Keep the noise low.
She doesn't wanna blow it.
Shaking head to toe
while your left hand does "the show me around."
Quickens your heartbeat.
It beats me straight into the ground.
You don't recover from a night like this.
A victim, still lying in bed, completely motionless.
A hand moves in the dark to a zipper.
Hear a boy bracing tight against sheets
barely whisper, "This is so messed up."
Upon arrival the guests had all stared.
Dripping wet and clearly depressed,
he'd headed straight for the stairs.
No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch,
unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships.
(Up the stairs: the station where
the act becomes the art of growing up.)
He keeps his hands low.
He doesn't wanna blow it.
He's wet from head to toe and
his eyes give her the up and the down.
His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up.
But the body on the bed beckons forward
and he starts growing up.
The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe
you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed
but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.
-Brand new-sic transit Gloria...glory fades
The darkness is cutting deep into her soul. She is sitting, silently in her closet with the door shut tight. It is a small space so she's kind of cramped. She hugs her knees tightly to her chest as she listens closely to the sounds of her father screaming at her mother. Every once and a while she will her something break, Probably a vase or a stupid plate. Tears are burning there way down her face as she clamps her eyes shut.
Sometimes she pretends she is someone else. Sitting with her mommy and daddy watching Americas funniest home videos, Laughing and eating popcorn.
Sometimes she pretends she's somewhere else, away from the hard voice of her father.
Today she replays the events of the day before a million times in her dead. Cutting into her soul deeper. Leaving a pale scar.
Lucas walks to her, there both looking around at where the dead gravel path led them. Brooke looks down, she cant look at him, she cant bare the pain any longer.
"I'm sorry Lucas." She whispers. Her voice cracks a little on 'sorry'
He doesn't say anything, but she knows what he's thinking. She knows that sorry isn't going to fix anything. Not now.
She looks around. He brought her to their first date. Back when all he had to do was look at her to make her smile, back when she believed him every time he told her 'everything is gonna be alright'.
Not anymore.
She looks at the grass, its damp from the cold evening dew. She looks at the pond. The water looks so dark and still, dead.
She stops.
She heads her mom scream.
Reality rushes back into her when she realizes her mom has never screamed like that before.
Did her kill her?
"Please don't let him find me tonight...not tonight..." she sobs softly as she clamps her eyes shut to keep the tears from flowing out, though it doesn't work.
She tries again to make herself disappear to somewhere else when reality pulls her sharply back when she hears her fathers footsteps getting closer to her.
"Not tonight..."