𝟎𝟑𝟏. 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥

club heaven ──── nessa barrett

☀︎ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖲𝖠𝖸 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤'𝖲 𝖥𝖨𝖵𝖤 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖦𝖤𝖲 𝖮𝖥 𝖦𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖥．

Denial── I have denied it for a whole week now, and I will die on that hill that my brother is not dead. There's just no way. I refuse to believe it. I guess I'm still in the first stage, stuck in my own head, imagining how he's not dead but stranded in the middle of nowhere. Yes, they lost him out there at sea, but there was a storm happening. They just assume he's dead, but I do not. My brother can survive a lot of things, alright, so I believe he has survived this.

Sure, my friends will tell me that he's dead, and that I need to figure out how to process that in my own way, but if he's not dead, I don't need to process anything, do I? Although, I guess I have found a way to "process", if that's what you want to call it.

Drawing. Painting. Sketching.

Art── that's how I've been processing my grief except my grief is a complete overreaction because he is not dead.

He's going to figure out a way to come home, and I'm still going to work on clearing his name while he finds a way to contact us. He's absolutely fine, and I'm sure he's lying low somewhere with Sarah.

Anyway, moving on to the second stage.

Anger── I guess I've been angry, but not in the yelling and breaking shit kind of way. No, I find that I am the silent angry type of person. I let my anger stew until it eventually explodes, and so far, it has not exploded. I know it's bubbling, stirring away deep in my stomach, and I know it will likely erupt, but until then, I'm just going to sit with my frustrations.

Besides, it's easier to draw my anger than let it unleash out of my mouth, so my art lately has just been red and blotchy and large. My art shows the emotions that I am too afraid to let loose.

Now let's move to the third stage.

Bargaining── this is one is a funny stage, I think. Not funny, haha, but funny unbelievable, I guess. When alone with my thoughts, I can sure cook up some unimaginable things. I mean, last night I was picturing John B and Sarah floating on a lilo in the middle of the ocean, and because I was thinking about that, I was also trying to squeeze my eyes shut as tight as possible just to see if I could teleport myself to the middle of the ocean so I could see them. Perhaps I could make some kind of deal with God, but you know, I'm not religious, so I've scratched away that possibility. Besides, he likely has better things to do than to listen to me.

My head is filled with what if's. For example, what if I had gone with him? Is this what he was trying to protect me from── death? I shake my head, knowing he's not dead. I can't explain it, okay, but that first stage of denial is the one I shall remain in because, as his twin, I truly don't think he is dead, and it's not just because I miss him, I do, but because it's the truth.

John B and Sarah are not dead, do you hear me?

Depression── the beloved fourth stage of grief. It's been a week since Sarah and John B "died", and once again, my depressive state is better drawn than said. I've been quiet, once against stewing in my depression while my friends sit around me and wait for me to just burst into tears. I haven't cried since the night of the storm── the night John B and Sarah "died". I'm unsure if I should be crying, but because I'm trapped in that first stage, I guess I can't cry.

I miss my brother. A lot. Missing him hurts, especially as the days continue to tick by. It may be a whole month until I hear from him again. It may be a whole year until I hear from him again, I don't know. I won't know until he gets in contact with us again.

Anyway, now onto the final stage.

Acceptance── I have accepted that John B and Sarah are alive. That is what I've accepted, and while I may be incorrect, I'll continue to live in that single thought of my brother and friend being alive and hopefully well.

They're alive. They're fine. They'll be in contact soon. All is okay.

Let's just say that I have not gone through all the stages except for one, and it's a stage that is just added for fun, you could say.

Revenge── the secret sixth stage.

Revenge on who? Well, that's the fun part. I am trying, and have been for the past week, to seek some sort of revenge on Rafe and Ward Cameron. Ward took my father and my brother, and Rafe snatched away somebody who would've never let any of this happen in the first place. However, there's a slight flaw to my plan.

