Hey guys. So I apologize for my lack of updates, once again. But for a while there I'd decided to just let go of LMTS because it just wasn't getting the hits and the reviews I'd hoped it would. But one night I was bored, and figured that since I wasn't going to continue this story, that I'd just have a little fun with it. The chapter turned into something I actually really liked, so I'm posting it, and whether or not I keep going depends on the feedback.

So here's chapter seven. It's different from all the others in that it's written in first pov, but hey, my story, my decision. Plus, like I said, I was just having fun. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Oh, and heads up, this chapter puts to use the M rating. It's the first time I've ever written a scene of intimacy, so I'd really love to hear some feedback on that, critical or appraising. It's all good. (:

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Brooke

Breakfast At Tiffany's played on the tv screen sitting in the living room across from me. I sat curled up under a blanket on the couch, kind of uncomfortable. But my discomfort was not physical. It was mental. Paranoia had found me about three minutes after Rachel left. She'd said she'd be right back, and I knew that she would hurry to return. I knew she was aware of how much I feared being alone. How terrified I was to be left at the mercy of silence and shadows.

It was hard for me to believe just how amazing Rachel was being throughout this whole ordeal. As if coming back to Tree Hill after hearing the news and offering me a place to stay wasn't enough, she was actually taking care of me. Like, full on baby sitting me, for a lack of better term.

It's not as bad now as it was in the beginning, just four short days ago when I was at last released from the hospital. She wouldn't let me go anywhere on my own. When I sat up in bed so that I might leave to use the bathroom, she was immediately at my side, taking my arm to help me across the hall. Three times a day, she would bring me a tray of food, no matter where I was in the house. It was ridiculous, really, and I hated it. I even told her that I didn't want this kind of treatment. That I wasn't made of glass. Sure, I was fragile, but I wasn't a fucking china tea cup.

There was one aspect of Rachel's relentless watchfulness of me, though, that I couldn't help but appreciate. Things tend to get worse at night, but I guess that's no big shocker. The first night back at Rachel's was bad, to say the least.

"Get off me!" I screamed into a featureless face. My hands were balled into tiny fists and beat against his hard chest in vain. Tears burned my sore eyes, blurring my already hazy vision. How long had I been here, lying on this bathroom floor with this mysterious man on top of me? I wasn't sure. All I knew is that it needed to stop. It had to stop.

"Please," I pleaded with him. Could he hear me? Did he even have ears?

But he didn't stop. His hands found my wrists and shoved them to the floor above my head. His fingers squeezed too tightly. I stretched and contracted my fingers, but I couldn't feel them.

"Get off, please." My words were feeble and begging at this point, broken up by the sobs that wracked my abused body.

"Brooke!"

I hated the way my name sounded as it came from somewhere within him. He had no lips, no mouth to make the sound. Where did it come from?

"Brooke!"

There it was again. I watched in horror as the blank face above me began to adopt features. Brown eyes, then a petite little nose and rosy red lips.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a cascade of water fell on me.

I woke with a start, panting and gasping for air. I couldn't tell if my cheeks were wet with tears or ice cold water. Maybe both, I wasn't sure.

But all that really mattered to me was that Rachel was the one staring into me with her brown eyes, cloaked in concern. I frantically reached for her, clutching myself to her slender body as if it were the only thing keeping me from falling back into that horrible dimension where he was waiting, waiting to hurt me again, like before.

"Shh, Brooke, it's okay."

Rachel's voice was soothing in my ear. My face was buried into the crook of her neck, my hands clutched tightly to the front of her tank top. He still felt so close, so real. I couldn't shake the image, the feeling of him using me for his own sick, twisted pleasure.

"You're okay. You're here, with me. No one's going to hurt you here."

As she comforted me, I slowly began to slip back into reality, and I realized that her words were true. I was sitting on my bed in Rachel's room, with the red head holding me in her long arms.

My body slumped into hers when I finally released my tensed muscles. My breathing returned to normal, interrupted only now and then with a breath that liked to cut itself short.

"Come on, scoot over."

I didn't really do anything as Rachel pulled back the corner of the covers and climbed into the bed beside me.

I fell gladly into her waiting arms, laying my head on her chest. I felt her hold on me tighten a little, and I couldn't deny how wonderful it was, how truly safe I felt there.

It took me all of two minutes to fall into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up that morning feeling more rested than I had since before our Prom-Gone-Wrong.

