Murdered at 17

by Christine Conradt

  “Brooke!” The door flew open in her room and Alex came rushing in, knocking the breath out of her as he tackled her onto the bed.

  “Oh my god, Brooke,” she could hear her mother gasp even though she couldn’t move. Alex’s body was heavy on top of her. Brooke twisted and struggled to turn around and push him off of her, clawing at the bedsheets with her nails.

  “Stop it!” she heard Alex yell, and a moment later, her wrists were pinned together with his hand. She tried to pull away but his grip was strong.

  “Get off of me!” she screamed so loud she thought she’d torn her vocal cords. “I want to die! Get off me!”

  “Calm down, Brooke,” Alex said, his mouth only inches from her ear. His voice was steady and forceful.

  “Nooooooo!” Adrenaline pumped through Brooke as she writhed under him, trying to bring her feet up high enough to kick him.

  “Brooke, Brooke, Brooke,” he said in a soothing voice. “Breathe. I need you to breathe.”

  The rage wanted out. She had to let it out. Brooke let go of a final, bloodcurdling scream and felt her body go limp with exhaustion. The anger turned to sorrow and the sobbing took over. Her legs and arms felt heavy and she cried into the crumpled bedding beneath her.

  She could still feel the weight of Alex on top of her. “Shhh, just cry,” he cooed. “Cry.” Hearing that she had permission to break down completely, Brooke bawled harder, choking out sobs for everything she’d lost—her best friend, her new boyfriend, her perfect uninjured brain, and, most of all, her innocence. They all came rolling out of her in the way of tears and breath, and she felt them all go away.

  Alex released her but Brooke didn’t move. Gripping at her blanket, she felt it soak up the wetness of her spit and tears. Finally, the sobs began to slow down and the anguish was gone, replaced by exhaustion.

  She could tell Alex and her mom were still in the room, sitting beside her. She could feel them there. Her mother touched her back.

  “Brooke,” she heard her whisper, but Brooke still couldn’t bring herself to move. She wanted to stay in the darkness, with her eyes closed, and hold on to that empty sensation.

  “I’m going to go talk to the installer,” she heard Alex say and felt the bed spring up as he stood. His footsteps told her he’d left the room.

  “Brooke, honey.” Her mother’s voice was meek, broken. Brooke turned over and looked up at her mom. She could tell from her mother’s red nose and streaked makeup that she had been crying too.

  “I’m so sick of disappointing people,” Brooke said. She meant her mother and herself, but “people” seemed like the right word. “I don’t understand how I even got to this point.”

  “You haven’t disappointed me,” her mother said, bringing a hand to her chest. “It hurts me so much to see you go through this. To see you in this much pain. I just wish I could take it away.” Her mother quickly wiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek.

  “I don’t think it’s ever going to go away. Maddie’s never coming back. I’ll never go back to how I was before my fall.” Brooke turned onto her side, bringing her knees up.

  “Things change every day. People are born. People die. Things happen that make us change. Even if you hadn’t had the accident, you wouldn’t be the same today as you were a year ago. It just isn’t possible.”

  “How did it go from so good to so bad, though?”

  “I know it seems bad, and I know it’s hard to believe this, but it will all get better. That sounds trite, especially when everything seems so bleak. But it’s true. I remember when your father left, here I was with this little fourteen-month-old baby. I didn’t have a job, I’d lost my mother two years earlier, so I had no support. I thought, ‘Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?’ He drained our bank accounts. I couldn’t even go to the store to buy you diapers.” Brooke sat up. She’d never heard her mother talk about her father, at least not in detail like this.

  “He left you with no money at all?”

  “Nothing. And he didn’t tell me he was doing it. All I had was a credit card. So I went to the store and I filled up the cart with as much baby food and cheap bread and ramen noodles as I could. When I got to the checkout, I handed the girl my card and it didn’t go through. He’d maxed it out. I broke down right there. Started crying. I made her run it three times, and after the third, she refused to try it again. But I knew on the first one when it didn’t go through what he’d done. I knew it.” Brooke reached out and took her mother’s hand, her heart swelling inside of her.