If I want to live at the Chateau and not be swept into foster care after the Cameron's withdrew from being my legal guardians── thank God── then I need to stay as far away as possible from Rafe and Ward Cameron for the foreseeable future. Now, I appreciate that I'm being babied by the police after the "death" of my brother, but they're only saying this to me to protect the Cameron's. They don't give a shit about me. They just don't want me causing a scene.

Well, they clearly don't know me at all.

The beginning of my revenge started by me and Kiara spray painting the outside wall of the Cameron's estate. In red paint, we sprayed the giant, bold word, "Murderer", and while it didn't fill that void deep within, it still felt satisfying to do something.

I will figure out a way to take my revenge, but until then, I'm just going to sit and stare into space which I often find myself doing lately.

"Brooke?"

Like now.

I turn my head to the voice, finding that Kiara and Pope are staring at me.

"Do you want to say anything?"

Right. Tree. Funeral── without a body, by the way. Heart. Name. Box. Death. Saying goodbye.

I'm lost, if you can't tell.

I shake my head, staring forward at the tree JJ and I always sit upon whenever there's a storm. Now there's a heart carved into it with my brother's name sprawled across it. "I-I don't, uh, have anything to say," I stammer out, lifting the drink to my lips.

I feel a hand against my back, and even though it's impossible to feel an emotion through a simple touch, I know this touch is full of sympathy, and if I'm being honest, I really am getting tired of all the sympathy.

I am absolutely fine.

JJ clears his throat, raising his flask up. "John B."

I pull the flask away from my lips, realising I should've lifted it before drinking from it.

Oh, whatever, I'm the one with the dead brother.

Or not dead brother, I don't know.

"And Sarah," Kiara adds, eyes shifting to me as I look at the carving of John B's name.

I didn't even get to say goodbye to Sarah who I started to see as a new friend. It's fine, I shall see her soon, right? Some would call me delusional, but I shall just call myself hopeful.

Kiara holds a box in her hands. This box is filled of little mementos and keepsakes that reminds us of John B. Sitting underneath a bed of bracelets and tiny treasures we found from his bedroom is a picture of me and him which I contributed to the box. Kiara steps forward, bending down to place the box in the hole JJ previously dug.

Pope and JJ cover the hole and once it's covered with dirt again, they step back and rejoin the line we're standing in. We stare forward, raising our drinks a final time before drinking, consequently saying goodbye to my brother.

So that's where this act begins.

My brother is "dead". I can't speak to my friends. I'm working on getting revenge. Oh, and school is starting up again next week. How fun.

Let's read on...

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𝖩𝖩 𝖨𝖲 𝖲𝖨𝖳𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖮𝖭 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖲𝖮𝖥𝖠，𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖡𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖲𝖤𝖫𝖥 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 𝖠 𝖭𝖤𝖤𝖣𝖫𝖤．Sorry, I'll elaborate. He's not really stabbing himself, he's just piercing his skin with a needle, jabbing ink into his skin to create a tattoo on his ankle that reads, "P4L". He keeps cursing under his breath, telling me that it hurts over and over again. I sit on the floor── don't ask why── with my head down in my sketchbook.

Kiara bought me a new sketchbook as a way of saying, "I'm sorry your brother's dead", and while the reason for buying it is a little morbid, I really do appreciate it as I've missed actually drawing on real paper.

I've already filled half the pages over the past week with all kinds of drawings── landscapes, portraits of strangers that walk by, animals, flowers, the stars, trees. Basically, I've drawn anything and everything possible but it doesn't feel the same as it did before. I used to look forward to cracking open my sketchbook and dragging my pencil across paper, but now I feel like I'm only drawing to distract myself, so I can't find it in my heart to actually enjoy it.

Sketching isn't what it once was, and I hate that even if I do enjoy it regardless.

I hear JJ wince for the fourth time in five minutes. He's barely finished the letter "P", and it's becoming increasingly obvious that he needs help with the bastard tattoo. He's at an awkward angle, attempting to navigate the needle with his leg over his lap. He looks ridiculous.

I stand up, pushing myself up with the help of the wall. I put my sketchbook down, and I move to JJ who immediately stops what he's doing. I fall down to sit alongside him, and I reach my hands out, placing them over his as I pry the needle thing he's crafted out of his hand.

