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Chapter 18 – Not my Memories.

In the morning I woke around 10:30, Red and I stayed home from school so I could finish "Recovering".

I woke up and turned, noticing that once again, Red wasn't there.

Caroline's voice passed through my mind quietly, "She's a demon, Brooke."

I shook the idea off and stretched, standing a little too quickly, steadying myself for a moment.

I shuffled painfully to the bathroom; the doctor said it would hurt the most the first day off of morphine. I had bruised and cut up both shoulder blades when I fell against the TV stand. My eye and my bottom lip was swollen and purple.

I looked at my face in the mirror, running my fingers over my eyebrow and wincing, I had gotten 4 stitches, the conch had ripped my skin open pretty good.

"You look like hell…" I mumbled to myself.

I washed up and went out into the kitchen, Red was there with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

I smiled as I entered the room, and she stood immediately, "I don't know if you'll like the toast… we pretty much have to feed you baby food till your mouth heals up, you bruised your jaw so it'll hurt to chew… I cut it up for you…"

I laughed softly, a dull throb radiating through my lower jaw, "Im sure its great, Red, thanks"

She smiled and pulled a chair out for me, "The swelling on your lip has gone down a lot…"

I nodded, "Yeah, I still look like shit though…"

Red frowned, I saw the corners of her mouth twitch slightly.

I grinned even though it hurt, "Oh come on, you know you want to smile, I'm fine, really"

Red smiled. That beautiful smile that gives you the feeling you get when you close your eyes and let the sun melt over your face.

I sighed and smiled, "Thanks… everyone's been so careful with me… I hate it, It's not like I'm in quarantine or something."

Red laughed softly, "Well, we just don't want you to hurt anymore is all…"

I remembered what I had heard last night and nodded. An awkward silence drifted over us and settled on our breakfast. I felt old, like we had been sitting here for centuries, I shook the feeling away along with the imaginary dust that settled in my hair.

Red watched my eyes closely, I put up a mental block and saw her eyes film over slightly, straining to see, but I remained blank.

"Well!" she finished, "You gonna eat your baby food or not?"

I smiled and nodded, worn out mentally by the war I had just fought in my mind. Her stare subsided and she let me be.

After breakfast we went for a walk, I was itching to ask her about last night.

I cast my eyes to the forest floor as we stepped over fallen logs and squished grass between our naked feet.

I smiled and my mind flashed back to a child's memory.

The bright green grass poked up between my toes and tickled me as I walked along the path by myself. Uncle Oiva had told me not to go down here, but Daddy didn't say anything.

It couldn't hurt…

I walked smoothly and listened as birds called in the trees above me.

The sky darkened gradually as I walked further, Traces of footprints marked the earth. The middle was rubbed down into a rut, not deep, but a rut nonetheless. It was wide and slightly curved. The ground tore on the sides of it like something had been dragged. It gave me the chills.

I looked into the sky, it was getting dark now, and Daddy will probably be wondering where I am.

I decided a few more minutes wouldn't hurt, and that I would keep walking. I was a big girl.

The smell of the swamp drifted up into my face. I closed my eyes and wrinkled up my nose in disgust. It smelled rotten, like when my fish had died last week.

I walked up to the murky water and gazed into it, when something caught my eye. It was silver and shiny, lying almost hidden in the weeds next to the water.

I picked it up. The gleaming metal was heavy in my hands, and warm. I ran my tiny fingers over the trigger and poked at the chamber.

I studied the gun for a moment longer, not knowing what it was, Daddy had one just like this…

I stood and fumbled, sending the pistol splashing into the water.

The horrid smell rose up from the water and splashed onto my clothes. Red.

A sick feeling built in the pit of my stomach and I leaned forward, looking into the disgusting green water.

I reached forward and leaned over to claim my trophy again, plunging my hand into the slimy water and sifting around.

My fingers entwined in reeds, tangled.

I made a face and rose my hand from the water.

Yellow weeds?

I grabbed a handful of the disgusting stuff and pulled it out of the water. What I saw wasn't any kind of reed.

The gaping open mouth yawned up at me and the white eyes stared accusingly. The hair tangled around my fingers along with maggots and water bugs.

I screamed and tugged my hand. The hair was tangled around my wrist and my fingers. I pulled frantically and burst into tears, screaming and crying.

The face lunged at me with every tug, menacing and horrid, its awful splashing noises barely heard over my terrified screams.

The screaming face haunted me for the rest of my life, I couldn't go to graduation… I was 8 months pregnant, expecting in June.

The baby girl inside of me kicked and tumbled around. She was strong, like her father. I was skeptical. I had talked to William about raising a child. I wasn't ready. At 19 I was still a kid. Will was 21.

Prom was hell. My knee length yellow dress stretched over my tummy and I stood onstage, shamed at all the parents whispering my name,

"Catherine"

"Pregnant"

"Shame"

"Slut, " they would all mock when they thought I couldn't hear.

I was a victim of Prepartum depression. It was too late to back out of this now… and besides, Will and I had already named the baby. Her name was to be Brooklyn. My favorite place. I was born there.

Then one night, a Dreary rainy morning. June 13th 1992, she came. 14 hours of labor forced me into a breakdown.

I didn't want my life to be ruined by a child. So, when she turned 5, that kicking screaming bitchy age children get to and they decide to start talking back to you… I decided to leave. I went out with a bang. Made William cry and everything. I didn't need him, OR Brooke.

I had met an awesome guy, Morgan. Morgan loved me, he took care of me. I didn't have the heart to tell William I had been with Morgan for over a year now.

I miss Brooke sometimes. I wonder what she looks like… she'd be 17 now... or was it 18?... it doesn't matter...

I wonder how Will is doing. I heard he ran off with another of his high school sweethearts.