Sometimes I can't help but blame Estella, the mother that abandoned my family, for my instability. Growing up without an actual female role model left much untaught and while Fannie tried to be that figure, she was just winging it. Sometimes I don't even resent Estella. After all, I am the master of my own destiny. My life, my choices, my outcomes. If I'd been guided maybe my life wouldn't consist of fuck-ups, screw-up, mishaps, and deceits. Then again, she was a fiend. Her state of eternal euphoria would have inhibited her to be of any use to us. So perhaps I'd still end up here one way or the other: restricted to a five day lockdown, laying on this very bathroom floor, in my own solace.
Drip…Drip…Drip… the sound of the leaky sink makes the world seem like such a simple, peaceful place. In my world, emotions are at war with themselves bringing me to a dead end. I don't know how to feel at all. Mackenzie, Wesley, or even my people at the parlor would come in handy for all of what I need to spill out. Mark's outside, you know?
Taking the brick of a cell phone in hand, I sweep myself off the floor. Rubber-legged, I proceed towards the door to find Mark and Nurse Mousy. Just so happened that while I was drinking in my remorse, they got away with a "Meredith and McDreamy steamy" moment.
Despite the situation, I cough exaggerated enough to pull them apart. Mousy slides back a few inches with her head buried in her hands, pink from the neck up. Mark on the other hand shoots me a murderous glare.
"Excuse me but I needa snag Mark away for a moment or two," with that I drag him away either way.
Struggling to hold my grip, I drag him all the way to the end of some hall and throw him into a random room, personnel lounge. I pace around as he berates me, "Did you have to fucking cock-block me, Soto? You know how long I waited for Nicole to get on my boat?" he snaps but I just keep on pacing, "Soto, are you listening?" he asks. I just break and crumble, "What exactly did you do in that bathroom?" he snatches my wrists and checks them over for any signs of evidence.
"You're the closest person that I have to call a friend. I…I need to talk! Before you say it, I don't need a fucking shrink! Shrinks listen like twenty-percent of the time while analyzing the shit out of you for the rest! I need a human being to listen and just vent to, okay?" at this point I'm sobbing and gasping for air, "I don't want a fucking shrink!"
The guy, in shock, shushes me and directs me to a sofa, "Okay, I'll listen just relax, okay?"
"Call me Marleene, it makes this less frightening."
"All eyes and ears on you, Marleene."
Nerves constrict my airway as I try to find a way to let it all out. Strangers aren't ideal for these sorts of things – too personal. Breathe, bitch, breathe! A set of breaths and I'm semi-ready, "Sorry, I just never…I…" he nods his head understandingly, "No questions, okay?" another nod, "This is going to sound cliché as shit but here it goes…" I close my eyes to get a better chance of reminiscing whole details, "It's April of '99. Twiggy Brooks had been ill for quite a while now. Her heart had shown an irregular heartbeat. It was overworking itself. Along with massive bouts of nausea and migraines, she had started to lose weight at a rapid pace. Her kids were at her beck and call day in and day out while her husband was out of sight. Phil was nowhere to be found, at least that was what I first thought…"
ΔΔΔΔ
Six years ago…
Silver Cross Hospital, New Lenox, IL
We've been visiting so often we know most of the staff by a first name basis. I just tag along with the trio of siblings because Twiggy has, somewhat, been a big role in my life. Even before she was committed, I was around her house daily. And as day roll by, her health doesn't seem to pick up any and as shallow as it is, she's going to waste away here.
I lounge on the convertible chair as Micks saunters off to scavenge for some food and probably cry in the bathroom while Elle listens in as her mother goes on relentlessly about the cruelties of life. Mike just keeps to himself, finding the gloomy weather more interesting than all of this. After being here dusk to dawn, I guess even the pattering rain is something of interest.
"Yo, women, I'm out. I'll be back after some time, Ma'," as he starts towards the door, he stops to tow me along.