"I-I can do it, Sunny, I just..."

"Just let me do it." It's painful watching him attempt to do this. I knew he wanted a tattoo, but I never supported his choice to do it by himself. "It's paining me to watch you do this, J."

"It's painful."

"Okay, suck it up." I press the needle into his skin, earning a loud wince from him. I peer up at him, removing the needle before pushing it back into the base of his skin which, once again, results in another wince. "JJ."

"Let me tattoo you, and we'll see what noises you make, Sunny."

I raise my brow, a grin touching my lips. "Huh."

"I'm guessing you won't be getting another tattoo." I push the needle into his skin again, moving it down to create the "P".

"I have to get another tattoo."

I scoff. "No, you don't."

"I do. I need to get your tattoo on me, Sunshine."

"You don't need to."

He sighs, leaning back against the sofa as I gently lift the needle out of him, guiding it across to begin the next part of his tattoo. The "4" is going to be a little tricker, but I'm an artist, so this should be a piece of cake.

"Will you tattoo on me again?"

I lift my shoulders in a shrug. "Depends on where it is, JJ." He tilts his head, grinning widely. I roll my eyes, pushing out a laugh as I press the needle in a little harder than before, wiping that smirk right off his face.

"Fuck," he curses, head falling back against the back of the sofa. I gaze at him, dragging the needle to one side to create the "4".

JJ's the only one that doesn't treat me differently. No offence to Kiara and Pope, but they seem a little lost on how to approach me, like they don't want to overstep or hurt me anymore than I already am, and I appreciate that, but I'd prefer if they'd just treat me like nothing happened── like John B didn't die because I'm still a believer that he didn't actually die, but whatever.

Sure, at first, he was concerned about me and he offered me his shoulder to cry on, but now he's talking to me normally and making me laugh and we're just us which I love.

Last week, before John B took off, JJ and I had made progress, not just in our friendship but in our non-platonic relationship. We kissed, and it was a good fucking kiss── life-altering, I'd say. It was truly incredible, but now the progress has come to a crashing halt.

We haven't shared any longing stares of life- changing kisses this past week, so in a way, I guess he has been treating me a little differently, but I also haven't put myself out there. I haven't made any attempts to kiss him, so I can't really expect him to approach the subject either.

I want to bring it up, but I'm a little afraid of discussing it even if we both did agree that night to kiss again. I kissed him when we visited his father to collect the Phantom key, but that was just over a week ago. We have barely touched one another since. Sadly, me tattooing his ankle is the most I've touched him in a week.

I'm not complaining though.

I decide to start on the "L" part of his tattoo, and I find that letter to be the easiest part. I mean, you just drag the needle down and across. Easy. However, I decide to really drag it out because, well, I like touching him, sue me.

"Hey, JJ." My voice is soft, but he hears me.

"Hey, Sunshine."

I can't bite back the smile that forms because there truly is nothing better than hearing him call me that.

"Thank you for not treating me differently," I say, lifting my head to glance at him. I find that he's already staring right back at me, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards. Red creeps up my neck, glistening my cheeks as I force my head back down to focus on the task at hand. I don't want to screw up the tattoo at this stage. His skin will be permanently inked with my mistake, so I just need to focus.

"Why would I treat you differently?"

"Because, you know, John B..." I let him fill in the blank because I can't physically say died or talk about anything relating to his "death".

Maybe I do have problems.

"Well, you're welcome, Sunny."

I drag the needle down, and when he doesn't wince or groan this time, I find that I'm doing my job very, very well. Hey, perhaps I can be a tattoo artist. I'm not afraid of needles and I can draw.

JJ leans forward, shifting once I move the needle away from his skin so he can look at my work. I drag my thumb across the fresh tattoo, wiping away the excess ink. That results in a wince── the loudest one of them all.

"Sorry," I whisper, moving my hands away so I can check I've finished the art── if you want to call a "P4L" tattoo art. "What do you think?"

