Killer Teens

The Root of Our Nature

Brooke’s POV

I’m buried in my lies, crushed by them, smothered by them, enveloped in their heaviness so much that it feels like I will never break the surface.

I’m not the girl I claim to be. I’m not Jason’s girlfriend; I’m not popular. I don’t have the views I claim to have, like the music I claim to like, or party the way people see. I’m not okay with the things I say I’m okay with, and besides Kate, I don’t love the people I claim to love. I dowant Spellbound, more than anything, but I can’t face that.

This is the root of our nature—we hate ourselves and we don’t know why.

This is the root of our nature—we numb ourselves until we die.

So what if lying is my way of numbing myself?

It’s a hell of a lot better than the truth.

- - - - -

Jason and I don’t say anything to each other for the entire car ride. It doesn’t really bother me. We don’t always talk, and we don’t always have to. That’s one of the best things about Jason—how simple he is. All I have to do is kiss him to shut him up, flirt to keep him from getting mad at me, and look pretty to keep him from being a jerk. He’s just like all the other guys in the world, and that’s how I like it—how I need it.

No complications.

The same reason I can’t take Spellbound. I want him, more than just about anything—probably even more than I used to want Milo—because I know that Spellbound will never break my heart. I’m safe with Spellbound. Even seeing what he did to Fiona doesn’t scare me. 

The only thing that scares me is the thought of him being mine.

Complication.

Too much happiness, which could lead to too much sadness.

When we pull up to my house, I expect Jason to invite himself in, but he doesn’t. I hardly ever invite him in, and he knows that. I don’t ask him what’s wrong; I just thank him for the ride and head inside.

I’m so tired.

I step into the shower in a daze. Sometimes I feel like I live my whole life in a daze. It’s like someone put me on pause and forgot to hit play again.

I pay little attention to myself in the shower anymore. I don’t like looking at my body or my reflection in the mirror, because it doesn’t feel like mine. I’m used to being scrawny and cute at best, my dark hair shaggy and unkempt, my body stickly. But, somehow, in the past year, I’ve blossomed into a different girl—one with the curves, locks, and complexion all the other girls want. That blossoming is what got me Jason. It’s what got me this new life I lead—for better or for worse.

I still didn’t like looking in the mirror.

Look, I know how f****d up I am. I know how miserable I am. And it isn’t just me, because I know that Kate is pretty f****d up, too. I guess that’s why I hold onto her so tightly.

Or maybe it’s because she’s the only piece of my past I have left.

No one is home. It’s rare, these days, that anyone is. Mom and Dad, who are too proud to admit that their relationship is failing, make up excuses to avoid the house as much as possible. Dad usually stays at his secretary’s house—she’s the mistress, of course. I don’t know who Mom is with, but considering what a workaholic she is, she probably doesn’t have a beau. 

And Alex, well, I don’t know where she is. Alex stopped talking to me about a year ago and stopped looking at me some time after. Now I’m pretty sure she doesn’t see me at all. She used to be an amazing sister. I don’t blame her for trying to forget I exist.

I try to think of something to do, but I’m really struggling. I’m starting to wish Jason invited himself in. Times like this are what I try hardest to avoid—times where I have to deal with myself because I’m not in the company of someone else I can deal with instead. And apparently Kate is still mad at me, because still she hasn’t called.

After a year of this, I’d expect myself not to care any more, or at least for it to fade. Aren’t things supposed to hurt less over time?

I’m truly jealous of those people—the ones who move on. Because it doesn’t work that way for me.

- - - - -

It’s weird, going back to school on Monday. That always happens after an eventful weekend, but not to this extent. Monday morning feels like the first day of school all over again.

Jason gets to my house on time, as usual. I rely on him for everything, including my ride to school. Sure, I have Alex, but she doesn’t want to drive me any more than I want her to.

I greet Jason with a kiss, not putting much into it. He notices, but doesn’t mention it. “Have you talked to Kate yet?” he asks me. 

I shake my head. “She hasn’t called. I stopped trying after the first few. I guess I’ll head over after school.”

He nods. “Good idea. I’ll drop you off.”

“Gee, thanks. I know how out of the way it is,” I say sarcastically. I meant for it to be mean, but it comes out funny, and I have to laugh. Jason laughs, too, and for some bizarre reason, soon we’re both cracking up. 

“We have a lot of fun together,”Jason says as he pulls up to the school. “Don’t we?”

“It’s why I keep you around,” I tease as we head in. He walks me to my locker and keeps me company until the bell rings.

