The Tyrant's Trophy
Visiting Brooke

Abijah

I didn’t go back to the house. After leaving the Carters, I messaged Chad that Maybell would be better in his home for tonight and tomorrow. I knew that if I went home now, I would eventually slam on my fiancee. That was something I didn’t want to do - especially when Maybell was there.

I don’t beat my man, but I don’t go soft on him either. Physically, Basil can throw me to a wall with little effort but one thing I learned about my soon-to-be husband is that he’s a teddy bear. It’s easy to get payback with a man like that: I just need to face him bluntly and be as cold as possible to him.

Again, it wasn’t something I took pleasure in doing even if the man deserves it. Since being engaged, I’ve been working on my approach towards men - especially Basil. I’ve been trying to hold my feelings in check but it’s all too much.

I dialed Kelly’s number. “You alone?” I asked, not wanting to intrude on any more couples.

There was a brief pause. “Yes.”

“I’m coming over.” I didn’t need to explain the reason. Kelly knew me best, which is why we could say things like that to one another and not question it.

The drive wasn’t long thanks to it being nighttime; it meant there was little traffic in downtown Chicago. Times like this were precious to me: everything grew quiet and peaceful. Like time literally stopped its course to allow me a bit of breathing room.

I needed to breathe.

Kelly opened the door for me and brought me in with a hug. We ended up ordering some food and sitting at the table. I told her somewhat of the debates me and Basil had been having. How he pulled one way and I pulled the other.

“It’s not only that.” I confessed, “But it's like he doesn’t truly listen to me and it’s been that way since day one.” Since he came to me with that blasted book proposal. It’s because of that I can’t stand looking at myself sometimes.

Kelly didn’t have answers to give me. There were no words to offer except the common “I’m sorry,” and “It’ll be ok.” There was no ‘fixing’ Kelly could do for me because this was solely between me and Basil. However, I appreciated Kelly just sitting with me and listening. She doesn’t have to give me anything: no answers, no sweet sayings, because at the end of the night: she was with me.

She sat with me and gave me a bit of time and that’s a friend. I am really lucky to have her.

“So what are you doing tomorrow?” She asked; it was both our days off. “Want to do something.”

“I wish.” I stabbed my fork into the noodles we ordered. “But I’m actually going to visit Brooke.” Those codes in the journals just seemed too familiar. I know I’ve seen something like them when I was digging into my own sister’s background. That was a lead, I needed to follow. “Then after I need to talk to Basil.” Who has not called or spammed my phone with text messages - which is an odd thing in itself.

“Pity but hey, such is life. I have an idea!” Kelly practically squealed in my face. “We should have a girl’s night! We can be in a group of females and do something fun!”

That did sound nice. Immediately, the girls that came to mind were Kelly, Maybell, and Quinn. I liked those three and it would be great if we all could just get away from life’s stress for a night. “That’ll be fun.”

I chuckled at my friend’s victory squeal. I sat back and amusedly listened as Kelly planned out a girl’s night.

Yeah, I think every girl needs a friend like Kelly.

That night I drifted right to sleep.

I wish I hadn’t.

Dreams are a funny thing. I once talked with a psychologist who said in the REM stages, our mind processes events throughout our days but they twist because our memories tend to have holes in them. Due to this, our brain will fill those gaps with something new, which is why when we ‘remember’ something, the details slightly change.

I’m personally not sure of any of that but I do know this; dreams shift; they break and morph plenty of memories but they add things as a way of manifesting emotions. Some dreams are random, others are manifestations of emotional baggage, and very few are God whispers.

The dream I found myself having was in the middle and it reminded me of all the reasons why I should have walked away from Basil Beau.

In the dream, I was back in that abandoned condo, tied up and lethargic from the drugs my sister pumped into me. She was there, sitting on the floor and smiling down at me. She lifted my head to lay it on her lap and then she stroked my hair - almost sisterly. After that, blackness overtook me and the dream shifted.

I now lay on the stares in the halls, naked. It felt like something was stolen from me: Brooke stole something from me and I couldn’t place what it was but it felt violating. That was when Basil appeared; he called for me and stopped when he found me on the stares. I wanted to cover myself up and tell him what Brooke stole from me. I wanted him to help me - to SEE me.

