Chapter 20 The Notebook
Daylan's POV
I got up next to Brie. She was sound asleep. The sun was already rising, but I needed to get to work. I don't even want to leave her here alone, and I have lots to do at the hospital. As I watched her a little while longer, the more I appreciated having her, but there was one thing that she wanted me to do...that was to think about having a family with her.
With that thought, I stood up after holding her close to me for the entire evening. I walked softly to put on my clothes as I had slept in my boxer briefs. Thereafter, I went to the kitchen to make myself some coffee.
Once I made my coffee, I went to the lounge and sat on the sofa. I had a lot to think about. Do I want kids? I placed my coffee that was hot on the coffee table, I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees. What the hell am I going to do if I don't want kids? She wouldn't want to be with me and I don't want to be forced into something I don't want.
That is when my eyes found her notebook where her story was written. I reached out and took the notebook from the coffee table where I left it yesterday. I opened it to the first page.
Today was the day I couldn’t take it anymore. I packed my small backpack, grabbed my notebook, and ran out into the rain, letting the drops mix with my tears. The rain felt almost cleansing, as if it was washing away the fear and anger that had been building up inside of me for years.
I remember every word he said. My stepfather's voice still echoes in my head, his insults piercing through my thoughts like shards of glass. “You’re worthless, Brielle,” he spat at me earlier today. “You will never amount to anything.” I have heard those words a million times before, but today, they broke something inside me.
Mom promised she would come back for me. She promised. I remember the look in her eyes when she said it, the desperate plea for me to believe her. That night, he had hit her again, harder than ever before. She left without a word, just like she said she would, but the worst part is she didn’t take me with her. “I will come back for you,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face as she slipped out the door. She left me waiting and hoping, but she never came back.
The rain is cold, soaking through my clothes, but I don’t care. It’s almost a relief to feel something other than the numbness I have grown used to. I ran through the streets, past the places I used to go with Mom before everything fell apart. I don’t know where I’m going, just away from him, away from the house that holds too many painful memories.
I found a small park with a gazebo, and I’m sitting here now, writing this. I feel a strange mix of freedom and fear. What will I do? Where will I go? I don’t have the answers, but for the first time in years, I feel like I have a choice.
The rain is letting up a bit, but I can still hear the soft patter on the roof of the gazebo. It’s almost comforting in a way, like the world is crying with me. I hope Mom is out there somewhere, safe and free from his abuse. I hope she thinks of me and regrets leaving me behind.
I need to be strong. I need to keep moving. I will find a way to survive. I will prove to him, and to myself, that I’m not worthless. I don’t know how yet, but I will. I have to.
The rain has finally stopped, leaving the air feeling fresh and the world around me quieter. I can hear the distant sound of cars and the occasional bark of a dog, but here, under this gazebo, it’s just me and my thoughts. It’s strange, how in the midst of chaos, moments of calm can feel almost surreal.
I’m trying to remember the last time I felt truly happy. It was probably before Mom met him. We used to have movie nights, just the two of us, snuggled up on the couch with popcorn. She had always let me pick the movie, even if it meant watching the same animated film for the hundredth time. Those nights felt safe, wrapped in a bubble of love and laughter. But then he came into our lives, and that bubble burst.
I still remember the first time he yelled at me. I was twelve, and I had accidentally knocked over a vase in the lounge. It shattered on the floor, and before I could even apologize, he was in my face, his voice booming, calling me clumsy and stupid. Mom tried to intervene, but he pushed her away, telling her to stay out of it. That was the beginning of the end.
Mom changed after that. She became quieter, more withdrawn. I could see the fear in her eyes every time he raised his voice. She tried to shield me, to take the brunt of his anger, but it was never enough. He found reasons to criticize me, to belittle me, to make me feel small. And I believed him. Every word, every insult, chipped away at my self-worth until there was almost nothing left.