"Son, wait!" yells his mother. Mike groans and retreats, "Clean that piece of shit house and bring back my favorite joggers."
"Anything else?"
"Stop fucking your brother's girlfriend, you little shit," and a round of palms meet faces. Yeah, she knows too and she doesn't like it one bit.
Brooks' Household, Lockport, IL
"Mike, where'd you leave the goddamn keys?" I shout, I've been fluttered for the better part of the trip back home. Mrs. Brooks pushed thoughts back into my head…thoughts that were better left forgotten.
"Under the mat!" he shouts back from the car.
I bend over to feel around for the keys when I feel a hand smack the shit out of my ass. Oh boy, it stings! I turn around to see a devilish smirk strewn across my green-eyed companions face and jangling keys in his hand. Almost an exact replica of the…yeah, "You're a fucking asshole!" I scold.
Snatching the keys from his grip, I stomp to the door without further ramifications, until I feel his arms weave around me, "Why are you pissed now?"
"Your mother…" his grip tightens and he presses against me. He's ready and that shit makes me uncomfortable considering how annoyed I am, "Honey, can you remove your erection from my ass so we can get in?" he slides away, "Thank you."
Once inside, I strip off my sweater and walk to the kitchen in hopes of indulging in some feel-good-food. Of course that isn't what Mike wants, seeing as how he has the glazy glint those green eyes of his. His feet make the floorboards creak trying to get my attention but I know if I look into his eyes right now, I'll be disappointed. He's not the owner of the olive green eyes I always find myself pining over.
"I think you need a something stronger than a chill pill, Marleene…" he says coming up in front of me, "You're so angry and uptight, relax," he whispers as his lips ghost over the skin of my neck, "I'll help you though…" his teeth knick at the skin eliciting a sharp hiss from me, "There you go," he lifts me onto the counter, his fingers working their way up my shirt. My teenage brain can only handle so much before giving in.
Forty minutes later…
Working my way through some cashews that I found, I vegetate on the couch with my feet propped up. I'm geeked for the match coming up between the New Age Outlaws and the team of my beloved Mankind and Kane. My fuck buddy is off in the kitchen preparing dinner, or at least that's what he considers PB&J.
Soon as the match commences, Mike swerves into the room with a stack of sandwiches that could probably feed have a dozen bums and still leave seconds. He conveniently stands in front of the fucking screen to which I shout at him to move.
"I made food, be generous."
"I'm trying to watch the match and I'm oh so grateful. Move out the way!"
Narrowing his eyes, he throws himself onto the couch and grabs himself a sandwhich, "I dunno why Punk's dumbass found that such a lovely quality…" he mumbles and he munches.
My mouth drops like a hanger. How many times have I mentioned the fact that said guy is history that should not be repeated? Too many times. Of all people, Mike's the last person that should even utter a word on the subject. He's the damned reason why Punk left. Fucking asshat. I pull a pillow to my chest and fixate my attention on the match.
Making note of the tense air, fuck buddy slides over and waves a hand in front of me. I blink but don't pay him any attention, he doesn't deserve it. He gets the confirmation that I'm upset so he starts, "It slipped, babe," for the next few minutes he spends charming me with sweet nothings, hoping to butter me up for another round of hay rolling.
"If you wanna fuck, let's fuck."
He chuckles, "I like your upfrontness, kid, I really do."
Ten minutes later…
It's all a game of dominance, he's winning. He has me on hands and knees over the couch. His hand possessively grips a butt cheek while he leans over me to whisper provoking slurs as he keeps a steady but firm pace. I'm just moaning to moan. We have a free house and as soon as he's spent, I can resume watching RAW. Till then, I lose myself in the feeling of friction occasionally touching myself.
The front door swings open, I can feel the cool air sift through, and a voice all too familiar booms, "Holy shit!"Mike swiftly pulls out and takes his shirt to cover his indecency. I, so unlucky, lay low hoping that I'm just hearing his voice, "I know that it's you…" comes the voice, sounding on the far side of happy.