Because Jason (like Kate) is a senior and I’m a junior, I hardly see him at all during the day. I spend the first four periods in what Kate refers to as “my ultimate low,” which means hours of meaningless giggling with girls I can’t stand and gossiping about subjects I couldn’t care less about. Finally lunch comes, and Jason and I ditch to drive to Chipotle. While we’re there, my phone buzzes with a text.

“It’s from Kate,” I tell him.

Stayed home today. Feel like ditching? Need you.

I glance at the time, then at Jason. “Would you mind taking me to Kate’s? You’ll be back before the bell rings.”

Jason frowns. “I guess I’m not invited?”

I bite my lip. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“Anything for you, babe,” he says, smiling again. 

It’s odd—I get the feeling he actually wants me to see her. When I ask him about it in the car, he explains.

“You’re yourself around her. I mean, you’re yourself around me, but not as much. I want that for you, even if you don’t think I do.”

I smile as best I can; I don’t like talking about this, especially with him. Jason is the best guy I could ask for, especially in my situation, but he is breaking our unspoken agreement not to talk about things like this. I wait impatiently for the remaining minutes to pass and thank him shortly when we get there.

“Kate?” I shout when I reach her door, knocking aggressively.

She opens it almost immediately.

She doesn’t look good. Her fair skin is too pale, and she hasn’t brushed out her tangled mane of dirty blond hair. Her thick, brown eyes look almost haunted.

“I’m freaking out,” she confesses.

“Sit down,” I tell her gently, and she sits on the sofa. I sit only once I’m sure she’s comfortable.

“I can’t shower,” she tells me. “I can’t change. I’ve been wearing the same clothes I wore to the party. I can’t call anyone, or talk to my mom or Bruce.”

I don’t understand. “Why?”

“Because,” she whispers, her voice shaking, “he watches me.”

I have never been more angry in my life. Not with my father for having an affair, nor my mother for not confronting him when she found out about it. Not with Kate’s mother for not helping Kate through her father’s death, and not with Milo for breaking every inch of my heart. 

Never have I hated anyone as much as I now hate Cole West.

“Kate,” I sigh, hugging her tightly and not letting go. “You have to get past this. Close your blinds; lock your door. That I’d understand. But this… I’m just worried. You have to live.”

She just shakes her head.

“Why didn’t you go to school?” I ask. “Because he’d be there?”

She shrugs out of my grip. My throat tightens a little. It hurts, being shrugged away, and yet I’ve done it to Jason dozens of times. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she says shortly.

“Yes, you do. That’s why you called me over.” I hear the desperation in my own voice.

“Shut up,” she mutters feebly. 

“Kate.” I shake my head. “If you don’t want to talk, I understand. But you have to stop hiding.”

For the first time, a hint of ferocity stirs in her eyes. “What?”

“You can’t hide,” I repeat. “You’ve got to face this.”

“I’ve got to…” She trails off, and it takes her a second to speak again. “Never,” she says darkly, “say anything like that to me again, Brooke. Okay? Just… don’t.”

I don’t understand. Kate, who never expresses herself to anyone, even me, is suddenly patronizing me? “Why?”

“Because you’re you! Your entire life is a lie—you’re the queen of hiding! You hide from everything and everyone! You’re just this shell of a girl, too scared to be yourself, using me as your crutch. And I’m okay with that, Brooke, because that’s what I signed up for. That’s our relationship. That’s how it works with you—you help others so they can help you. You do it with me and with Jason. We don’t mind. But don’t you dare tell me to stop hiding. Because that, Brooke, that I’m not okay with.”

I’m stunned—honestly, sincerely stunned. And hurt. Most of it, I can take. But her saying she’s my crutch? That I use her and she uses me? I can accept that’s the deal with Jason, but Kate?

As for the rest… it isn’t news to me. I’m not surprised to hear it. But I’m surprised to hear it from her. And put so… harshly. To me, before, living a lie wasn’t a bad thing. It was just been a… thing. A way of dealing. 

“I’m sorry,” Kate says. “That was too much.”

I say nothing. I’m not sure what I can say.

The knock on the door interrupts both of us. Kate’s eyes turn to mine, and I instantly forget all my frustrations toward her as they are replaced by fear for both of us.

It’s not him.

Right?

“Check,” I suggest, already knowing what her response will be.

“Can’t,” she whispers.

I nod grimly and stand, walking shakily to the door, and carefully bring my eye to the peep hole.

I almost scream. 

He knows exactly where to look, and even if he doesn’t see me, he sees me.

Cole West.

I run over to Kate and drag her up the stairs, my heart pounding, more scared than I’ve ever been before. I try to remind myself that I have no real reason to be scared, but it doesn’t make a difference. The look on Kate’s face shows that she is, too.

