Disclaimer: I don't own OTH or any of it's characters, blah, blah, woof, woof.
Hello People! Sorry if I waited too long to update. I planned to update on Friday, but the servers were down and I couldn't. Sorry if the chapter is too short; that's just how it's written. Also, I'm not making Brooke be pregnant in my story. Been there, read that. Not trying to offend anyone, but that's just how I feel about this story. I want this story to be original. Please Please Please review! They keep me going and motivate me to write more! I plan to update like, once a week.
To All the People Who Reviewed:
sweetgirl73- Thank you! I love it when people review my story! Did you know that you were the first review I ever got? And thank you, I try my best with Brooke's characterization and her family's. Sorry, but what happened to her last summer is not going to get out until a lot later into this story.
0621- I read your story and I think it's awesome! Thank you for your compliments! Personally, I think you are a much better writer than I am. I don't know, I think everyone has a sort of hidden side and I am trying to show Brooke's in this story. This new side of Brooke is already evident on the show; there's a bit of a difference in her character this season.
Lauryn2- Aw, thanks! The whole piano thing was just an idea that popped in my head. Also, I just wanted to make Brooke have a hidden talent, because personally, I think she's one of the most intriguing characters on the show. There will probably be a few piano scenes throughout the chapters, just because Brooke has a lot of inner demons to battle with, and the piano is sort of cathartic for her. Also, I essentially want Brooke's dad to be seen as a sort of flawed person who really does love his daughter. He's not as mean as Danny Scott. lol
l-a-c-18- Thank you! Your story is on my favorites list! It's really cool when someone who has written an amazing story thinks your story is amazing! Yeah, I am a Brooke fan and the story sort of centers around her and her history. Grr… Last season, the writers of OTH were total Peyton-shippers... I don't hate her; I just love Brooke way more. lol
Chapter 3- I Fall Apart
Thinking about her parents made her feel even more horrible, if that was even possible. "It doesn't matter, they're only here ten months out of the year anyways," she thought. She made her way to her room, shivering, not knowing whether if it was because she was cold, or because of the darkness her parents made her feel. Wanting to relax for a while, she changed into royal blue silk pajamas, with a black satin camisole with matching underwear underneath. Walking next door to her father's study, she felt instantly more relaxed. It was a place of comfort, bringing back memories of sitting in her father's lap listening to him read stories to her when she was a little girl. Granted, they were stories about Machiavelli and Alexander the Great, but they were still her fondest memories of the closeness she once shared with her father. It was an old-fashioned, manly study; a gigantic room with an executive desk and large leather armchair, and rows and rows of shelves lined with first-editions of classic novels and reference books. "Lucas would die to have this collection," she thought, running her fingers along the numerous leather bindings and reprimanding herself for even thinking about him.
She made her way over to the wet bar on the other side of the room and poured herself a bit of twenty-five year- old scotch in a crystal glass. "Yet another thing I share with Dad, a penchant for good scotch. God help me," she knew that he would've been furious if he knew she was drinking. "I enjoy pissing people off," she thought, chuckling. She sat down on the large couch in the room, and using the remote, she turned on the fireplace. Sipping the scotch, she began to finally relax. She was staring at the fire, hypnotized by the flickering of the vibrantly-colored flames. "Scotch is good," she thought, giggling to herself, because she knew the stuff tasted like poison, but it was only out of habit that she liked it. The room started to spin and bile began to rise in her throat. "What the hell? I didn't even drink a quarter of a glass, Oh Shit!" She remembered that for the past twenty-four hours she had been running on pure emotion and about six cans of red bull and a few cups of coffee. "When was the last time I slept…? Oh yeah, the day before I found out. Oh Shit!" The feeling wasn't subsiding. Now fully aware that she was about to be sick, she quickly ran to her bathroom, and began hurling into the toilet, gripping the sides tightly to try to vent to pain she was feeling. The fatigue of practicing piano for hours and hours, consuming nothing but caffeine and going without sleep for so long had finally gotten to her.
She stayed there for a few hours, wretching the bitter nothingness out of her already-empty stomach. A small breeze blew through the open window. The dark bathroom was oddly comforting; it smelled like the jasmine candles she loved to light, the marble floor was smooth and cold. Her pajama top was soaked with a combination of sweat and tears. After she was sure she was done, she leaned back, sitting against the cold wall. Tremors from vomiting for so long sent waves throughout her entire body. She wasn't used to losing control over her own body like that. Taken by a cold sweat, she was shivering, but felt as if she was burning at the same time. She wasn't sure if she had been crying out of pain or frustration. The truth was that it was probably both. Grasping for the last of her energy, she slowly unbuttoned her top, trying to get the drenched piece of lingerie off her body. After an extraordinary effort, she was finally free of the restrictive clothing, her upper body left only to be covered with the black satin camisole. Leaning back into the wall, she cradled her throbbing head in her hands, her elbows propped up on her knees. She couldn't remember a time when she felt this awful, even during the most wicked hangover. Her head was pounding the blood into her ears so loudly that she didn't even hear him enter. Startled by the human contact, she shoved the hand that had been caressing her cheek a moment ago away. She could recognize that touch anywhere. Warmth, calluses from basketball… It screamed Lucas. It had taken all her willpower not to nuzzle into the familiar comfort of his touch.
"Lucas. What the hell are you doing here? I thought I made it pretty damn clear that I never wanted to see you again the last time I saw you." Intending for the question to come out as a harsh yell, she was surprised to hear it come out as a low growl. She wasn't too surprised, since she had been vomiting for hours and her voice was dead.
"I just wanted to see if you were okay," once again he was at a loss for words. He couldn't ever recall feeling so guilty. It was clear how destroyed she was. He had seen how hurt she was at the studio, and even then… Something wasn't right with him. He had broken up with her, to be with Peyton, but he was drawn back to her. There was another feeling, one that made him want to pull her into his arms, wipe her tears away, and just kiss her.
She couldn't believe the nerve of him. The cheating bastard was actually standing there and pretending to care about her. But he was just like everyone else in her life. He only hurt her in the end. She let out a small spiteful laugh.
"You're kidding me, right? Okay, so I find out that you actually dumped me for my best friend, whom by the way, you were screwing around on me with. And you're here asking me if I'm okay." Her fiery hazel-green eyes were focused on his cool oceanic blue ones. It felt good; to yell at him, to cause him some pain, even if it was just a fraction of the pain he had caused her.
"I'm sorry." He looked genuinely hurt and ashamed. He was reduced to a shell of the person she had fell in love with.
"Just leave, Lucas" she noticed how hurt he looked. She wanted to rip into him some more, but she was weak. In the end, she told him to leave because she could never hurt him like he did her. She loved him, even if he didn't love her; she would never be able to do it. What Brooke didn't know was that he was slowly dying inside. The revelations of earlier had shaken him to his core. He had learned how he really felt, and it scared the hell out of him. He was rightfully afraid that he had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.