Rachel was already awake. I lifted my head from her chest so I could look into her face. I opened my mouth to thank her, but words caught in my throat when I noticed her cheekbone, tinted in awful shades of green and blue.

"Rachel, what happened?" I asked. My voice was hoarse. There was barely any tone to it at all. But my expression communicated enough concern to make up for my less that sympathetic voice.

"You hit me."

I was taken aback. She didn't say it with anger or remorse. She simply stated it.

I, on the other hand, was beside myself with regret, even if I'd done it unconsciously.

"Oh, Rachel, I'm so sorry. Here you do this selfless thing for me and I repay you by giving you a bruise."

"Stop it, Brooke," she ordered, but her voice was still gentle. Was she still trying to comfort me? I couldn't quite tell. "You were dreaming. You were flailing about and I just happened to be in the line of fire. No harm, no foul."

"But look at you," I argued, shaking my head and lifting my hand to softly brush my fingers over her discolored cheekbone. "I can't believe I hit you."

Rachel shied away from my touch. I wished I could have distinguished whether it was because the bruise was tender or because she didn't want me touching her. I hoped it was the former… although I wasn't quite sure why.

"Really, Brooke. It's not a big deal." She shrugged, and I wished she would stop being so blasé about it. I'd hit her, for Christ's sake. "I'll tell everyone I had some hot, rough sex this weekend. Would you mind hitting me in the arm, too?"

I wanted to swipe that smug grin right off her pretty face.

She slept with me in my bed every night after that, claiming that if she didn't, I'd have nightmares and she wouldn't be able to get her beauty sleep. I didn't argue. In all honesty, I did sleep better with the comfort of Rachel's warm body next to mine.

I wasn't sure what I did to deserve such kindness from Rachel. For the longest time, we hadn't gotten along at all. But eventually we found a likeness in the bitterness, and we used that likeness to build a friendship. She would never know how thankful I was for that friendship now.

Although today, I couldn't help but fear that that friendship had been tainted. Last night had gotten out of hand. I was weak and scared and looked for relief in all the wrong places. Why had she agreed? Why hadn't she shoved me away? I wasn't ready to lose our friendship, especially over something so… so juvenile.

We were facing each other. I think I'd started out with my back to her, but eventually I'd turned over, and eventually Rachel had woken up.

Now, we just stared at each other in innocent silence. As I wondered what she was thinking, I began to wonder if she was wondering what I was thinking.

I'm not sure why, but I started to cry. But the silence remained. The only way she could have been able to tell that I was crying was if the moonlight glistened off my fallen tears.

Which apparently, it had.

"Why are you crying?" she whispered.

I closed my eyes tight, praying that she wouldn't be able to read my thoughts. It seemed that as of late, I'd been an open book.

I felt her fingers against my cheek, brushing away the tears. So I opened my eyes.

"I'm scared."

There was a short silence. I nearly suffocated because of it.

"Of what?"

For some reason, I was filled with a mild sense of satisfaction with the fact that she hadn't just assumed that I was scared of him, like most others would have. She knew me so much better than everyone else.

Well, everyone except for a certain blonde, who was still a few miles away, lying alone in a hospital bed.

"Everything," I breathed. I felt my eyes glistening with a fresh wave of tears, but miraculously, they did not fall.

I didn't explain what I meant by 'everything'. I was sure that Rachel would presume I didn't mean it literally. But there really were a lot of things that frightened me. So many things that, at one time, I had been so certain of. Now all I knew was doubt.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, before reaching up and placing my hand on top of Rachel's, which was still at the side of my face. I laced my fingers through hers and pulled it away from my face. I dragged her fingers down my neck, across my collarbone and down the middle of my chest.

My breathing quickened as my eyes found her brown ones. I could see that her body had tensed, gone stiff, but I was glad to find that she wasn't pulling her hand away.

"What are you doing?" she asked. She didn't sound revolted or offended. Just… apprehensive. Maybe even curious.

I wasn't sure how to answer that. After all, even I wasn't really sure about what I was doing. But I tried my best to put my thoughts into words, for both our sakes.

"I'm afraid that it's not real anymore," I started, but I knew that it made no sense at all. But for some reason, I continued anyway. "I need to know that it's real."

I pulled her hand a little lower, to the middle of my torso.

"Brooke, wait," she said, her voice gaining a subtle note of urgency as she stopped the movement of our hands.

