Breaking Brooklyn
Scott Leopold
Copyright © 2012 Leopold
Publishing
All rights reserved.
ISBN- 9781310263217
“
These eyes will
deceive you, they will destroy you, they will take from you, your
innocents, your pride, and eventually your soul. These eyes do not
see what you and I see. Behind these eyes, one only finds darkness.
These are the eyes of a killer.
"
PROLOGUE
I walk into an empty house, the sound of my
footsteps uneven. One is clear and hard, the other slightly
muffled. My heart is broken into a million pieces. A rusty gas can
dangles from my hand.
In the living room an old brass lamp spills a
dim light across a pile of toys that have taken over the room. I
move from room to room, slowly pouring gas over everything I see,
each drop bringing back the painful memories of my life. I drench
the couch, its faded roses running together in a puddle. I pour my
hatred over the armchair and its ottoman. I nod in satisfaction as
I move to the television resting on a stand in the corner. Gas
splashes from the worn wood to the floor as a white colored ring
forms on the plastic casing surrounding the TV. My distorted
reflection appears on the dusty screen. Not giving it a second
look, I continue.
Lurching down the hallway, I enter a room on
my right. My eyes automatically fall on the bunk beds that line the
back wall. I am overtaken with humiliation and grief. The pain I
have suppressed for so long starts to make its way up my spine,
determined to corrupt my brain. I slowly walk to the other side of
the room and run my hand over the trophies that sit on the tall
dresser adjacent to the bunk beds.
I think about my family while the fractured
pieces of my heart beat rapidly. I soak the mattresses with gas,
then stumble across the carpet to the door and look back. Anger and
loathing crowd out reason as my mind takes one last snapshot of my
old life.
Moving slowly down the hallway, I see a black
lab with gray hair around her eyes. She cautiously steps toward me,
her movements hesitant and unsettled. She looks up and whimpers,
then walks down the tiny corridor as if she is looking for
help.
I continue to a narrow door. I enter a long,
shotgun-style bathroom lined in dingy-white subway tiles. Like a
shadow, the black lab is at my side. Wild-eyed, she senses what is
about to happen.
A huge window is ajar on the back wall. A
breeze whispers through its opening. Crickets chirp as though this
is like any other night. The hoots of night owls join the chorus
from their nests in the trees outside.
The lab waits as I walk towards the window.
Confused, she follows me, her tags jingling from her collar. Oh how
that sound once brought me great pleasure. I stop to remember the
beautiful family I once had. I then move on.
Exhausted, I slump on the toilet seat and
admire the handgun I have removed from the back of my jeans. I
cannot get the memory of what happened out of my head. The familiar
jingle starts again. My friend comes to my aid. She walks up and
gently licks my hand. She cries, begging for attention.
I slowly reach into my pocket and pull out a
lighter. Hands as steady as a heart surgeon, I flick the cheap Bic
lighter. I watch its delicious flame, hungry for something to
touch. I make it wait. I can see the fire dancing in the reflection
of the dog’s eyes. She howls more loudly, pleading me to
stop.
The flame is starving, begging me to set the
house on fire. I do. With a quick move, I let it begin to
eat.
Fire slowly devours the wall. Out of the
bathroom it works its depraved hunger towards the rest of the
house. It ingests drywall and wood floors in its need to be full. I
watch and smile as the flame follows the path of gasoline like a
hungry demon taking its prey.
I get up and step in front of the mirror. I
look at the reflection in front of me. I hate what I see. My skin
is pale, my wiry hair long and unkempt. My sad eyes stare back at
me. They are both empty and confident at the same time.
Suddenly, in a mad rage, I punch the mirror.
Looking at myself through its broken pieces, I scream, “I HATE
YOU!"
I punch the mirror again and again like a
madman. My hands are dripping with blood. Abruptly, I stop and sit
back down on the toilet. I pick up the pistol. I put its shaft into
my mouth. I can feel its cold metal on my lips as I place my
forefinger on the trigger. I sit frozen in this position, tears
running down my face then onto the barrel of gun. I watch them roll
slowly down to my trigger finger.
I remember my last conversation with Brooke as
my stomach becoming an angry sea of remorse.
TEXT MESSAGES
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 10:47 am
I got the final divorce decree
today.
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 11:47 am
Really, you won't even respond to my
text!
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 11:48 am
How many guys are you fucking now! I hear you
have become quite the slut!