But he didn’t. Basil stared at me but he made no move to help. Before I could even mouth a word, we heard Brooke humming back in the apartment and Basil’s attention went to her. His jaw went slightly ajar; pleasantly surprised that his first love was alive and well. Then he left me. Basil walked around me and he walked to his love; forgetting me.

I didn’t exist anymore. I was just the shadow, left to wallow in the dark.

That was when I awoke with this hollowness in my chest. The dream remained ingrained in my mind but I pushed it aside. Now wasn’t the time to wallow and think. I borrowed some of Kelly’s clothes; simple jeans and a T-shirt and headed to the penitentiary.

I knew the drill once I stepped foot inside. As I went through the usual procedure, I steeled myself to see Brooke. It would be an exact year and a half since that experience and I had hoped to never see her again - ever. However, I reminded myself that this is crucial for Maybell’s safety. Brooke is the only person I know who had notes similar to Phil’s.

She must know what those numbers mean.

I was escorted to a room with tables; the kind that looked like school lunchrooms. I sat at the table near the entrance guards and sat in the seat facing them. The wait was short; five minutes top, before a guard brought Brooke.

“Little sister!” Brooke chirped as she took the seat across from me. Her hair had grown longer and it felt weird seeing her without makeup and that deep red lipstick she was so fond of. Still, our resemblance remained uncanny despite my attempts to change that. “Oh, I’m so happy you came to see me. I was just telling some of my inmate friends how I wish we could see each other more.”

The first thing about my sister that I learned the hard way, is to never indulge in her conversations. It was her way of getting into people’s heads, psyching them out. It’s her best method. I need to avoid falling down her rabbit hole.

“I’m not here for pleasantries.” I glared while she faux pouted.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You’re still angry about that little spat we had last year, ay?” Though she spoke of it casually, it still made my skin crawl. I could feel her hands on me, despite us being a good distance away. For a split second, those cold eyes made me think I was back in that room, but I snapped myself out of it and maintained my glare. This earned me a smirk. “You’re glare always amuses me, little sister. You win; I’ll cooperate.”

Yeah…that’s not like Brooke at all.

Before I could begin interrogating her, she reached and grabbed my left hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything, hon. I already know about that little stray you brought in.” She examined my engagement ring before letting go. “A precious companion of a good Dr. I hear.”

“How did you know?” I peeked at the guards, wondering if they were perhaps some of Brooke’s lackeys in disguise.

“I heard from a friend.” Brooke laughed at me. “Relax, Abi. Gosh, you are paranoid. However, it would be easier to talk to you, dear sister, if the guards stood outside.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Like I’ll give you a chance to attack me.

Brooke shrugged. “Oh well. I guess another time then.” She signaled the guards to take her back to her cell. “Such a shame; I heard the owner of that sweet pup is quite desperate to get her back. He’ll move heaven and hell for his lost pet, so you better hang onto her tightly.”

I tsked, knowing she bested me. She made it clear she knew about Maybell and Dr. Sweetheart. It scared me to realize this but I needed answers. Reminding myself that this was about another’s life at stake, I stopped her. “Fine. I’ll ask for them to stand outside.”

Her smirk made me want to slap her. After talking it over with the guards, they consented and reassured me that they would come in at any sound of a struggle. I prayed a struggle wouldn’t happen and that what the guards said was true.

Sitting back in the seats, Brooke’s smirk widens. “I knew you couldn’t resist. That pet has you wrapped around her little finger.”

“She’s not manipulative like you, Brooke.” I quipped, annoyed with Maybell being referred to as an animal. “You said you’ll cooperate.”

“I did.” She sighed. “Now what did you bring me?”

I took out the journal with the numbers and notes but before handing them to my sister, I had to ask; “Why are you helping? There’s nothing for you to gain from helping me.” What exactly was her goal here?

She took the journal, shrugging. “There’s nothing I want to gain from this. I already achieved what I wanted last year.”

“It landed you here. You failed.” I pointed out, but my sister’s smirk never left her mouth.