  “What did you do?” Brooke asked.

  “The young kid that was bagging started to take the groceries back out of the bag. All the stuff I needed for you. I was going to have to walk out and leave it there. And I knew you needed that baby food so bad. I knew you were going to be hungry soon. . . .”

  Brooke saw more tears form in her mother’s eyes. Watching her relive the pain was almost unbearable.

  “So I picked you up out of the cart and started to walk out. I didn’t want to look around because I knew everyone was staring at me. I was so embarrassed and I knew they thought I had to be a terrible mother. And right before I got to the door, I heard the cashier call out, ‘Ma’am?’ I turned around and she motioned me to come back. When I walked over there, an older woman, about fifty maybe, with really thick glasses was standing in front of her. ‘This lady just paid for your groceries,’ the cashier said. I lost it completely then. I was crying so hard I could barely say thank you to the woman. I remember she put her hand on mine and it was cold. Her hand was cold. I told her thank you again and again, maybe seven or eight times while the guy bagged them all back up. The lady just smiled and said, ‘You’re welcome, honey.’ That was all she said. And I had enough to get by.” Brooke could imagine her mother, fifteen years younger with the same sad brown eyes she had now, watching the credit card come back denied. The hollow feeling went away and Brooke felt an ache form deep in her chest.

  “Who was that lady?”

  “I never saw her again. Just some really kind, generous woman who must’ve felt sorry for me. I’ll always remember what she looked like, though. It was one of the most difficult days of my life and some stranger in a grocery store cared more about me than my husband did. Cared more about my daughter.” Brooke’s mother twisted the edge of the bedsheet between her fingers.

  “I couldn’t understand it,” her mom continued. “What had I done to deserve someone who would not just walk out on me like that, but steal everything I had? I hadn’t cheated on him or treated him mean in any way. I didn’t even see it coming. And that made me feel so stupid, I started to question everything else about myself.

  “If I was that dumb to get taken by this guy, how was I ever going to be capable enough to raise a kid on my own?” her mother asked. Brooke could tell her mother had been transported back to that place where she didn’t know what to do. It was in her eyes. “Or get a job? On top of all of that, I loved him. I really, truly loved your father. I felt like I’d lost my best friend. And it wasn’t as if he died. When people die, they don’t always get to say goodbye but at least you understand that they couldn’t. This was almost worse in a weird way. He chose to leave. He chose to tell me he loved me that morning and then be gone when I got home that afternoon.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  Her mother forced a smile. “The only reason I’m telling you all this is because I want you to know that I’ve been in a place where I had nothing to hold on to. Everything that was good was in the past and I felt like I had no control over all the bad things that were happening in the present. One after another, the hits just kept coming until I felt so beat down.” Her mother paused. Then, “Except you, of course. You were always a good thing.” Brooke couldn’t help but smile.

  “The world and everything in it is constantly moving, always changing,” her mom said slowly. “Nothing ever stays the same—good or bad. You just have to enjoy the
good times and be strong through the difficult ones knowing that more good is on the way, and there will be bad again too. You will get past this. As hard as it is in this moment, you’ll keep moving forward. You’ll figure it out.”

  Brooke threw her arms around her mother and buried her face in her hair.

  “I love you, Mom,” she whispered, meaning it more than she had ever before.

  “I love you too.” They hugged for a long time, neither wanting it to end. When they finally separated, Brooke saw Alex standing in the doorway. He smiled. Brooke wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching them, but it must’ve been long enough.

  “We need to talk about school,” he said carefully.

  “What do you mean?” Brooke asked.

  “Jake did make his way onto campus once already. I’m worried that he’ll do it again. Especially if he can’t get to you here.”

  “Are you saying I shouldn’t go back?” Brooke asked, shifting her thoughts from her mother back to Jake.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Alex said.