"Please, Rachel," I whispered a plea, my eyes shining with unshed tears once more.

If only she could have understood exactly how I felt. Exactly how I feared that it wasn't real anymore, that it wasn't anything more than a painful, scarring experience.

"I need to know that it's more than just…" I couldn't bring myself to say it as a soft sob wracked my body. "Than just…"

"Shh, I understand."

Her words were a relief, and I lifted my gaze to meet hers. Her brown eyes were filled with several different emotions. The only one I could be sure about was worry.

"But, are you sure?"

This question surprised me. I hadn't expected her to even consider this. And in all honesty, I wasn't sure. I was acting on an impulse. A desperate need to prove to myself that there was more to it than what he had shown me.

Slowly, my eyes not once leaving hers, I nodded my head.

And apparently, that was all the affirmative she needed.

I wasn't sure exactly why she agreed to it. Did she actually want me? Or was she just doing this for me? Was this another one of her selfless acts of kindness that she'd been spoiling me with the last few days? I really couldn't tell.

But when she moved so that she was on top of me, I didn't really care why she was doing it. The important thing was that she was going to prove to me that it was real. The important thing was that in that moment, I trusted her with my fragile, broken body, because I knew that she would never do anything to hurt me.

I watched with bated breath as Rachel dipped her head to kiss the side of my neck, and I was surprised by how easy it was, and by the fact that it didn't feel awkward at all. I'd never done anything like this with a girl. The thought had never crossed my mind because I simply wasn't attracted to the same sex. But this was different. This wasn't about an attraction or a passionate desire. That stuff didn't matter.

She let most of her weight rest on me, and I enjoyed the feeling of her body flush against mine. My eyes fluttered closed and I craned my neck to the side, allowing her better access as her teeth and tongue grazed my heated skin in a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure.

Instantly, I felt a wave of heat course through my body as a reaction to Rachel's lips on my neck. My hands were at the small of her back, attempting to pull her body down closer to mine. I couldn't have explained the sudden need that took hold of all my senses. It was wild and untamed, as if all my pent up anger and distress was suddenly letting loose in a very satisfying way.

I was quickly becoming feverish, my breathing ragged and uneven, as Rachel pulled away from my neck and sat up, straddling my hips. I stared up at her silently from my position beneath her, wondering what it was she was going to do next.

She didn't say anything as her hands found the hem of my tank top. She tugged on it, pulling it up my body, and I raised my arms over my head to allow her to pull it up over my head. There was a split second in which I felt self conscious, a little uncomfortable, being half naked under the stare of another girl. It was a new feeling for me, since I was always exuding confidence, but I realized that that confidence would probably never find me again. Not after everything that had happened.

But my uneasiness disappeared as soon as Rachel leaned down, her flowing red hair falling to frame her cherub face, and took one of my nipples into her warm mouth. I gasped involuntarily and pressed my head back into the pillow harder. With every expert flick of her tongue across my hardened pebble, a jolt of electricity shot straight through my entire body. I felt the region between my legs responding to Rachel in a very obvious way.

"Rachel, please," I begged, not quite sure what I was begging for. The sensations coursing through my veins were so overwhelming I could barely think straight.

She must have understood my request better than I did, because as she moved to pay the same treatment to my other nipple, she pressed her palm flat against my stomach and excruciatingly slowly moved it downwards.

My hips rose, pressing into hers in anticipation.

I felt her hand slip beneath the fabric of my boy shorts, and with my arms stretched straight out, I grasped a fistful of sheets in each hand.

With my wetness, Rachel's forefinger slid easily across my clit and another exasperated gasp escaped my lips. At the sound, Rachel released my nipple from her captivity and once again moved up to attack my neck. My hands automatically moved to her back, my fingertips tightening around her shoulder blades.

"Rachel," I whimpered again, desperate for her touch.

She complied without complaint. She slipped one long, slender finger inside me, and my hips were quick to buck into her palm. With a mind of their own, my legs bent at the knees and spread apart a little. My eyes were shut tight, my forehead creased in concentration as she slowly pulled her finger out of me completely.

With the noticeable absence, I felt lost, alone in a world of sorrow from which I would never return.

But then she pushed inside me again, as far as she could go, curling her finger slightly within my slick walls. My mouth hung open a little to better fit my uneven, heavy breathing.

Rachel's movements were slow and even, so much more attentive than the last time I had been touched this way.

