For the Different Monster - Chapter Three

It had only been four days since the trial. She had imagined that she would be so hopeful at this point. Finally being rid of that monster, she should be happy, but now she faced another monster. Brooke was demoralized and confused. She tried to calm herself but the pain in her face, the pain in her heart and the pain in her soul were overwhelming and wouldn’t allow for it. Her thoughts turned to suicide but she knew herself well enough to know that aside from maybe taking some pills, she didn’t have the strength to take her own life. Her sense of self preservation was too strong. She thought of possibly running away but with no money, family or friends she knew she wouldn’t survive.

Brooke took several deep breaths. Finally able to calm herself down, she dug around in her bag to find something with which to twist up her hair, walked to the sink and splashed some cool water on her face. Inspecting her reflection in the mirror, she hated the face staring back at her. She was overcome with the feeling of regret and thought of her brother in that moment. She wondered if his situation was any better. She suspected that things were worse for him; before she came forward with the evidence against their father, he was content. She shrugged those thoughts off, they would do her no good. She pulled a towel from the dispenser, wiped her face and then proceeded to her room.

Laying on her bed, all Brooke could think about was Jada and how to remedy this problem. She sat up, grabbed the notebook off of the table that sat on side of the bed and started to write. Writing was the way she has coped with the horrors of her life. She never wrote anything specific - just thoughts, quotes and sometimes doodles. She remained in her room the rest of the day and when the sun no longer shined through her window, she put her notebook back on the table, laid her head on her pillow, and fell asleep. Brooke had an amazing ability to shut her brain off when it was time to sleep. She slept for 12 hours that night.

Brooke woke up the next morning to one of the chopsticks she had twisted in her hair, poking at the back of her neck. She grabbed it, slid the other from her hair and placed them both on top of the notebook. She sat up on the side of the bed and looked at the clock. It was seven o’clock. Despite the significant amount of rest, she felt exhausted. She was not ready to face the day. She hung her head in desperation and looked at her feet, dangling an inch from the floor. She thought about how Jada’s size in comparison to her own. Brooke had no delusions. She had to find a way to level the playing field. She would have preferred to go back to bed and have her wish of not waking again. She looked at the clock again - only five minutes had passed. She glanced back at the chopsticks - the wooden sticks that had always held her hair off of her neck and out of her face. A thought popped in her head and it made her sick. It was like a punch in the gut. She was scared of the images that plagued her, but decided it was the solution to her dilemma. Brooke was tired of being afraid. It was time to change things, or at least try. She might not be successful and she knew it was not right, but no matter what happened, it would certainly change things.

_^Source

The girls were allowed to go outside at nine in the morning for some social and recreational time. Brooke usually avoided this and went to the library to read. She thought that she would break routine and join the others outside. She picked up one of the chopsticks and went to the restroom where the floors were tiled. She walked to the last stall, locked the door, and began to rub the end of the chopstick along the sandy grout line between the tiles. It was working. It didn’t take long before the blunt end of the chopstick wore down to a nice narrow sharp point. She walked back down the quiet hallway to her room. Walking through the door, she crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed. Glancing once again at the clock, she counted the minutes again - only fifteen minutes had passed. Her heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it would punch a hole through her chest. She grabbed the other chopstick and twisted up her hair. She sat on side the bed, stared at the wall, and waited for the clock to strike nine.