Page 6 of Tortured Whispers
Being back in LA meant I got to catch up with old friends and colleagues. It also meant I got to spend valuable time with my big brother, Anthony and his daughter Brooklyn while setting things in motion for my new house to be finished.
Only…I’d been back in LA for four days, staying at Ant’s house and I hadn’t seen my niece at all. Well, I take that back. I did see a flash of her black hoodie as she hurried out of the door for school one morning.
“Ant, I love being back home but um…mind telling me when I’m going to see my niece? Is she shy?” I chuckled, cracking open two beers. One for him and one for me. My brother’s expression turned distant and he stared down the hall toward Brooklyn’s room.
“Brooklyn is…different,” he began, tipping his head from one side to the other like he was weighing the very essence of his daughter.
“Different how?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“She has anxiety pretty bad. I never told you because I didn’t want you shrinking my kid, Cease.” He watched my face for a reaction. He still thought I was a hothead like when we were younger. I can’t lie and say hearing my niece had bad anxiety didn’t fuck with me though.
I sucked in a measured breath and shut my eyes for a moment. One of my biggest pet peeves was watching parents let their kid suffer because they didn’t believe in therapy. That was my big brother. When he found out I was majoring in child psychology, he scoffed at me and told me I should be practical like him and take up a trade.
Anthony was an electrician and he made decent money but I wouldn’t trade psychology for the world. It fulfilled me. I got to help kids who couldn’t articulate and speak up for themselves. Kids like Brooklyn.
“Ant, it’s not about shrinking your kid or what you agree with. Your opinion isn’t fact. What is a fact though, is kids do much better in life when they have an objective party to talk to on a regular basis.
I gave you the name of a brilliant psychologist to take Brooklyn to after Andrea died. I’m guessing you never followed through,” I said, leaning back in my chair. My head throbbed with frustration.
“I didn’t. Brooklyn just needs to learn how to get out of her head, Cease. She’s in her head and nobody can reach her. She’s a normal girl besides that,” he reasoned.
“Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself, bro?”
“Don’t try to get in my mind. Give Brooklyn some time to come out of her shell. I told her she could hide out in her room until she got used to the idea of you being here.” I nodded my head at him and then let my thoughts travel to Brooklyn. My chest ached thinking about how long she’d gone without help.
People like Ant who brushed off anxiety irked me. It wasn’t a matter of just switching your thoughts. Anxiety was your way of thinking. It was like a second skin. Something you couldn’t take off even if you wanted to.
I opened my mouth to say something to my brother but the front door swung open and warm September air rushed in. I stood up and went into the hallway to get another glimpse of the elusive Brooklyn Powers.
She was tall and slender. She looked like a supermodel hiding under a hoodie three sizes too big. Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail with countless wisps falling around her face, framing her big hazel eyes. Green flecks danced in her hazel pools as she swallowed and took a step to the side.
“Hi, Brooklyn. Long time no see,” I smiled at her, trying to speak as calmly as possible. The poor thing looked like she’d scream if she saw her own shadow. She lifted the heel of her hand to her lips and nibbled on the bottom of her sleeve, her pretty eyes shifting from me to her father.
“Say hi to your uncle, Brooklyn,” Anthony sighed, standing beside me. He was the big brother but I shot over his head. I shot over everyone’s head at six-foot-seven though.
“H-Hi, Uncle Ceas-aw.” Her dark brows furled together like she was kicking herself for pronouncing my name wrong. My chest ached again and I took a small step toward her. She brought her shoulders up around her ears a little like she was trying to protect herself. Her body language spoke volumes.
She didn’t like new people. She thought I was invading her space. “Hey, can I shake your hand?” I asked in a quiet voice. I noticed her voice was quiet and barely above a whisper so I mirrored her.
“N-N-No. I don’t shake hands.” She clutched her book bag and headed toward her room.
“That’s what I’m talking about. See? She gets in her head and shuts down,” Anthony grumbled and went back to the kitchen but I stood planted to my spot, staring as Brooklyn closed her bedroom door.
My bleeding heart was going nuts in my chest. I had to help her. She was family and there were rules against treating her but I could get her to open up at least. I could be her friend.
“She needs to talk to someone. Does she have friends?” I asked Anthony.
“No. She’s a loner.” I wanted to punch my brother for letting his kid go unchecked for so long.
“Then she’s not expressing herself. Does she have a journal? Anything she does to release? It can be stifling when you feel alone,” I said.
“No,” Ant grunted and stood up. He started slamming things around, getting ready for dinner and I knew I’d touched a nerve. I just didn’t know what it was.
“Ant, what are you thinking about, man? Talk to me.”
“Nothing. I’m making dinner. You wanna analyze that too, Cease?”
“I want to help,” I said, pleading with my words.