She continued reviewing the journal; going over each number carefully, and repeating them over and over. After a couple of minutes or so, she slid the book back to me. She pointed to some numbers on the page. “You believe that this is some code, yes? That’s why you brought it to me.” I nodded. “Is this why you thought that?”

She tapped at a group of numbers that matched the ones she burned into my arm last year: 2596. Numbers that I can’t ever get off of me.

“You had those numbers written in your notes as well.” Subconsciously, I grabbed my arm. “I didn’t think it was a coincidence that those numbers would repeat themselves in that order. It’s what told me they weren’t drug prescriptions.”

“Well, you’re correct about that but wrong about it being a code.” Leaning back in her seat, Brooke elaborated. “They are labels for merchandise.” Her cold eyes dug into mine. “In my line of the profession; numbers label people. The people we acquire and sell have no names - no identity - all they get is numbers.”

“So Sweetheart’s like you - a trafficker.” But then why is my number in both hers and his journals? And what of the others? “There’s a lot of numbers…” in just one book!

“Silly sister.” Brooke shook her head. “The numbers also help the seller and buyer know which person is to be shipped and receive: like inventory. Dr. Sweetheart is not a seller: he was my customer and your buyer.”

My stomach plummeted. Dr. Sweetheart was my buyer? He was the one my sister was going to ship me to. I feel sick.

“He was in the market for a redhead; female; strong build and an even stronger will to live. Of course, hearing this, you popped into my mind and so we struck a deal. However, you know that changed when my plans went south and Phil ended up saving your life instead. Now, you’re untouchable; too much in the light for him to grab.”

“What does he do with the females he buys?” Those two people are sick! Neither one has the right to be called humans - they are monsters in the flesh.

“Don’t know.” She rested her head in her hands. She was enjoying this too much - it gave her a sadistic pleasure to disregard another person’s life. Knowing just how sick she was, made it hard for me to want to stay in the room with her. “The women shipped to the Dr. never get seen again and as for the children -”

“Children!?” I interrupted her. “You two abducted children!?”

She chuckled. “Not me, silly. I don’t cross that line, but a fellow colleague did. You see, Dr. Sweetheart went to me for women and he went to a mutual colleague for children. I don’t know what happens to either merchandise but from the news, I think the two men are upping their game.”

I’m so grateful every conversation is recorded in this joint! What's more, I find out that Dr. Sweetheart could be behind the abductions of the children and their deaths. Closing the journal, I slipped it into my bag and retrieved a pen and paper from it. “I need names, Brooke.”

“Not a problem.” She took the pen and paper, pausing again to gaze at my engagement ring. Gently, she rubbed it. “Basil always had such elegant taste. When we were together, he used to buy me everything I wanted. Even if I wanted nothing, he would still bring me the world.”

“This isn’t about Basil.”

“Of course.” She let go and began writing. Unfortunately, she could multitask and kept talking. “It’s about you and me; when I took you, my end goal wasn’t to ship you off. Shipping you off would have been such a short-term achievement. No, despite being caught and sentenced to life, I still achieved what I wanted.”

Once she finished writing, I snatched the paper away. “I’m not listening to this, Brooke.” I refuse to play her game. “You lost and I’m still standing.”

“You’re limping.” I blinked as she laughed. “Just because you got to keep everything, doesn’t mean you were victorious. You lost the two things you longed for most: an identity of your own and Basil.”

“You’re wrong.” I grabbed my stuff and headed for the entrance.

“Tell me, have you and Basil done it yet? He and I had done it multiple times; everywhere in that castle of his. Let me tell you, Basil isn’t bad in bed and the way he called out my name - makes a girl long for more. I wonder, when you two marry and get to that part - tell me if it’s my name that passes through his lips. Won’t you let me know, dear sister?”

I ignored her taunts and left the way I came. I couldn’t help the boiling in my blood or how heavy my breathing had become. Driving home felt like a nightmare and I berated myself for allowing my psycho sister into my head. That sensation of being robbed returned and it pressed itself like a knife that just dug deeper and deeper into my chest. “Darn it!”

(To put some context for this scene: Brooke is Abijah's twin sister and there is actually a book I am writing that explains their story. It's another series I've been working on but still need to tweak. Anyways, tell me what you think:)

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