“Pretend you’re not home,” I whisper. “Stay on the staircase. I’ll call Jason.”

Kate says nothing as I pull out my phone. Jason doesn’t answer—of course not; he’s in school. But he texts me. 

Everything ok?

Cole, I reply. At Kate’s.

He responds in seconds. I’m coming. Stay hidden.

But when I look up from my phone, I see that Kate is standing.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” she whispers, shaking her head and taking a step toward the door. I try to stop her, but she pushes past me. “Don’t tell me to stop hiding and then in your next breath tell me to hide.”

I hate how right she is.

“I need to face this,” she says. “Hide, if you want. I’d expect nothing less of you.”

I want to cry, but I won’t. I haven’t cried in years, and I don’t expect to any time soon. Instead, I say one final word. “Please.”

“No. Go to the bathroom. You’ll hear everything. Call the cops if it gets messy.”

And she heads for the door.

I feel my legs walking over to the bathroom, my body lurching onto the cold, stone sink, my eyes straying to the ghastly reflection of my face in the mirror, my hands locking the door behind me. But I don’t live any of it, because my mind is in a completely different place—the place where the only person I truly love insulted me with every bit of her heart, and is now in more danger than I have ever known. 

And I’m hiding in a f*****g bathroom.

I wait, listening for words, but I don’t hear anything. My mind flashes through a series of disturbing images—Cole slitting her throat; Cole smothering her with a pillow—but I try to calm myself before I do something I’ll regret. Before long, I hear footsteps. Smart, Kate. She’s leading him near the door.

I hold my breath.

“I told you,” Kate tells him, “to stay away from me.”

He says nothing.

“Have you been ‘watching’ me again?” she asks him.

A pause, but this time I hear the familiar, terrible smoothness of his voice. “No. We’re friends now, Kate. I don’t need to watch you. I can talk to you.”

“We’re not friends.”

A mistake. And yet, I’m glad she said it.

He doesn’t sound angry. “I thought you’d say that. I understand why. It’s Brooke, isn’t it? Jason, too, but only because she’s influencing him. She’s a siren that way. You know the siren?”

“The women who sing to sailors.”

“To their deaths.”

Another pause, elevated this time by my heart skipping a beat. He’s a psycho, of course; being hated by him shouldn’t upset me so much. But it does. 

“You should leave,” Kate says, her voice meek. “I need you to leave.”

“You need me to stay.”

Silence.

“Tell me about Brooke and Jason,” Cole commands. “Tell me about Brooke especially. Do you two talk about me?”

“What?”

“Do you talk about me? Does she tell you to stay away from me?”

“Of course she does!” Good. Finally, some ferocity. Says the girl cowering in the bathroom. “Everyone does. They’d be crazy if they didn’t. I tell me to stay away from you.”

“Because of Brooke.”

Is this guy just… lacking, mentally? Does he really not understand? Does he have to blame everything on me?

“No,” Kate says, “because of you. Because you watch me; because you scare me; because you’re not normal and you have problems and Jason was right to hit you.”

No, Kate. Stop it. Say what he wants. Wait until Jason gets here.

“Why did we meet at the party?” he asks her. “Was it Jason’s idea?”

“I agreed.”

“You didn’t come up with it.”

“Cole, stop.”

Another pause.

“I’ve been watching Brooke, too,” Cole says, and my heart skips more than one beat this time. “Not as much as you, of course. But I heard her at that stable, talking to Fiona and Jason. She hates me. She is the reason.”

“That’s not true.”

“Every time you deny it, it makes me blame her more.”

I feel myself sink to the floor, but I don’t hear it, and neither, apparently, do they. I’m shaking, and my head is spinning, and I’m sweating, yet freezing.

“Blame me,” Kate pleads.

“I can’t. All I can do is… love you.”

And then I hear a shriek, and I know what that shriek means, and before I knew what my body is doing, I feel it opening the door and jumping on Cole, yanking him away from Kate, whose lips he’s just smashed his own against.

“You’re here?” Cole shouts as he shoves me off him. “What is wrong with you?”

I don’t let the fear show on my face. Only fury. “Don’t you dare ask me what’s wrong with me. Get the f**k out of my best friend’s house.”

He doesn’t move a muscle.

“Now,” I hiss. There’s more authority and bite to my voice than ever before, and I can tell he hears it, too. His black eyes are furious, but yielding.

“This isn’t over,” he says, but he leaves.

Kate and I collapse into a hug, and I let her cry in my arms until Jason gets there.

It’s the first time he hasn't been able to rescue me.

Or maybe it’s just the first time I realized it.