  “What do you think?” Brooke looked at her mother, anxious for an answer.

  “I think Alex is right. For all we know, he could show up with a gun or something. It might be better for you to continue studying from home.”

  “From home? But how am I going to do that? I have to go to the classes and take tests and stuff. I have to go to cheer practice.” Brooke tried not to panic at the idea of being locked in the house all day just to stay safe from Jake, but she felt she might as well be in prison if that’s what she was going to have to do. “I want to be with my friends, with Maddie’s friends. We need to all be together right now.” She’d only received one text since they’d all learned about the murder. It had come from Keisha as they were walking into the police station.

  Keisha: Hey. Are you ok? I feel like I’m in a bad dream.

  Brooke: Me too. How are you holding up?

  Keisha: Total shock. I’ve been crying nonstop.

  Brooke had turned off her phone, not knowing what else to say. Anything she would’ve written back would’ve made her feel like a fraud. Brooke surmised everyone was at home, trying to make sense of Maddie’s murder either alone or with their parents. On Monday, they’d come together, the entire school, to remember Maddie and attempt to heal. Brooke knew she didn’t deserve to be a part of that, but she desperately wanted to be.

  “How do you think Jake is going to react when the police show up at his door and start asking him questions?” Alex asked. Brooke couldn’t deny that Alex had a point. She was sure Jake wouldn’t take it well and if he believed she’d turned on him, he’d be furious.

  “We need to do whatever we can to keep you safe, and away from Jake, until the police can finish their investigation,” her mother added. Brooke knew she was right. They were both right. Jake, if he’d done what she suspected, was capable of maiming and even killing. “It’s only for a short time,” her mom said. “I really do think it’s for the best.”

  If it wasn’t enough that he’d possibly taken Maddie away, now he was taking her freedom, too. Brooke was reluctant but gave a nod. Until Maddie’s murder was solved, she’d be a prisoner in her own home.

  Twenty-Four

  Remembering the Dead

  The ground was cold under Brooke’s bare feet as she sat under an oak tree, knees pressed up against her chest. She dug her thumbnail past the matted blades of dead grass, into the dirt as she looked around her backyard. This is where Maddie is going to be, she thought. In this cold ground. In the dark. In a wooden box. Brooke had never given much thought to death before. She’d never known anyone who died until now. But it wasn’t just the loss of her best friend, the absence that was eating at her. It was the idea that Maddie’s body no longer contained Maddie. It was just a stiff, pale shell that had already started to decompose.

  Goose bumps sprouted up on Brooke’s arms. Good, she thought. Be cold. Be uncomfortable. Maddie’s corpse is probably stuffed away in some refrigerated drawer at the morgue or police station or somewhere. Be uncomfortable for Maddie.

  The sound of a screen door squeaking open, then shut, followed by the laughter of children prompted Brooke to twist around and peek through the spaces between the fence separating her mom’s yard from her neighbor’s. Sidney and Seth were outside in their jackets, running around with their dog. The dog let out a playful bark that was followed by more laughter.

  Life sucks, kiddos, she silently warned them. Enjoy it now because, someday, that dog you love is going to be gone. And your parents are going to be gone. And even one of you will die before the other, and you’ll be left all alone.

  She heard a text come in on her phone and straightened her leg to pull it from her pocket. Keisha.

  Keisha: We want to dedicate a routine to Maddie at next week’s game and do a moment of silence. Riley’s in. Do you want to help choreograph? We also want to project pictures of her on a screen.

  Brooke read the text again. It was thoughtful and sweet. Very much Keisha. This is what people do when their friends are killed and they’re not wondering if they’re responsible, she thought. This is what normal people do.

  She pictured the squad kneeling on the wet grass of the football field under the blinding stadium lights counting down the minute of silence while Maddie’s smiling face glowed on the screen behind them. She imagined that they would leave her pom-poms lying on the sidelines where she typically sat.

