Stitches

Nothing compares to the barrel of a loaded gun. Fortunately for me I had the barrel of one pressed to the side of my skull to remind me of the strange comfort.

“You stupid little fuck!” Eddie screamed at me from his appointed place of authority, after all he had the gun in his hand.

Brooke sat on the corner of the sheetless bed. Tears flowed down her cheeks, taking her black eyeliner with them. Even with the heartbreak in her eyes she was still stunning in that white dress. She had told me earlier that day, as we met at the front of the church that I was handsome in my black suit.

“What the hell is your problem? Scared?” Eddie teased, pressing the gun tighter against my temple.

“Eddie stop!!” Brooklyn screamed, Eddie never even acknowledged the panic in her voice. He just pulled the trigger.

I shot out of bed, a cold sweat clinging to my forehead. My bangs were soaking wet and swept to the side. I looked strange without the fringe hanging over my forehead.

Brooke lay next to me sleeping peacefully. I threw the blanket back and climbed out of bed. I grabbed my t-shirt from the floor and pulled the bright blue shirt over my head.

On my way out of the pool house I glance at the clock; 5:30 AM. We hadn’t been asleep but for a few hours.

My mouth was dry. I left the pool-house in search of water. The full moon reflected in the pool. I walked into the house. I shut the French doors behind me, careful not to make a sound.

I was scared, for my life and Brooke’s. Maybe it was the reality of the vivid dream I had suffered from or maybe it was the realization of exactly how much I loved the girl but I felt immensely protective in the most archaic form of the word.

I made my way through the dark house, the full moon illuminated the path to the kitchen. I pulled open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. I close the door and sat down at the island.

I couldn’t fathom how such a humble person could come from a place like this. It was full of pricey items all acquired by a greedy mother. I suppose reality kept Brooklyn meek.

I groaned and ran my hands through my hair. What the hell am I supposed to do? We can’t live our lives in fear, yet I can’t just resume life as if there’s nothing wrong. And I’m not moving to America.

My intense thought was interrupted by a light flicking on and a hateful voice.

“What are you doing in here?” Brooke’s mother, Traci, asked.

“I wanted to get some water.” I replied, holding up the bottle.

She tightened the ties on her robe as she shuffled through the kitchen.

“I don’t like you.” She said as opened the fridge and began pulling out the makings for omelets out of the refrigerator.

I laughed, “I can tell.”

She pulled a skillet out from the cupboard and sat it on the gas stove. She opened the eggs, took one out and cracked it on the side of the pan. The clear yellow mess spilled into the pan. Traci reached down and turned the knob on the stove, it clicked a few times before a flame shot up under the skillet.

“No, I mean that I don’t like the way you look. You’ll have to be a good guy for Brooke to fall for. She knows how to pick a winner, except for that Eddie character.” She said as she pulled a spatula from the drawer next to her and began stirring the eggs with it. For what reason, I wasn’t sure.

“Eddie is an asshole.” I said flatly, causing Traci to laugh.

“No, really, I don’t mind you. You just look absolutely ridiculous.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or offended but I took it for what it was; the truth.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I said, eyed averted to the opening door. Brooke walked in to the room, her hair a wild mess.

Half of my heart has a grip on the situation, half of my heart takes it’s time.

Brooke walked over to me, she brushed the hair away from my cheek and kissed it. I felt every nerve on that square of flesh go flying into overdrive. She sat on the stool next to me and laid her head on my shoulder.

For the first time in my life, I knew exactly where I belonged; wherever she was.