But as the tension began to build and my stomach twisted up into knots, I knew that this gentleness wasn't going to get me to where I so urgently needed to be.

"More," I breathed, arching my back up into Rachel's body.

Her lips were still assaulting my neck, but that pleasure was not my main focus. I waited, then drew in a long breath as she slowly pushed into me again, this time with two long fingers instead of one.

When they were as deep in as they would go, I felt a twinge of pain due to the last time my body had been explored like this, due to the last time something had forced its way between my legs. I cringed at the pain and felt my body tense slightly. Rachel must have noticed, since she stopped her movements, her fingers pausing inside me. She lifted her head in order to peer down into my face.

"Are you okay?" she questioned, her voice low, almost a whisper. I could see the concern in her deep, chocolate eyes. "Did I hurt you? Should I stop?"

I struggled to gain control of my ability to function properly. Once I managed to find it, I shook my head. I was touched by how worried Rachel was about me, how afraid she was of hurting me. The fact that she cared meant everything in the world.

"No," I whispered in response, trying my best to hide the truth, that I really was in a small amount of pain. But her ending this before it was finished was about the last thing I wanted. I writhed beneath her slightly, anxious for her to continue, and I stretched my neck back, pushing my head back into the pillow behind me. "Please, don't stop." I wondered if I would ever be able to talk to her without taking on a pleading tone. But I supposed that didn't matter now, not when she started moving her fingers inside me again.

She slid in and out of me with increasing speed, although her motions never stopped being gentle. I was grateful for her sensitivity to my fragility. It was a nice change.

After several long moments, the pressure in my abdomen began to heighten substantially, and quickly. My breaths were coming in short gasps. My fingertips dug into the skin of Rachel's back as I moaned, "So close."

I felt her add another finger to her movements, causing me to groan in approval. I learned to cope with the small jabs of pain as her three fingers spread me wider, pumping in and out of me at a quick, even pace. I came to find that they mixed pleasantly with the more prominent waves of pleasure to do nothing but increase how amazing it felt.

Then her mouth was once again covering my nipple, her tongue swirling it around, her teeth nipping down on it ever so gently. "Fuck," I whispered frantically, my body once again arching into Rachel's as I felt myself teetering on the edge of my climax.

Her thumb found its way back to my clit and rubbed circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves as her fingers plunged into me as deep as they could.

"Oh, God. Rach."

My words came out as strangled gasps as my orgasm found me. I felt myself tighten around her fingers and I clung to her desperately. My eyelids pressed together tighter and my fingernails pushed into Rachel's back as she thrust her fingers into me one more time and curled her fingertips, adding to the intensity of the orgasm.

It took a couple minutes for me to come down from my high, but when I did, I was surprised to feel the smallest of smiles on my lips. Rachel was hovering above me, holding her weight with her arms, grinning down at me.

I wanted to lean up and kiss her, to thank her for what she'd just done for me. But then I realized that, throughout our little escapade, the one place her lips had not ventured was my own. I couldn't help but wonder if there had been a reason for that, so I suppressed the urge.

My expression straightened, no hint of a smile or smirk on my lips, and I just stared up into Rachel's brown eyes with appreciation. "Thank you," I whispered, then fell silent. I didn't know what else I could do, nor what I should do.

Rachel gracefully fell back to the bed beside my and nodded. "You're welcome," she said with a tone just as earnest as mine had been. She opened her arms for me to occupy them, and I didn't hesitate to snuggle into her side. I didn't seem to remember that I was topless. Well, that, or I just didn't care. I was far too content to care about anything, really.

All day, my mind had been consumed with only two things: one unconscious blonde and one pesky redhead.

It was torture, really.

On the one hand, I was still worried sick about Peyton. Every time I thought about her, lying on that hospital bed, hooked up to an IV with an oxygen tube to her nose so she could breathe properly, I thought about the day of Prom. All the nasty words we'd exchanged in our fits of anger. It was my fault. I'd thrown the eggs at her house. I'd provoked her, not the other way around.

I threw my Posh mug at her, for Christ's sake.

And then she'd said the words that practically ripped my heart out of my chest.

"You're right, she's dead. And as far as I'm concerned, so are you."

Yea, that one hurt.

If only I'd had the strength to tell her the truth, to be so brutally honest with her the way she was with me. Maybe it all could have been avoided. Maybe she would have told Lucas she wanted to go to Prom, that way he would have never left when he went there to pick her up. Maybe, if I hadn't been such a god damn awful coward, none of this would have happened. And Peyton would be okay.

