A Sister's Burden

[Brooklyn Fisher]

Yes, Brooke was laying on the couch.  No, the couch didn't happen to be hers.  The sun was still up when Brooke had decided to take up residence on the couch and there she had remained with nothing but a bottle of gin to keep her company.  Or maybe it was two bottles.  At this point, Brooke didn't remember.  There had been a burden weighing her down since she'd met Bell Connelly that she couldn't shake.  Normally Brooke didn't flinch in the face of things such as guilt, humility or class.  What made this so different?  Hell if Brooke knew.  She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that increased every time she laid eyes on the cheery redheaded teacher.  It was a one sided affair but Brooke simply had to clear the air.

And, yes.  Brooke was also incredibly drunk.

The dark haired woman let out a low squeaking noise as the door to the apartment opened and she rolled around a bit on the couch.  "Bell, Bell, Bell, Bell.  Hey Bell.  Bell."  Her voice cut through the darkness of the living room even though she couldn't see who was stepping into the apartment.  Her words were slurred and she cringed, bringing an arm up to drape across her face as light flooded the living room.  "Gah!"  She let out a sound of equal parts surprise and sudden agony before slipping off the couch and crumpling to the floor in a heap of dark hair and wrinkled cocktail dress.  

[Bell Connelly]

It’s really odd that Bell has grown used to this as some kind of bizarre routine that was now an everyday occurrence, it didn’t matter how Bell really prepared for it, nor how she much she told her next door neighbor that she really did prefer that she simply knock or ring ahead or tell her she intends to swing by and give Bell a passing visit…..

...but instead, she chooses to break in

Bell thought if she wanted to she could have a pretty open and shut “Breaking an entry” case against Brooke, but then again, she really didn’t have the heart to do something like that because….Well, Brook didn’t exactly seem dangerous or intended to hurt Bell in any way, she just seemed ….Overly enthusiastic about spending time with Bell, she really couldn’t punish Brooke for that could she?

So when Bell opened the door, she couldn’t help but gasp a little at the scent of bitter booze hit her nostrils she pressed her hand against her nose trying to block out the terrible smell as she quickly focused on Brooke on the ground looking more or less like a child, Bell could only sigh and shake her head as she approached her “friend” Come on, you, I think it’s time you went home….”

[Brooklyn Fisher]

Buried deep within the hazy, drunken fog of Brooke's mind resided a clearly defined reason why she was in this state and currently laying on the floor of Bell's living room. It had been with a heavy heart that Brooke had used the spare key Bell never gave her to gain access to Bell's home when she was gone and the drinking had started immediately thereafter. More specifically, the excessive part of the drinking began as soon as Brooke stepped into Bell's apartment. She'd been deep in the bottle well before gaining the courage to approach the redheaded teacher's door.

"No, no, no." Brooke insisted, an arm coming up to wave about. She attempted to push herself up, slipped, fell back down then tried again. With some effort she managed to get up to a sitting position, her back leaning against the couch. Her head tilted backward to peer up at Bell and her shoulders visibly slumped. The usually immaculate Brooke Fisher was sitting here in a wrinkled cocktail dress, her hair mussed and falling into her face, looking absolutely a mess. "You're really pretty, you know that?" She said, her words slurred even though she spoke with a sense of suddenly overwhelming awe. "Why don't you know how pretty you are?"