  Then the music would start, loud and tinny through the speakers. One of Maddie’s favorite songs. They’d all spring up and start their routine while the crowd of teenagers and their parents watched, consumed with how tragic it was that someone so young would be killed in such a ruthless, violent way. And how grateful they were that it didn’t happen to their own kid.

  Then the screen would turn back into a scoreboard and the players would take the field and the game would continue. And everyone’s life would continue, except for Maddie’s.

  She deserved so much more than a minute of silence and a stupid dance routine, Brooke thought as she casually picked up a handful of dead leaves and crushed them in her palm. She deserved to graduate from high school and go to college and get married and have babies and a career. She deserved to have spring breaks and Halloweens and prom. Brooke made a fist and punched hard at the ground. These thoughts made her feel so angry and hopeless. Like nothing mattered anymore.

  Keisha: Just an idea. We could do something else if you want.

  Brooke threw her head back and sighed. If she didn’t give Keisha some type of response, she’d just keep texting.

  Brooke: I think it’s a great idea. We should do it.

  She set the phone down and looked back through the slot between fence pickets at the blur of red windbreakers on tiny bodies. She felt the wind pick up and her hair whipped wildly around her face. She needed to figure out how to process Maddie’s death. It was hard when all she wanted to do was punish herself for it. If I don’t figure this out, I’m in real trouble, she thought. I need to know if I’m responsible for her death. I need to understand why it happened and how to move on. If I don’t, I might as well join Maddie. Because there’s no way in hell I can live like this.

  Twenty-Five

  Jake Reaches Out

  Brooke opened her eyes to see sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. No alarm clock. What day is it? she wondered. Sunday. No school. Not that it matters anyway, she reminded herself, because I’m not allowed to go back.

  Brooke pulled her covers around her shoulders and tried to remember what had woken her up. The faint and foggy memory of her dream still inhabited space in her head like a photograph taken through wet glass. She’d died in the dream. Taken her own life. She couldn’t remember how, but there was one image that came through clearly, her body lying in a field and she was floating over it, high over it like a drone. When she stared down at herself, she didn’t look dead. She wasn’t bloody or maimed, but she knew she was no longer ali
ve.

  Brooke pulled her covers up higher, feeling the warmth trapped under the blankets. She was looking for Maddie in the dream, she suddenly remembered. She was dead too and she’d been trying to find her. She couldn’t though and that made dream-Brooke panic, panic that she’d committed suicide for nothing. She tried to remember more, but the more lucid she became, the more the abstract images dissipated.

  As she threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, her cell phone rang. It was Jake. Brooke stared down at his name on the display, hesitating. Should she answer? Both her mother and Ossa had instructed her to cut off all communication with him. But they didn’t understand how persistent he could be. If she didn’t talk to him, she was pretty sure he’d come over and demand to know why. Deciding it was better to pacify him, she touched the button connecting them.

  “Hello?” she said. Her voice was still groggy from sleep, so she cleared her throat.

  “Good morning, beautiful. Did I wake you up?” The words were nice, casual, but she could hear the intensity in his voice, as if he were getting through the small talk so he could get to what he really wanted to say.

  “No, I was up. I just got up.” Brooke tried to act and sound as normal as possible. “I’m glad you called,” she added.

  “A cop came to my condo asking me questions about you.” Brooke’s heart fluttered. Was that true? Had the detectives not believed her and gone to Jake trying to find more evidence against her?

  “Like what?” she asked, genuinely wanting to know.

  “I don’t want to talk about this on the phone. Can you come over?” The pounding in Brooke’s chest stopped. He wanted to be alone with her.

  “I can’t, at least not today.” Her mind raced to come up with an excuse. It was so easy to lie to her mom and the teachers at school. Why was it so hard to come up with something now? “My mom asked me to stay here. I think she’s going to help Maddie’s mom plan some stuff for her funeral.” That sounded at least semi-plausible. There was a pause on the other end. Only for a few seconds but it felt much longer.