"Talking to my mother, why?"
"Why are you being so rude to her?"
"I told you when we got here that I was in no mood to entertain."
"That does not mean that you can treat your mom like shit!"
"Oh...fuck you, Dylan. Don't preach to me what I can and can't do. You may be my husband, but you don't own me."
"Where the hell is all of this coming from? This isn't like you, Brooke. You weren't acting like this on the plane."
"Well, D. This is the new me. So, you either take it or leave it."
"That's where you're wrong. The Brooke that I know and love would never treat me, her mother or anybody like this. Get your act together and behave like a lady. I don't give a shit if you have to paint a smile on that face, show some fucking respect!"
"Oh, I'll show some respect, but only because you asked so nicely, asshole. Now excuse me, I need to use the restroom," I said, pushing past him.
How could I respect a woman who allowed a man to treat her child like shit all of her life? I knew Dylan was pissed, and I'm sure he had good reason to be. But, even though he was angry with me, I knew he'd never do anything to demean me or harm me. I was angry all around. I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror. I really didn't know who it was that was staring back at me. It wasn't just my appearance that had been altered, but I had been altered.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be when I came home. It was supposed to be a happy time with my family, a fresh start to my new life. But it wasn't. I was more confused and angry than I ever could have imagined.
I took deep breaths as I stood there looking in the mirror. The harder I looked at myself, the harder I breathed. Rage rolled through my body, increasing my adrenaline, causing my heart to beat faster than it had ever beat before. The tears fell heavy from my eyes as my past began catching up with me. Who the fuck was I? How did I get here? No one really loves me. I had finally hit rock bottom. I hated myself and it didn't matter how times Dylan or my mother told me they loved me, I didn't believe them.
I loathed everything about myself. My inability to carry a baby, my inability to have a father that loved me, and the fact that I had killed my own sister and my first love. What made me so special? Why didn't I die in that accident, too? Why did Dylan and Tristan have to save me?
I couldn't take it, anymore. I would never be worthy of Dylan's real, true love. I was a girl from the wrong side of the tracks and a menace to the Prescott legacy. Once he knew the truth about me and what I'd done, he would never want anything to do with me again. I didn't deserve to have his children, because I was damaged goods.
I was overtaken by rage as I took my hands and slammed them against the bathroom mirror. I hit the mirror over and over again screaming, "Why not me, God. Why not me?"
I heard Dylan outside the door, pleading with me to open the door. The only problem was, that I couldn't have opened the door even if I wanted to. My hands and arms were so badly cut, and I was losing the battle of trying not to fall asleep. I curled up on the cold tile as I started to drift off into a peaceful sleep.
The bathroom door flew open and I heard someone yell, "Call 911". Dylan sat on the floor, holding me in his lap, pulling out shards of glass and wrapping my hands and arms in towels. He rocked me back and forth as he cried, begging me not to leave him, again. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean what I said. Please don't leave me. Please. I am nothing without you. I won't make it if I lose you, again. God, please don't take her from me. Please, God, I'm begging you."
CHAPTER 7
Dylan
I was losing her, again. That was all I could think of as I held her lifeless body in my arms. I should never have come down on her the way that I did, but she was being so disrespectful to her mother, and I just didn't understand it. I knew her mood was changing as we approached the city, but I figured she was just tired.
The ambulance showed up shortly after we'd called. I rode in the back with Brooke to the hospital. They were trying to stabilize her and had given her something in her IV to sleep. The paramedics couldn't tell me much, just that I'd have to wait until a doctor took a look her. Either way, I knew that my wife wasn't well and that she would need psychological help, immediately. I had hoped that we could figure it out on our own, but seeing the state she was in now, I knew that wasn't going to happen.
A team of doctors and nurses were waiting for us when we arrived at the emergency room. They rushed to the back of the ambulance and wheeled Brooke quickly into a room. A young nurse approached me and explained that I should be seated in the waiting room until a doctor was available to speak with me.
I didn't want to leave her, but I had no choice. I was sore myself and I knew there was nothing I could do to help my girl. I felt helpless and sad. Worse than I'd ever felt in my life. I had found her and she wanted to leave me, again. I sat with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, and began to cry.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up. It was Tristan. He'd come alone and I wondered why.
"I'm here, man. Whatever you need. Just say the word."
"Thanks for coming. Where's everyone else?"
"Stephanie is driving your mom and Mary. They'll be here soon. I just didn't think that you should be alone."
"Thanks, T. You're a good friend."
"Would you like some coffee or something to drink?"
"Sure. Coffee would be good."
"I'll be right back."
I sat, trying to figure out what my next move would be. I needed to get Brooke help, but she couldn't stay here. The media would be all over this and it wasn't something that my family needed. I was going to have to find a private facility for her to go. There was no way I could take her home, because I couldn't trust her to be alone when I returned to Prescott Oil and Gas International as CEO.
Tristan returned with our drinks as we waited to hear from the doctor.
"You sure about this, Dylan?"
"Sure about what?" I asked.