So on the other hand, I had Rachel. What was I supposed to make of what happened last night, of what we did? Did she expect me to return the favor? Was there some kind of connection between the two of us that I'd never noticed before? Was Rachel – dare I say it – bisexual? Or was last night a one-time thing? Just another one of her selfless acts of charity for me?

I really had no idea what to think of it. Any of it. And I had no idea how to go about with the rest of the night. Rachel had been completely blasé all day, almost as if nothing had happened… Although this morning when I came downstairs she'd said, "Morning, Horny." That was about all the reference she'd made to it yet. It made me uncomfortable, to think about what we'd done, what I'd asked for and how completely pathetic and vulnerable I must have looked and sounded.

I honestly didn't know how I felt about it. I mean, I'd never, never, done anything like that with a girl before. I'd never been that physically close to anybody but another guy. That was it. I was straight as a fucking board.

Wasn't I?

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my cell phone ringing. I leaned forward to grab it off the coffee table and for some reason didn't bother looking to see who it was before answering with a less than enthusiastic, "Hello?"

"Brooke. Hey, it's Lucas."

Damn it, why didn't I look at the caller ID?

"Oh, hi Luke."

"How are you? Is everything working out okay at Rachel's?"

His voice sounded cautious. I could tell that he was nervous and I felt kind of bad for being the cause of it. I hadn't meant any harm in isolating him. I just knew I wouldn't be able to handle seeing his face, not when I knew he would remind me of him.

"Been better. Rachel's great. She's taking such good care of me you'd think I was paralyzed or something."

He chuckled softly, but I could hear the apprehension behind it. It wasn't a genuine Lucas Scott laugh. Shame.

"Well that's good." He paused momentarily, and I was afraid I already knew what was coming. "So, um, I was hoping that since you're out of the hospital now, and doing so well, that maybe I could… um, maybe I could-"

Of course I was right. He wanted to see me. But I wasn't sure I was ready. How was I supposed to know if I was ready.

I drew in a sharp breath and interrupted him. "Lucas, wait."

He stopped. Always so polite.

"Luke, I feel really bad about asking you to stay away, but you have to understand."

I heard him sigh sadly, and wondered if I even needed to continue.

There was a long, silent pause. It took a mere three seconds for it to become awkward. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

"I wish there was something I could do."

"I know, Lucas." A couple of tears fell from the corners of my eyes. It felt so wrong, holding the boy whom I'd once loved with all my heart at arms' length. I wanted so desperately to let him in, because I knew Lucas. I knew how great he was at saving people.

I'd seen him save Peyton too many times to forget.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching up to wipe the tears off my cheek.

"Just, when you're ready-"

"I'll be sure to call," I finished his sentence for him, and drew in another shaky breath.

"Bye Brooke." I couldn't shake how the sadness in his tone cut through my like a butcher knife.

"Bye Luke." And the line went dead.

I didn't bother to hold back as my body broke down and sobs wracked my fragile body. Every once and a while, I'd be hit with a big enough sob it actually hurt me. The doctors said the tissue surrounding the point at which the knife had entered my back would be tender for a couple of weeks. I wasn't really surprised.

But what did shock me was just how truly weak I had become. I used to be such a strong, independent person. Now all I could do to survive was latch onto the people who cared about me. Rachel. Haley. Karen. They were holding me together in more ways than they knew. Without them, I was sure I'd be lost. It was a helpless feeling, one that was foreign to me. I didn't particularly care for it, either, but I wasn't about to push these people away. Not when I needed them so desperately.

The front door opened, bringing me once more from my thoughts. I quickly pulled myself together, not wishing Rachel to see me like this and once again extend her undeserved kindness to me. I just stared forward, listening to her footsteps as she made her way from the foyer and into the living room.

I noticed just a little too late that the footsteps were much louder, heavier, than they should have been.

I didn't even have to time gasp before a large hand covered my mouth from behind. A strong arm wrapped around my neck and squeezed, making it difficult to breathe.

Fear.

It was the only thing that registered in my racing mind as I felt hot breath on the side of my neck, and two deep, whispered words met my ears.

"Hello, Brooke."

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Okay, so now that you've read a chapter in Brooke's pov, here's the question. If I continue, how would you rather read the next chapter: from Brooke's or from Derek's pov?