When Mom finally decided to leave, I thought it was our chance. She told me to pack a bag, that we would leave while he was at work. But something went wrong. He came home early that day. I remember hiding in my room, clutching my backpack, waiting for her to come get me. But she never did. Instead, I heard shouting, the sound of things breaking, and then silence. When I finally came out, she was in their bedroom, on the bed, just crying, and he was sitting on the couch in the lounge, a triumphant smirk on his face.
After she had left, I held onto her promise. I told myself she would come back for me, that she was just waiting for the right moment. But deep down, I knew she wasn’t coming back. She couldn’t. Maybe she was too scared, or maybe she thought I was safer where I was. I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t wait anymore. What if something happened to her?
I’m starting to feel the chill. I need to find somewhere to stay for the night. I don’t have much money, but there is a shelter a few blocks away. I remember seeing it when Mom and I used to walk around being carefree. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than going back.
I’m scared. I won’t lie about that. But I’m also determined. I have lived through his hell for too long to give up now. I have to keep moving forward, even if the path is uncertain. I have to believe that there is something better out there for me, that I can create a new life, a new future.
I’m going to pack up my things and head to the shelter. Maybe tomorrow I will figure out my next steps. Maybe I will find a way to contact Mom, to let her know I’m okay. But for now, I need to take it one day at a time. One step at a time.
As I walked away from the park, I glanced back at the gazebo one last time. It’s strange how a simple structure can feel like a sanctuary, even if just for a few hours. I will carry this moment with me, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there is a glimmer of hope.
Here is to hoping for a brighter tomorrow.
\-Brielle
I closed the book, running my hand over my face, stunned. These were the first two pages in her notebook, and it seems that she had started this back then because those two pages had wet droplet stains on them. I wrapped my head around what I had just read, anger rose inside of me about what that bastard had done, and as for her mother to leave a child behind, that angers me even more. Well, I should speak last about that. I left Rick behind. But I am eager to know more, or what happens next and if this is what she wants to write a book about, then she has me hooked already. I just have to encourage her to allow me to read it, or maybe I can just take it with me and read everything.
As I stood up, no longer interested in the coffee, I took her meds as I placed the notebook on the table, went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and then I took it to her. When I got to the bedroom, her eyes fluttered open, the sun was shining through the window as she blocked it with her hand from shining into her face. I placed the glass of water and her medication on the bedside table.
"Good morning, did you sleep well?" I asked as I sat down beside her as she stretched.
"Yes, and how about you?" She asked.
"I managed to sleep." I gave her a small smile. "I need to go to work. I will check up on you later. Do you mind if I sleep over again tonight?" I asked.
"I don't want to be alone," she said softly.
"Then I will be here. I will grab a few things at my apartment after work and then I will be back. Just take your medication. I don't want to see you at the hospital unless it's an emergency. Call me if you need me," I said as I leaned in and placed a chaste kiss against her forehead before pulling away again.
"What if Tabitha shows up?" she was worried.
"I will make sure to deal with her. In the meantime, don't open the door to anyone unless it's me. You have to focus on your health. You have a check-up appointment with me on Friday, so you will drive with me to the hospital and I want to discuss being your mentor for your book. I think that you should focus on writing that story while you are alone. It will keep your mind off Tabitha," I encouraged.
I still want to know more, but that means I won't be able to take that book with me to read further. Maybe I can get her to open up to me about her past. Does Rick know about this? Does Tabitha know?
"Thank you for being here and for taking care of me," she said.
"Well, that is what I do," I smiled before standing up. "Please get more rest. If Rick comes back, and if he is a problem, let me know. I will deal with him. I will see you later," I smiled, and then I left the bedroom.
When I got to the lounge, I stopped in my tracks as her notebook caught my eye on the coffee table. I really wanted to take it with me. Why the hell did I tell her to write her story further, because now I can't even take the notebook. As much as it is a temptation for me, I left.
I have other things to worry about now. I had patients to see, a research project to work on with Abby, and potentially having to deal with Tabitha. I just hope that she won't do anything to my project. I don't know what she can be capable of now. I don't know her anymore the way I used to when I was married to her back then. Perhaps she could be revengeful or want to kill me. Anything could be possible, but most of all, I don't need Brie to deal with anything stressful at this stage.