𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 is the twin sister of John Booker Routledge, and the daughter of John Routledge. Brooklyn has always been close to her family, but until the disappearance of her father nine months ago, she and John B are on a mis...
season one ; episode eight { The Runaway } chapter thirty-five
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BROOKLYN WAS SAT IN HER ROOM. She had cuddled herself up in the sheets that smelt like weed and alcohol. Her head was buried her into her pillow and her arms cradled it like a baby. She fiddled with the necklace her father gave her, running it through her fingers. The skin from her bottom lip had been bitten off, her nails were being pulled off and the skin around her nails was itching to be ripped off.
She missed her father.
She glanced over at the photo of her father, her final safekeeping of him. She and John B had many more photos stashed away somewhere but this one that sat by her nightstand was her favourite. She was seven or eight years old and her father had taken her and John B out on their boat for the day. In the photo, the siblings held the biggest fish they've ever caught while their father crouched behind them with his arms around their shoulders. Smiling.
Her fingers traced the edges of the photo that she had never placed in a frame but had leaned against an old beer can. "I miss you, Dad." She said painfully and quiet, so quiet that she barely heard herself.
A few tears stained her freckled face the longer she stared at the photo. After the excruciating pain she felt earlier she was unsure how she could still cry.
"Kie! Pope! Brooklyn!" The photo had slipped out of her hands when she heard the voice of JohnB. She was on her feet, rushing to find him in the living room, standing in the mess of their home. "Hey."
"Hi." Brooklyn was lamely lifting her arms up in hope he would hug her. "Can I- I-."
John B started to move at a quick pace to meet her arms. Brooklyn wondered for a moment that she was hallucinating, but as John B grew closer she knew he was real.
He caught up to her, and he threw his arms around her. And ... hugged her.
She almost fell over from the impact. Her arms were pinned tightly to her sides and she felt like her ribs were about to snap.
Brooklyn was so surprised that all she could say was, "Ow."
He let go, and put his hands on her shoulders. Then he just looked at her for a second, his blue eyes shifting back and forth, his hair plastered around his face. His cheeks were kind of pink and he was breathing hard from probably running back to the Château. "I'm sorry," he said. "I f***ed up."
"What?"
"I mean, this isn't how it should've gone. With Dad. This shouldn't of happened."