"Brooke."
"What about her?"
"Man...".
"What, Tristan? Just say it."
"She's been nothing but trouble since the first day you met her."
"Fuck you!"
"I'm not trying to be an asshole, here."
"Well, you're sure coming off like one."
"All I'm saying, is that ever since she came into your life, you've had nothing but drama and shit."
"I think you need to rethink your words, Tristan."
"How much more shit can you put up with, Dylan?"
"As much as it takes."
"You sure you're ready for that?"
"What the fuck is your deal, asshole?"
"I don't want to see my best friend miserable, anymore."
"She's my fucking wife! Do you understand that? For better or worse, in sickness and in health! I can't just walk away from her, just because the going gets tough."
"I hear you, man, but what if she never gets better? What if the damage is too much? You have to face the facts, that she may never be the same."
"You don't think I haven't thought about this?"
"I'm sure you have. I just wonder when you're going to accept it."
"I'll tell you what. I'll accept it when you finally admit that you have feelings for Stephanie. How does that sound?"
"I'll leave you alone. I can see that now isn't the time for us to have this conversation."
"Do you think? My wife is cut all to shit in there, and I have no idea what the fuck is going through her head, and you want to me to walk out on her? You've overstepped your bounds with me, brother, and I think you should leave."
"I'm sorry, Dylan. I really am."
Tristan stood, just as the others walked in.
"Any word on Brooke, yet?" Steph asked.
"No. Not yet," I replied.
"I hope she's not injured too bad," she said, shooting me an accusing look. "What the hell did you say to her, anyway?"
Fuck! I was pissed
. "I didn't say anything to her that was out of line. She was being disrespectful to your mother and I told her to knock it off. Not that it's really any of your business, what I say to my wife."
"Well, excuse me for giving a shit! Someone has to, since it's obvious that she feels no one does."
"Has it ever occurred to you, Stephanie, that maybe she's upset with you?"
"With me? Why the hell would she have an issue with me?"
"Oh...I don't know. Maybe because she thinks you had a perfect life."
She put her hand up. "I had a perfect life? Whatever."
"Well, maybe in her eyes you did, regardless of what the truth really is."
My mother stepped in between us. "You two need to stop this, right now. You're not doing yourselves any good by blaming each other, and you most certainly are not helping Brooke."
"I didn't start this, Mother."
"Dylan Matthew, it's over! You have more important things to worry about right now, and arguing with your sister-in-law isn't going to solve shit!"
We had managed to piss my mom off, because she never swore, unless she was really angry. I knew better than to argue, even at my age. I couldn't even begin to imagine how she was feeling. She had just lost her husband, and her son had just returned home with his fragile wife.
Brooke's mom said nothing. She sat quietly in a waiting room chair, off in her own, little world. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of shit had gone on in their house while the girls were growing up. Something inside told me that there was more to all of this than anyone was willing to let on.
Looking back, I should have known that something was up, when Brooke started asking about Thomas in the car. It was odd, because she never asked about him. Before she had been kidnapped, she had made it very clear that she no longer wanted anything to do with him. I had so many questions, and the only person that could answer them, was lying in a hospital bed with her secrets.
"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom, " I said to my mother as I pushed past her. I entered the bathroom and turned on the water. I let it run until it was ice cold. I was in a daze, just standing there, looking at myself in the mirror. I leaned down toward the sink and splashed water on my face, hoping that it would awaken me from my current nightmare. I was going crazy, not knowing what was going on with Brooke.
I grabbed a handful of paper towels and blotted my reddened face. I made my way back to the waiting room, just as the doctor was coming through the emergency room doors.
"Mr. Prescott?"
"I'm right here," I said, waving my hand as I walked faster toward him.
As I approached, he pointed me over to a corner where we had some privacy away from the others.
"Mr. Prescott, your wife has sustained serious injuries to her hands. However, she didn't sever any tendons or arteries. We cleaned her cuts and gave a few stitches in her right hand, which should be completely healed in a couple of weeks. What I am concerned about, Mr. Prescott, is her mental state of mind. We are placing her on a seventy-two hour suicide watch, here on our psychiatric unit."
I gave a nod. "Can I see her, now?"
"Yes, she's been asking for you, but she made it very clear that she doesn't want any other visitors at this time."
"Understood. Thank you, doctor."
"I'll take you to her, now."
I followed the good doc into Brooke's room and closed the door for privacy. I walked closer to her bed and leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Hey, Princess, how you feeling?" I asked in a soft tone.
"Dylan," she said, as she began to cry.
"It's okay, baby. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," I replied, rubbing her cheek.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "It's just...everything. My mom, dad...Steph."
"I know, baby. I know. We don't have to talk about it, right now."
"But, I want to. I need to tell you, Dylan. I don't want any more secrets."
"I don't know if right now is a good time, Brooke. I really think you need to rest."
"Damn it, Dylan! You're pissing me off! I'm not a helpless child. Just sit your ass down in that chair and listen to what I have to say."
