Brooke

 

This wasn’t the man I saw on the internet. His hair was longer and messy. It looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. The sexy stubble on his face had grown into a bushy beard covering his chiseled cheekbones and his strong masculine jaw. He looked like a homeless man that hadn’t bathed in months and the brightness of his brown eyes that his picture displayed was gone, leaving darkness and rage in its place. Logan Jackson was self-destructing and I knew damn well he was trying to end his life.

He scowled as he opened his fist and dropped the pills into my hand.

“You want the fucking pills, take them. Just get the hell out of here and leave me alone.” He looked away.

“Which bedroom should I take?” I asked.

“Take any one you want. I don’t give a fuck. My brother is wasting your time and his money. There is nothing you can do to help me.”

I looked down at the remote that sat on the floor. Walking over, I picked it up and handed it to him.

“Did you throw this?”

“Yeah. I threw it.”

“Why?”

“What are you? Some shrink or something?” He looked at me.

“No. I’m not a shrink. But I would like to know why you threw the remote to your TV across the room when you knew damn well you wouldn’t get up and get it.”

“I threw it because I was pissed off.”

“Pissed off at what?”

“My team lost the game. They lost because I wasn’t there to help them win it.”

“Okay.” I nodded my head. “I’ll be out there if you need anything.”

“I don’t need nothing from you, lady.” His eyes burned into mine.

“If you say so, but I’ll be out there making myself comfortable in your home.” I smiled as I walked out the door with the pills in my hand. Suddenly, I felt something hit my back. I turned around and saw the pill bottle lying on the floor. “You can throw whatever you want at me, but you cannot hurt me.”

I walked into the living room of the apartment and looked around. The walls were painted in a taupe color with dark wood flooring. Area rugs in a dark gray sat under the cream-colored couch that was displayed in front of the dark wood-trimmed picture window. A beautiful wood encased gas fireplace sat across from the couch with an eighty-inch large-screen TV that hung on the wall above it. The rectangular glass table that sat in front of the couch displayed hardcover books about hockey and it looked like it hadn’t been dusted in months. Walking into the kitchen, I took note of the light oak cabinets with the dirty black concrete countertops that were in desperate need of polishing. A round table that seated six sat on the opposite side in front of a large window, which captured the view of the Hudson River. I decided to take the first bedroom on the left. It was bigger than the other two guestrooms. I had my work cut out for me because I could tell that Logan Jackson was definitely going to be a challenge.

After scrubbing down the kitchen and putting things in their proper place, I heard Logan yell out to me.

“Hey. What the hell are you doing? What’s all that noise?”

“Cleaning up this mess in the kitchen. It looks like a grenade went off in here.”

“Nobody asked you to fucking clean. By the way, I need a pain pill. It’s time and I want to go to sleep.”

“If you want a pain pill, then you’re going to have to ask nicely for it.”

“Jesus Christ. Just bring me my fucking pill!” he yelled.

“No. You can either ask nicely or you can get your lazy ass out of bed and get it yourself.”

He mumbled something, but I couldn’t understand what he said.

“Can you please bring me a pain pill and some water?”

I smiled as I took a pill from the bottle and poured him a glass of water. Walking into his bedroom, I handed both to him.

“Was that so bad to ask nicely?”

“I’m warning you, Brooke.” He scowled as he shoved the pill in his mouth and chased it down with water.

“Well, at least you’re not calling me ‘lady’ anymore. That’s a start.”

He lay there, shaking his head with an angry look on his face. I’d give him three days. Three days to start helping himself, and if he didn’t, he was in for a rude awakening.

After I took a shower and changed into my nightshirt, my phone rang. It was Brandon.

“Hello.”

“How are things going?”

“Things are going just fine. He’s reacting and lashing out like I expected he would. Listen, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need you, Owen, and the rest of your family to stay away from Logan for a while. Do not call him, answer his calls, or come visit him.”

“Why?” he asked with concern.

“Do you know the story of Helen Keller and her teacher Anne Sullivan?”

“Umm. Just bits and pieces.”

“Watch the movie tonight and you’ll understand why I asked you and your family to keep away from him for a while.”

“That’s ridiculous, Brooke.”

“Just do it, Brandon. You’re paying me to help your brother and that’s what I’m trying to do. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The next morning, I climbed out of bed and went to check on Logan. He was still asleep. Making my way to the kitchen, I made a pot of coffee and took down a mug from the cabinet. Hearing a moan come from his room, I went back to check on him.

“Good morning.” I smiled as I leaned up against the doorway with my arms crossed.

“I need a pill.”

“No you don’t.”

“What do you mean ‘No you don’t’? I said I need a fucking pill. I’m in serious pain.”

“Starting today, you won’t be needing your pills anymore. I’m starting you on something that will help you just as effectively without the dependency factor.”

He laughed. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes I can. You will also be drinking tea. No coffee. Caffeine is bad for healing purposes.”

“Are you on fucking drugs or something?” he asked with an irate tone. “If you think I’m taking and drinking your shit, you’re crazy.”

I shrugged. “Suit yourself. If you want to stay in pain, then so be it. But I will tell you this, by now, the pain is tolerable. You’ve grown to depend on your pain medication. Your brain is telling you that you’re in severe pain when you’re actually not. You have enough trauma in your life to deal with right now and adding a drug dependency on top of it isn’t cool.”

“Are you for fucking real?” He glared at me.

“I am.” I took the bottle and dumped all the pills into the toilet. As I flushed them down, I heard him yell “no” and a thump on the floor.

“You fucking bitch! I swear to God I’m going to kill you.”

Walking back into the bedroom, I saw him lying on the floor with a look of hatred and rage in his eyes as he stared at me.

“When was the last time your sheets were washed?” I asked as I stood at a distance.

“Fuck you!”

“You wish. Now answer my question.”

“Fuck you!” He flipped me off.

I shrugged. “Fine. You can stay on the floor.” I walked out of his room and into the kitchen, where I poured myself a cup of coffee.