"Perfect." He lifts his gaze from the tattoo, eyes clashing with mine. Our faces are close── closer than we have been in the past week. I don't make any attempt to move away, and from what I can see, neither does he. I think we want to be close to each other, it's just an awkward time to be.

Does that make sense?

No. No, it does not.

I've waited eight years for this. Okay, at eight-years-old, I didn't want exactly this.

I just wanted to hold hands with him and prance around class to make all the annoying girls in my that liked him jealous, but now, at sixteen-years-old, I want something that eight-year-old me would gag at. Sorry, child me, I've grown up.

Now, I'm not going to get too ahead of myself. After that kiss we shared, I know exactly what I want with JJ, and I know him pretty damn well so I don't think he'd be against it either. Well, he might be against it right now as I'm not in any kind of state to make any life changing decisions because losing my virginity is life changing.

Ha, can't take that back.

How the fuck did I get here?

Oh, right, we're staring at one another, and I feel as if we've gone backwards. The way we look at each other now is the same way we looked at each other all those times before we kissed. I mean, we know our lips work together pretty damn well, so we shouldn't be going backwards, should we?

You know, John B "dying" has really inconvenienced me.

That was morbid, I know, but if you don't laugh with me, I'll cry.

If I don't joke about how my life is currently in shambles, and I leave myself alone with my head for too long, I will probably burst into tears. Hey, the day isn't over yet, so there's always time for me to shed a few tears before it ends.

No. I have not cried since the night I was told John B and Sarah "didn't make it", whatever that means, so I refuse to cry about all my problems until I actually find something to cry about.

John B and Sarah are alive. They're fine.

Shut up.

It took me nine months to figure out my dad wasn't coming home as he was killed by Ward Cameron, and when I discovered that, I obviously shed a lot of tears. Believe me, I will not be crying over John B being lost at sea until I see a dead body or somebody tells me a really long and painful story about how he died like Ms. Lana did with our father.

Hey, I just realised that both my father and my brother ended up lost to at sea.

What is it with the men in my family? Can they just not get themselves killed out at sea? It's really annoying, and it leaves me in quite a predicament. Look at me, I'm letting my head chew away at me. I'm going crazy.

I come back to the current reality I'm in, and just as I feel myself inch that tiny bit closer to JJ, he pulls back. "T-Thanks," he utters, taking the needle from me.

Did he just pull away?

I watch him lift himself up and off the sofa. "I've gotta go to work."

Oh, that's right. JJ has a job now. I think he begged for a job just so he didn't have to sit and stew in his depression. I know he's upset over the loss of John B because, you know, they're best friends. He should be sad. He and I haven't discussed John B much because, well, I haven't wanted to, so he hasn't wanted to.

I don't think he pulled away from me because he has work to go to. No, I think he pulled away for another reason that I will get to the bottom of, I swear to God.

I nod, leaning back. "Right. Yeah. Have fun."

He claps his hands together, moving out of the Chateau with a final, "I'll see you."

"Bye." The door closes behind him, and then I find that I'm alone in the home that doesn't feel like mine anymore.

The Chateau now feels like a place that I'm just existing in for convenience, not living in because I want to. It doesn't feel like a home, I'll be honest, it just feels like a house that doesn't belong to me. It's just me, sitting and staring at how truly empty this place is without... them.

Dad hasn't been inside the Chateau in nearly ten months and now he'll never set foot in it again. John B hasn't been home in a week, and I have no idea when he'll be back── if he'll be back.

My throat starts to constrict and burn and I feel something tug at the back of my eyes. I lift myself up, knowing that if I stay and stare at nothing, I'll work myself into a panic attack, and that truly is the last thing I could ever want.

I push myself out of the Chateau, silently cursing out JJ because I wish he hadn't left.

Why'd he have to leave?

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 . . .

𝖨 𝖲𝖫𝖤𝖯𝖳 𝖠𝖳 𝖪𝖨𝖠𝖱𝖠'𝖲 𝖫𝖠𝖲𝖳 𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳．Well, I tried to sleep at Kiara's. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, struggling to get comfortable. I eventually gave up and began doodling in my sketchbook while she slept next to me. I did feel her inch a little closer in the middle of the night, offering me silent comfort which I appreciated, but it didn't help me sleep.