Gulping, I rise from my cover and peer over. It's Punk. He's clad in a simple black sweater, grey sweats, and some sneaks. Handsome as ever and totally disgruntled, "Pu…Punk?"
"Live and in the flesh, baby," his accusing eyes drift over my body and back up to my face. The feeling of perpetual guilt courses through me. He looks at me with such disgust.
"Punk…Punk, this isn't…I still…I'm sorry!" I try to articulate but in the end it all falls flat either way.
He raises a hand to shut me up, "Sorry for what? Sorry you got caught?" his eyes delve into mine, they're arctic cold. A vein on the side of his head protrudes and I'm scared that it might burst, "Save that shit for someone who's got shit for brains," he side checks his brother as well and breaks into a sarcastic laugh, "You know, dear baby brother, I never actually expected this of you…" Punks smiles biting his brand new lip piercing, "That's quite a lot, considering how you fucked me over with the gig and shit. This, this is a new level of low," and by this, he means and points to me, "You're the epitome of a low-life, bottom feeding bastard. Congrats on the accolade," with that, Punk's out the door with not even a look at me.
The baby brother's initial shock wears off replace with fury, "How about we settle this like real men, huh. That's what you want, right? To get your ass handed to you."
My...Phil, he stops in mid step, "Because that'd be an injustice seeing as how you're clearly at a disadvantage," he proceeds to walk out into the endless rain wordlessly.
For a moment, I wonder if following my heart will come of any use but I go with it. I fly out the door without anything cover my lady bits. I'm out where any naked eye can see me the way I came into the world and you know? I don't give a flying fuck.
"Punk!" I shriek, "Punk!" I shout trying to reach him before he speeds away in his car. Within an inch of him, I latch onto his sleeve and hold my ground, "Punk, please listen to me! Let me explain!" I shriek, out of breath. Shrugging out of his sweater, he slings in around me. This is all in attempt to preserve whatever remains of my dignity, he shakes his head in dejection, "Baby please!" I sob.
Raindrops hang off the tip of his know and spill off the ends of his tied up hair, "You don't have to say a thing. I get it…I" the pure sadness that his eyes hold are enough to drown me, "I expected to come home to the most amazing, beautiful, intelligent girl I've ever known…I expected to come home to have her all over me with excitement in her eyes, expected to come home so she could console me in my darkest moment. What do I find? I find her bent over for the brother who drove me out," he whispers in bitterness, "I fucking told you I loved you. I fucking said that to you and evenwhen we weren't official, I let down my guard for you!" he bites his lip, "You said you'd wait however long that would be," he doesn't wait for me to get a word in, "Joke's on me, huh? I promise you, Marleene, I promise to leave and never return for your sake. I'm off to visit my mom but that's the last of me you'll be hearing of. Have a fucking good life, beautiful," he shoots me one last lingering look and shakes off my hold.
He gets into his vehicle, turns on the engine as I desperately try to unlock the door, "Phil, no! Listen to me!" I blubber but before I know it he reverses and speeds off, leaving me dropping to the ground, scuffing up my knees, crying in his wake.
ΔΔΔΔ
"I wanna at least end off this story on a bright and peachy note but truth is…life doesn't work like that. Twiggy Brooks died in the hospital three days later. Punk didn't bother to stick around for the funeral or wake he helped fund. Elle, the head of the family, married a few years after but went psycho. Mike disappeared from the face of the earth. Micks, she put me here. Punk, he…he didn't return until a couple of months ago. He doesn't even remember me like…like," I can't bring myself to finish I just huddle into Mark's arms.
All's out in the open. This is some behind closed doors shit. How I came to this, I don't know. The man that left me came back and doesn't even remember he hates me. I wish I was ignorant to this. I want to believe I didn't deserve what happened with Noah, and all the outcomes that followed. Ignorance is bliss.
A/N- Damn, so the truth is out. We figured out her past. What will come next?