A Loaded Gun

Chapter 13

Marcus POV

I knew exactly what those marks were. I had experience with them. I went through the same thing with Daniel; when he finally understood why she left, it was how he coped with Mom leaving. 

It took me a while to convince him to go to therapy and start on antidepressants. They leave him grumpy, which explains but does not excuse his behavior towards Brooke. I was just hoping she would tell me the truth this time.

"I tripped and fell on the rug in my room. It left a rash." No such luck. I am very close to snapping. She has done nothing but lie since she got here. 

I instead took a deep breath and exhaled through my nose, attempting to calm my rising anger. Her eyes widened and she attempted to back away but ran into a wall. I was just breathing, why is she freaking out?

"Alright. I'll leave it for now. This is the medicine room, so if you need band aids or Neosporin come in here." 

I knew there was nothing I could do to stop her from scratching right now, but I could help her cover and heal them. However, if she scratched, it may escalate to cutting and I refuse to allow that.

"Go back to your room, we'll go to Staples in a bit." She nodded and scrambled away. I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "Capo."

"After we leave for the store this afternoon, go into my sister's room and remove anything that could be used as a weapon. Mirrors, razors, all of it. I don't want a single sharp object left in that room."

"Yes sir. I understand." He knew better than to question me.

I hung up the phone and rubbed my forehead. This is exhausting. I'm glad we took her in, but taking care of her is turning out to be way harder than I thought. 

I'm only 24 years old but I'm in charge of three boys and a teenage girl. Sighing, I made my way back to Brooke's room and knocked on her door. She opened it, rubbing her eyes, but I still noticed the red rings around them.

"Come on, we're going to Staples."

We climbed in my Aston Martin and I revved down the driveway. She stayed silent, not a single emotion on her face. 

I glanced over at her as I drove, my sudden question breaking the silence making her jump. "So you're 16. Do you have a driver's license?" She ducked her head, in...embarrassment?

"No, we only had one car so Benny used it. He said there was no point in learning how to drive if I didn't have a car."

"Alright, we'll fix that. You'll get a car and a license, everyone should have one."

Her eyes widened. "You don't need to do that, I'll be fine."

"Brooke, when will you understand that we have plenty of money? Do I need to show you our bank accounts? I know you didn't exactly live great with your stepdad, but you're with us now. You can ask for anything and we'll get it for you. Doesn't matter what it is, we can get it." 

I tried to keep my voice soft but I was getting exasperated with her humble attitude. She's an Amoretti for God's sakes, she should have been living like a princess her whole life. Since that wasn't an option, she's now going to live like a queen with us.

She just nodded quietly and looked out the window. I couldn't get a response from her. We pulled up to Staples and she quickly got out of the car, as if she couldn't stand being in close quarters with me. 

Not gonna lie, that hurt. I barely heard her hiss of pain when her feet slammed onto the pavement. She looked over at me in panic as if wondering if I heard. I did, but she doesn't need to know that.

I grabbed a cart and we wandered through the store, grabbing binders, notebook paper, a planner, mechanical pencils, and pens. I stopped in front of the calculators, intending to get her the best graphing calculator available. She, however, walked past without a glance.

"Brooke," I called out. "You're going to need a calculator for school." She frowned like I was crazy. "No I don't. Why would I need a calculator?"

"...to do math?"

"I can do that in my head, what are you talking about?"

"What kind of math can you do in your head? What's 7 cubed?"
"343. 8 cubed is 512 and 9 cubed is 729. Would you like me to do the squares as well?"

"Can you find the derivative of x squared?"

"Yeah, it's 2x." How the hell does she know all that? My confusion must have shown on my face, because she quickly explained, "Numbers have always come easy to me. I enjoy working with them, so it was easy to learn."

"...alright. I'm still getting you a calculator for graphing purposes. It'll come in handy, trust me."

"Ok," she said doubtfully. Her eyes widened as she looked at the price of a pretty mint green TI-84 Plus CE, and she glanced at me before shaking her head. I sighed heavily.

"Brooke, what did I just tell you? $150 is nothing. That's what I spend on a single meal for myself. We're getting it, you like the color I can tell." She nodded reluctantly before giving up.

So fixated on pushing our almost-full cart, I didn't realize her zone out while walking. My eyes widened as I noticed her heading straight for a column.

"Brooke, watch out for the–" it was too late. Her chest slammed into the concrete pillar and she groaned in pain, clutching her ribs. 

Why the hell would someone put a column in the middle of an aisle? Also, she barely bumped into it; she shouldn't be this hurt. 

I rushed over to her curled up on the floor and pulled her gently to her feet. I gave her a quick once-over to make sure there were no visible injuries, but stopped when I saw the look of agony on her face.

"What hurts? What's wrong? Brooke, tell me what's wrong."

"N-nothing's wrong, my cramps just got bad for a second. I'm fine."

"Uh-huh." She's not telling the truth. I've had enough of this, I'm finding out what is going on as soon as we get home. 

I rushed her through the checkout, hiding her eyes from the total and hurrying her into the car. I must have broken 5 different traffic laws driving out of the parking lot alone, but I didn't care. I can get out of the tickets.

As I drove, I looked at her periodically. She looked woozy, like she was about to pass out. "Brooke, are you okay?"

"I-I'm fi–" her eyes closed and she slumped down in her seat.

"Brooke! Damnit, wake up!" I slammed on the gas and swerved around curves before screeching to a halt on our driveway. She was still unconscious. 

Scooping her up in my arms, I burst through the front door. "LUCAS! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" Thumps were heard on the stairs as Lucas tore down the steps. "Marcus, what's wrong? Is it Brooke?" 

His panicked tone alerted the other two boys, and Michael and Daniel came running. They all gasped as they saw Brooke's limp body lying in my arms, and Michael's eyes filled with tears. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," I said grimly. "But we're going to find out right now."