I just couldn't sleep. I haven't really slept since John B and Sarah's disappearance, and I don't think I'll rest until I get real answers.

Anyway, I guess I'm not coping as well as I'd like to think I am. No surprises there, right?

I'm now back at the Chateau to collect some more clothes because Kiara has said that I'm more the welcome to stay with her again. I've been going from friend to friend over the past week── swapping between Kiara and Pope as JJ just crashes at the Chateau every night. I like to stay with each of them, it's refreshing to keep switching between them, I guess. Also, I think they need company just as much as I do.

Mike, Kiara's father, always cooks me the nicest breakfast in the world, and even though I don't eat much lately, I can't deny him after he's spent all morning cooking. He and Anna, Kiara's mom, have offered their condolences and sympathies about a thousand times, and I never know what to say, I just smile and thank them.

Whenever I stay with Pope, Heyward lets me help around the shop which I find to be a very good distraction. When I'm not helping with the shop, I'm delivering groceries with Pope which I find to be the easiest job in the world. Sure, it would be nice to get some tips, but because I'm the sister of that "damn Pogue who killed the Sheriff", I get next to nothing.

Thanks, John B. Insert eye roll.

I've heard some talk about John B amongst a few customers at Heyward's and at The Wreck who keep their gossiping at below a whisper whenever they see that I'm a few feet away from them. If I had any strength, I'd beg them to shut the hell up, especially when they say things like, "he had it coming", or "good riddance". Yes, people have actually said that. Whatever, I just block them out as best I can, and most never talk too loudly when I'm present because some people actually have something of a heart.

Nobody wants to upset the girl that lost her father and brother in the space of one year.

No, they'll just talk about me behind my back.

I actually heard somebody utter, "Gotta be careful of that Routledge girl, she might end up just like him". Unsure which him they were referring to── dead or a killer?

People can say whatever they want, I don't care. I can't stop them, can I?

I step into the Chateau and I find JJ on the sofa once again, his fingers tapping away at the cracked screen of his phone. He's been sleeping her every night even when I'm not here. He always sleeps out here on the sofa while I attempt to sleep in my bedroom. With him close by, it does ease the weight in my chest, but I still can never sleep. I often think about asking him to lay beside me, but I always chicken out.

I've let him kiss me, but I can't seem to let him sleep beside me. Pathetic? Very.

His head lifts when he sees me, but he barely spares me a glance before he looks back to his phone.

"You okay?" I ask carefully, unsure if he actually wants to talk to me, but something is obviously bothering him.

"Lost my job," he answers. "Do you have a charger?"

"What?"

He holds his phone up. "Phone charger."

"N-No, I..." I shake my head. "You lost your job?"

"Yeah." He stands up, moving away to see if I have a phone charger buried anywhere. I'm sure I do, I just can't remember where. I haven't charged my phone in days, and it still has water damage from that day Ward nearly killed us on his boat, so it ain't looking too good.

"How? Why?" He moves a few of the cushions, checking behind the sofa to see if where this charger is. Can he just stop pacing for a second? "JJ, can you just stop for one second."

"I need to find a charger."

"Why? Crossy Road will still be waiting for you when you get back," I jab which actually stops him from searching for the damn charger.

"Crossy Road?"

I shrug, arms crossed over my chest. "You seem like the type of person to play that." He scrunches his face up, turning away from me once again. "Oh, for the love of──" I charge forward, frustrated that he won't just talk to me, and I yank the phone from his hand with the very little strength I have left.

"What are you doing?"

"Why'd you lose your job?" I ask, ignoring him.

He sighs, but all that huffing and puffing won't get him anywhere. "Just lost my shit," he answers.

"Why?"

"Fucking Kooks, Brooke. Why do you think?"

"I don't know. Tell me."

