He felt like the most selfish person in the world, and he wouldn't leave his girl, of course he wouldn't.

Brooke smiled and got up. She went to Peyton's room and sat by her bed, waiting.

Larry went to his room, and saw Peyton there, on the same position she was in, sobbing. He got closer to her, sat by the bed and put his hand on her back. As soon as she saw him there, she got up and ran to her room, not saying a word. She couldn't handle this, any of it. She needed to be alone. But, as she slammed the door shut, she saw Brooke jump up and go to her direction.

- Did you talk to him? – Brooke asked.

- I don't wanna talk. There's nothing to talk about – she turned her stereo on, a loud angry rock music started playing.

She tried to say something but the sound was so loud it was impossible to hear anything. Peyton didn't even seem to notice how loud the music was. She was staring out the window, blankly.

- I think… I need to be alone for a while.

Brooke could only hear because she was closer to Peyton now. Her voice was weird. Different, distant. Almost mean.

- Are you sure?

- Brooke, just go! – she said, louder this time.

- Alright, well, if you need anything…

She just said that and left the room. When she got to the front door, she turned around, sighing, not really wanting to go. She hadn't left Peyton's side since the funeral, and now she was worried of what could happen.

Peyton stared at the window and saw her friend leaving the house. She didn't mean to talk to Brooke like that, Brooke was the only one by her side through this whole thing. But she was tired of being weak in front of everybody. She was tired of people seeing her cry. She took her drawings and looked at them. Happy, funny, colorful drawings. They didn't make sense anymore. That's not real life. The world isn't joyful, it isn't colorful. Her world right now was black and white, and right now she didn't think the colors would ever come back. She started drawing, she didn't even think, just took the paper, the pens and started drawing. She draw so furiously the paper was almost ripped in pieces. The black ink was wet with Peyton's tears. But they weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of hate. She hated her mom for leaving. She hated her father for letting her mom go. She hated the doctors for not saving her. She hated herself for not walking home and wanting her mom to pick her up. And the more she hated, the more she drew. About 15 minutes later, she stopped. She didn't have the strength to do anything else. She looked at the piece of paper in shock. She'd never done something like that, she didn't know where that had come from. It was black and white, only the blood was bright red. Blood dripping from her pencil, from the picture frames, blood falling from her eyes as if they were tears. She looked at this drawing and felt relieved. She was being honest with herself for the first time in days. And then she collapsed onto bed and fell asleep.