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Matthew: Hey, Brooke. Please call me back when you get this. I’m worried about you.
Why would he be worried?
Asher: Hey, I didn’t see you leave this morning.
Asher: I know you’re in there. Open the door.
Asher: Brooke?
I ignored his messages as well, and I went to sit down on my couch and stared at the television blankly as I took the pills.
I was the only member of the Taylor family who was still holding on to her pathetic life; it was only a matter of time before death came for me. My parents passed away in a car accident, I never knew my grandparents because they were dead and gone by the time I was born, I never had any uncles or aunts—odd—and the only person I had in my life didn’t want to stay.
I had run out of tears to cry for him; it didn’t hurt anymore, but it was numbing. I could barely think of taking care of myself because of the guilt that consumed me on a daily basis. It was unbearable.
It always sneaked up on me and consumed me whole. The pain that didn’t hurt anymore would become my companion on my brother’s birthday, numbing every emotion in me to either celebrate his birth or mourn his passing.
So, I always just sat in my apartment on my own, replaying the day before his passing, how we went out for dinner and had a spectacular time; I thought everything was okay. I thought my brother was happy at his job. I thought he was fulfilled in his life.
But the browning paper that sat on my coffee table said otherwise. As tradition on this tormented day, I would always read his letter to me. I found it a week after his suicide, and I broke down all over again. It felt like torture. I found his dead body in the apartment I only moved out of this year, and his letter?—
I heard a loud sharp noise against my door, and I sat up, alarmed as I watched it fall off its hinges, and the broken pieces snapped all over my floor before the door dropped, with a bang. Asher stood there, unapologetic as he walked into my apartment.
I was too tired for this.
“What’s your obsession with breaking my door?” I asked him as I brought my legs up on the couch. He approached me with a worried expression. That was the first time I had ever seen Asher be concerned about me.
Normally, his face was expressionless whenever he was around me, except when we were having sex.
“If you had opened up your door when I asked nicely, your door would still be on its hinges.” He sat on the coffee table before me, and I sighed as I looked at him. His frown was deep as he scanned my body.
“This time, you will pay for my door,” I told him, and he looked around my apartment.
“Why is it so dark in here?” he asked, and I smiled as I watched him.
“Please leave, I want to be alone,” I whispered as I got up from the couch, and he held my arm, his eyebrows pinched close to each other as he looked at me. “Make sure you put up my door when you leave.”
I tried to pull my hand from his hold, and he got up, pulling me into his arms. My eyes widened as he pressed my face against his chest, his hands gently stroking my hair.
I suddenly felt the tears that I hadn’t shed for my brother in years leave my eyes, and I sobbed my heart out as I wrapped my arms around Asher’s waist. Clinging to him desperately, not wanting him to leave like my brother did.
As I cried in his arms, I realized that I didn’t actually want to be alone today.
I found comfort in Asher.
After I cried my eyes out, Asher and I sat in my room, which he had carried me to. We sat in silence, and I couldn’t ignore his concerned gaze. Why did he stare so hard?
“You do need to fix my door, you know,” I laughed, and his expression didn’t change as he crossed his arms over his chest. He sat down on my chair across the room while I sat in my bed. I could feel sleep calling me because I just had a great crying session, and the aspirin I took earlier was kicking in.
But something told me that Asher wouldn’t leave even if I asked him nicely.
“Come stay with me while I get your door fixed and get a new door lock,” he said. I raised my eyebrows at his offer, and I shook my head.
“I can crash at Marie’s.”
“Marie isn’t the one who broke your door. Come stay with me; I insist.” My heart skipped a beat as I licked my lips. Why was he being so adamant?
“Come on, fixing a door doesn’t take that long. It’s just a few hours.” I argued, and he shook his head.