"They said some shit about John B, and I just lost it, alright?" He moves past me, going to sit back down in his previous seat. I turn, following with my eyes as he moves. His head falls forward, resting on his hands, and I stand awkwardly in front of him, waiting for him to say more.

But then I spend a good two minutes waiting for him to elaborate, and he doesn't, so I speak first. "What did they say?"

"Yeah, like you care."

I rear my head back, surprised by the tone in his voice. "What?"

He lifts his head off his hands. "You couldn't care less, Brooke. You're walking around, acting like John B is going to come back, and he's not. You just sit there, drawing."

"Am I sitting or walking?"

"Brooke, this isn't some joke." I clamp my mouth shut, staring forward at him as he stares right back at me, but instead of looking at me kindly and lovingly, he's looking at me like he's pissed, and it's a look I've rarely seen. I hate this.

"Your brother is dead, Brooke."

I scoff, tightening my arms around myself. "He's not... dead." I hate that word, it sounds so permanent. Dead── not a fan, but then again, who actually is?

"Yes, he is, Brooke. He's not coming back. You're stuck in stage one. You know, there's, like, four stages of grief, right?"

"There's five," I mutter.

"Right. Whatever. Five." I nod, and JJ starts to talk again, speaking a mile-a-minute. "You're stuck in the first stage, and you need to get out of it, Brooke. He is not coming back."

"You don't know that," I argue, but my voice sounds so timid and faraway.

"He went into a storm, Brooke." JJ is standing up now, facing me. He looks so tall compared to me as I shrink back into a tiny ball of nothing. He's never spoken to me in this way, and I suspect this anger he's feeling has been building up for the past week, and now it's finally being unleashed.

"I mean, look at what happened to your dad, Brooklyn."

Ouch. That was unnecessary.

"That isn't the same thing," I utter, chest tightening with each word. "Dad wasn't caught in a storm."

"Yeah, so John B is more likely to be dead because he was caught in a storm── a bad one." I shake my head, looking away from him as he continues to talk. "Brooke, I get it. It must be hard for you, but you need to stop pretending like all is good when it isn't. John B is dead. He isn't coming back."

"Okay!" I yell, my throat burning.

"He's dead, Brooke. Just accept it."

"What? And skip all the fun stages before it?" I find my voice raising with each word, and before I know it, I'm as loud as he was. "I am handling this how I want to. I don't need your judgement on how I handle my brother's..."

He stares at me as the words dies on my tongue. "Death? See, you can't even say it, Brooklyn."

"Because he's not!"

"Yes, he is!" he yells back, glaring down at me with that same upset look in his eye.

"We don't know if he is, JJ."

"Brooke, just accept that he is──"

"No," I shout.

"Brooke──"

"He isn't dead." I suck in a sharp breath, my heart pounding heavily in my chest. "He isn't dead, JJ. H-He isn't dead," I insist, my head shaking with each word. "They didn't say he was dead, they just said they lost him. H-He's not dead."

JJ sighs, his chest heaving up and down as he attempts to catch his breath. "Brooklyn..." His eyes soften, finding that he pushed a little too hard, and now I've recoiled.

"He's not dead."

"He is, Brooke. He is dead." His voice is softer than it was before, but his words have not changed.

"No, he's not dead. I-I, out of everyone, would know," I say, my voice forceful. "I'm his twin, you know? If he was dead, I'd feel something. I'd just know, okay?" I don't know how true that is, but I do believe that, as his twin, I would know if he was really dead. "He isn't dead, I feel it. I'd feel different if he was, but I don't, so he isn't dead, JJ, okay!"

JJ's head begins to shake, obviously not believing that I have a feeling deep within about John B and about how he is so not dead. He's alive, I just know it. I can't explain it, but I just know.

"He's not coming back," JJ insists.

I swallow the emotion that crawls up my throat, threatening to spill out. "Can you leave?"

"What?"

"Can. You. Leave." I stare straight at him as he speak so he knows I'm serious── so he knows that I well and truly do not want him to stay here right now. I would like to be alone for the first time in a week.

"Brooke──"

"Leave, please. I just wanna be alone."