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 11:50 am
What a good example you have become for our
boys! I just hope you don't fuck them up like my mother did
me.
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 11:51 am
I will never let that happen!
Reply
Brooke says:
May 31, 2015 at 11:55 am
Jack you're being extremely rude and immature
right now. I've never had anyone talk to me like this before. Its
disrespectful!
Reply
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 11:57 am
I will not allow my boys to have a whore for a
mother!
Reply
Brooke says:
May 31, 2015 at 10:47 am
Jack, I'm not going to let you talk to me like
this. My attorney has recommended that I file a restraining order
on you. In fact, from here on out if you want to communicate with
me you will need to contact him.
Reply
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 10:47 am
You're probably fucking him too! You used me
Brooke. You hurt me!
You have no idea how much pain you have caused
me! I won't allow you to hurt my boys! I swear if they see the shit
you're doing I will burn your fucking world down!!!!
Reply
Brooke says:
May 31, 2015 at 10:47 am
Do u not realize how emotionally crazy u sound
right now? I'll pray for u Jack.
Reply
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 10:47 am
You need to pray for yourself!
Jack says:
May 31, 2015 at 10:50 am
Be very careful how far you push me Brooke!
Chapter One
“All that we see or seem is but a
dream within a dream.”
~Edgar Allan Poe
Jack – Day 1
Let me explain how I have come to my current
state of mind. This morning I woke abruptly, my hands balled into
fists as I screamed at the gray ceiling tiles. I tried to move the
rest of my body but couldn’t. Confused, I slowly rolled my head,
examining what looked to be a hospital room. Next to the monitor
that was taking my vitals, I caught sight of someone sitting in a
chair. She was reading from a notebook.
“
Who are you?” I asked.
“
My name is Harleen. I was called
in to help you. Can you tell me your name?”
I had to think for a minute before I could
remember. Then it came to me.
“
My name is… Jack.”
“
Jack, do you know where you are
right now?”
“
No, I don’t.”
“
You’re in the hospital,” Harleen
replied.
My mind became a tsunami of clashing memories,
one thrown against another. Brooke crying, then the words “I’m no
longer in love with you.” Inside my head, the pain was trying to
break its way out. I started to retch. Harleen rang for a nurse,
who quickly elevated my bed, which made me feel like I was being
launched into space. She held a plastic pan under my mouth. I
vomited, heaving until there was nothing but bile and
blood.
Picking up the phone, the nurse spoke quietly
to someone on the other end. She then injected a medicine into my
IV before lowering my bed. Wetting a washcloth, Harleen wiped my
face in an effort to soothe me. I was so anxious, jittery, in the
midst of a full-blown panic attack.
That was, until the valium kicked
in.
“
What’s happening to me?” I
asked.
Harleen pulled her chair around so I could see
her face.
“
Jack, do you remember what
happened to you?”
“
What are you talking about?” I
replied.
The flashes of memories began again. This time
more slowly. I am tied to a chair. A strange face appears then
vanishes in into darkness. I hear Brooke scream!
Looking at Harleen, I began to cry like a
desperate man trying to swim to shore, knowing he will never make
it.
“
Where is my family? Where is
Brooke? Why isn’t anyone but you here?”
“
Jack, I am sorry to have to tell
you this, but you had a mental breakdown. When you got to the
hospital and came back to consciousness you were in shock, unable
to communicate, choking on your own vomit. You became extremely
violent. They had to sedate you.”
“
What do you mean? I don’t
remember any of that!”
“
Jack, something happened to you
the night we found you that triggered this. Some things are so
disturbing to us that our brain shuts off our ability to remember.
In clinical terms, it is called Trauma Induced Dissociative
Amnesia,” Harleen explained.
I felt like I’d been sucked into the universe.
The pounding in my head was like asteroids colliding. While gazing
at Harleen, the memories flew at me at the speed of light, one
image of Brooke after another. I couldn't make it stop. At that
moment my world had been consumed by a monster’s gaping maw, a
black hole that chewed on me until I groaned. I was speechless,
staring at the ceiling, not moving. I wanted to make the world spin
back to the day before. The day I could remember.
“
This doesn’t make any sense to
me!” I shouted.
“
Jack, when you got to the
hospital you tried to commit suicide.”
“
What! Why would I do
that?”
“
I don't know, that's what we're
trying to figure out.”
I could feel the blood rush from my face.
Harleen gently put her hand on my shoulder.
“
Jack, it’s going to be alright,
I’m here to help you work through this.”