I had now been bitched out by the two most important women in my life. My wife, and my mother. I didn't argue. I did as she asked and sat in the chair next to her bed. I didn't know what I was in for, but I was concerned that whatever she had to tell me might cause her to have another mental breakdown. Then again, I wasn't sure I really wanted to hear what she had to say. It was easier pretending that everything was fine and that our life was going to be one, great, big fairytale. In reality, I knew that wasn't the case, but fuck, if I didn't want it to be.
"I'm all ears, Princess. Tell me what's on your mind."
"Dylan...I did terrible things. I'm pretty sure that after you hear what I've done, you will want absolutely, nothing to do with me, anymore."
"I'm not sure I understand. There is nothing in this world that can take me away from you, other than death. Do you hear me? Can you trust me enough, to tell me your secrets?"
"I don't know. I've been away for a long time, and returning home has been really hard for me. And what about you, Dylan? What about your secrets? Do you trust me enough to tell me yours?"
"I trust you with my life, Brooke. I haven't said anything, because I know that you have enough to deal with at the moment. What I have to share, can wait."
"You're wrong. I know there is something bothering you. I could sense it when we were in the hospital back in Prague. I didn't press you about it, because I figured you needed time to sort through whatever it was. I often wondered how it was that you got shot, when Alexi and Tristan had reassured me that you'd be okay. Then I found out you weren't. What the hell happened at Kristof's after I'd been rescued!!?"
"This isn't the time or place for this conversation, Brooke."
"Why won't you tell me? You expect me to spill my all of my ugly secrets to you, but you don't want to share anything about yourself with me."
"That's not it. I can't risk telling you anything here. There could be serious legal ramifications if someone overheard."
Are you still fixing, Dylan?"
"What? No. Where the hell is that coming from?"
"I know that's what started all of this. I know that's why you won't talk to me."
"Stop, Brooke. We are not having any more of these little talks until you get the help you need, and I feel like I can talk to you without being backed in a corner. Let's just focus on getting you out of here and back to the life you once knew."
"Do you honestly think you can fix me, Dylan?"
"I will do whatever I can to bring you back to me. No matter what it takes."
"You might be waiting a long time, Cowboy. I hope you're saddled up, because you're in for one hell of a ride."
"Don't you worry, I'm ready for whatever your dishing out. I'm going to step out for a few, and let the others know that you're going to alright."
"Who all is here?"
"Everyone."
"Is Thomas here, too?"
I gave her an odd look, because the question struck me as strange, much like in the car. "No, Princess. Thomas is missing, remember? We don't know where he is. The only people here are our mother's, Tristan and Stephanie."
"I don't want to see any of them. Only you."
"I understand, and I hear you loud and clear. I need you to do something for me, though. Do you think you can do it?"
She nodded her head and then raised her bandaged hands, reaching for a hug. I wrapped my arms around her and whispered in her ear, "Please close your eyes and get some sleep."
She agreed, and I left the room to go tell the others that she was going to be fine. It felt like a lie, but one that I needed to be told, so that we could hang onto any hope that we had.
CHAPTER 8
Brooke
Dylan left me to be alone with my thoughts. I was going crazing inside, not being able to tell him what I needed to. I t
old him I trusted him, but deep down inside, I trusted no one. His inability to share with me, didn't make it any easier.
He had returned shortly after he'd left to tell me that I would be spending the next three days in the psych ward and that visits from the outside would be prohibited. I suppose I had earned that stay, after I'd gone ape-shit in the bathroom at home. I didn't deny that I needed help, I just didn't know where to turn to get it.
No matter how I tried to talk to him, it all came out as if I was accusing him of something. The more I thought about it, I guess I was. I was angry that he had promised to take care of me and keep me safe, but he didn't. Logically, I knew that he couldn't. There was no way he could have foreseen the events that had taken place back in Ireland. But a part of me hated him for leaving me alone in that garden.
I was taken to my room on the fourth floor of St. Joseph's Hospital and locked in. The walls were white and the windows had bars on them. There was nothing welcoming or warm about where I would spend the next three days. The only comforting thing about the room was the view of the city lights through the barred window. I had seen them shining like this before, on the night I first stayed at Dylan's penthouse. I suddenly missed him. I wanted to be in his arms and have him hold me tight and tell me that everything was going to be alright. I needed the reassurance that our love was strong enough to keep us bonded together.
It was times like this, when I felt the loneliest. It took me to a dark place, a time when I was a small child, left to try and sort my feelings of guilt and inadequacy on my own. I had no real guidance from either one of my parents. One would abuse, while the other turned away. How could my mother not have known what kind of a monster my father was? I had wanted to ask that question for so many years, but out of respect for my parents, I didn't.
I now understood that by never saying anything or standing up for myself, I allowed myself, once again, to be a victim. I vowed at that moment, that I would never allow someone to victimize me, again. I was a survivor, and I would survive this too. I just needed an outsider to help me get there and sort through all the mixed-up shit in my head.
Redemption (Book 3) The Fixer Series Page 5