He nods, taking his phone back from me as I realise I've been holding it this entire time. "I'll see you," he whispers, stepping back and away from me, now leaving me in the Chateau to be completely and utterly alone.

When I watch the door close, I finally feel the tears, and that's when I crumble.

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𝖨 𝖧𝖠𝖵𝖤𝖭'𝖳 𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖣 𝖢𝖱𝖸𝖨𝖭𝖦．

Damn JJ for unleashing all the emotions I worked so hard to suppress this past week. I'm now sitting in a ball, crying into my knees as every emotion comes to a crashing halt before me, staring me in the face and laughing.

I've just been sitting, thinking about John B and every happy memory we ever shared growing up. However, just as we laugh as children, he's snatched away from me by the waves of the ocean. He's just there, suffocating and struggling for his life before his body just gives up, taking him from me.

He can't be dead. He just can't be dead.

This is the kind of thing I'm supposed to know, right? I mean, we're twins. We'd know if the other was dead, right? We shared a freaking womb, so we've gotta share some sort of psychic connection.

What if he really is dead and I'm just denying that fact to make myself feeling better? What I'm just doing everything possible to stop it being true? I shake my head, more tears spilling down my cheeks as I silently pray for him to be alive.

He has to be alive. I'm not delusional, am I?

I lay myself down, letting my head bury into the pillow. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing for the tears to dry up, but I know they won't. It's been a whole week of sitting and waiting and hoping, and now I'm finally done. I've had my release, and now that the tears have started, well, I can't seem to stop them.

I hate crying more than anything else in this world.

I hate the tightness in my chest, the burning in my throat, and the swelling of my eyes due to the silly, pathetic act of crying. I hate feeling weak and small and lost. I hate being curled up in this bed feeling as if I've been stabbed in the stomach. The pain in my hip from Ward's hook has subsided and, for the most part, it's healed, but I have a new trembling sensation in my stomach that's making me feel sick.

Crying really, really sucks.

Crying alone── that sucks more, but I was the one who pushed JJ out the door. I was the one who chose to be alone at this given moment.

I have made myself alone.

I'm a damn fool.

I don't know how long I spend crying into my pillow, fingers clutching my sheets as I try to keep some life in my body. I feel so tired but I don't want to sleep so I just stare at the wall, wishing it would crack and collapse and crumble on top of me, consequently crushing me.

Maybe I could knock the wall down to let it crush me. Maybe I can set the place on fire. If I do that, then I can──

"Hey, Sunshine."

I don't move my head, I just keep staring at the wall, more tears trickling down my cheeks.  

I hear shuffling. I hear whispering.

I then feel a hand slide against my shoulder. I feel a dip in the bed.

I hear more shuffling. I hear more whispering.

I feel another dip in the bed followed by another dip in the bed. I feel another hand on my back while another touches my head.

My eyes blink open, staring forward to find JJ moving to sit back against my bed frame. I lift my head ever so slightly, glancing over my shoulder to see Kiara and Pope sitting behind me, sympathetic smiles on their faces.

My head falls back to the pillow and I look up at JJ. "I'm sorry about earlier," he whispers, reaching a hand out to rest upon my head. "Come on, Sunny."

I shuffle closer to him, moving to rest my head on his chest which allows Pope and Kiara to fully sit down on my bed. JJ's arm falls around my back. Kiara lays down behind me, resting her head against my back. Pope takes my hand, holding it tightly as he moves to sit by my legs.

"I..." I don't even have the words for how I feel at this given moment.

My best friends are here── my family are here.

I'm no longer alone. I guess I never was.

"It's okay," Kiara whispers, moving her hand against my back in gentle, hard circles. "We're right here, Brooke."

"We're not going anywhere," Pope assures, hand squeezing mine.

I lift my eyes, looking to JJ who moves his hand up, pushing his fingers into my hair. "You're gonna be okay."

Yeah, maybe I will be.

──────────────────────────

❀ soph speaks

START OF ACT TWO!!!

ended pretty abruptly, i kinda ran out of ideas lol

anyway, hope you enjoyed :)