Chapter 11 #3
When you get some, sprinkle 1/8 teaspoon over her wet food. Mix it in. She shouldn’t be able to tell it’s in there since it’s flavorless.
Camila 8:33 p.m.:
Wow, okay. I’ll get some now. Thank you!
Valeria smiles to herself. She loves this. Loves knowing there are things she can do to help.
“Now,” Brooke says, squinting at her, “what could her cat possibly be going through that would ever have you smiling like that?”
“Nothing. I enjoy being helpful, Brooke.”
Brooke snorts. “I don’t believe you.”
A small pulse jumps in Valeria’s throat. “What? You want to go through my phone?”
“Yes, actually.” Brooke extends her hand, palm up. “I do.”
Valeria laughs, sharp and thin. “You’re not serious. We promised we’d never do that.”
“Well, you’re offering.” Brooke shrugs. “So hand it over.”
“I was being sarcastic.” A knot of unease forms in Valeria’s stomach.
Brooke’s eyes narrow, her jaw tightens, and a wink of annoyance crosses her eyes. “Well, now it looks like you’re hiding something.”
“What?” Valeria huffs, brows lifting in disbelief.
Brooke stands. The floor creaks as she steps closer. Valeria’s fingers curl around the edge of the cushion, nails biting into fabric, her body already on edge as Brooke stands close enough that she can feel the heat of her skin.
“Give me your phone,” she says, her voice low as she hovers over Valeria. “Don’t make me take it off your hands.”
Valeria swallows, but she struggles; her mouth’s gone dry, her tongue thick, and her heart slams so hard against her ribs it hurts.
Brooke makes a grab for the phone, but somehow, Valeria slips it into her pocket beforehand.
“Don’t you dare,” she says, but her voice betrays her, breathy, shaking at the edges. It’s not that there’s anything on her phone she’s afraid of Brooke seeing. It’s that this is an invasion of privacy, a line they promised each other they would never cross, no matter what.
“Wow.” Brooke leans in, bracing a hand on the back of the couch, boxing her in. “There must be something in there you don’t want me to see.” She narrows her eyes.
“Brooke, there’s nothing,” Valeria says, desperate.
For a long second, Brooke watches her, eyes sharp, measuring, like she’s deciding how much force taking Valeria’s phone is going to take.
Panic crawls up Valeria’s spine, hot and dizzy, her thoughts tripping over each other.
Her lungs forget their rhythm, and her chest feels locked, and the panic she felt at the cabin all those months ago is back.
“You’re shaking,” Brooke says quietly.
She hadn’t realized it until Brooke pointed it out.
All at once, the restless energy in her body screams, alongside the urge to walk until it calms down.
Valeria tries to stand, but Brooke shifts instantly, knee knocking into Valeria’s, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to stop her.
The jolt shoots straight up Valeria’s nerves.
“Sit,” Brooke says, the word a command rather than a request.
Something inside Valeria fractures. Heat floods her face, her vision tunneling. She hates that her body is obeying, that fear is taking over.
“Don’t do this,” Valeria says. “Please.” The word tastes wrong. Weak. Brooke’s eyes find hers again, something like satisfaction passing through before it’s gone. A look Valeria hadn’t seen in months. She hates how much Brooke seems to enjoy seeing her small.
Brooke reaches out and grips Valeria’s chin, fingers tight, forcing their eyes to meet. “Then stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.” Valeria’s voice breaks. Her phone feels heavier by the second, a lead weight dragging her down. “You’re turning this into something it isn’t.”
Brooke lets go abruptly, shoving Valeria’s chin away instead of releasing it gently. A low, angry grunt slips out of her as she turns her head like she can’t stand to look at her.
She starts pacing the room in short, sharp steps, hands flexing at her sides, as if all her anger is balled up there.
“I’m not asking again.” Brooke stops in front of Valeria.
She extends her hand quickly, and Valeria flinches so hard she knocks her own hand against the wall, pain blooming bright and sharp. She curls inward instinctively, shoulders hunched, bracing for a grab that doesn’t quite come.
When she looks back toward Brooke, her hand is suspended inches from Valeria’s wrist. For the first time, something like uncertainty cracks her expression.
“Jesus,” Brooke mutters. “What is wrong with you?”
Silence stretches as Valeria’s heart hammers.
Brooke straightens, slowly backing off, and Valeria lets out a slow breath.
“You’re acting like I’m going to hurt you,” she says.
“Are you?” Valeria asks, the words tumbling out before she can think.
The question surprises her. It pulls something loose in her chest and drags up memories she’s spent a long time pressing down.
Flashes of Brooke’s hands, of the bruises that followed, fill her mind.
All accidents, she reminds herself, but her thoughts don’t ease.
Since the cabin, there have been times when Brooke’s anger has left a mark—something she hasn’t told anyone.
She barely thinks about it herself. Usually, she shoves it so far back that she can pretend it never happened.
In moments like these, though, it feels impossible to ignore them, not when it seems Brooke is on the verge.
Brooke’s jaw tightens. Her hands clench, then loosen, but she ignores the question.
“Give me your phone,” she says again, softer this time, which somehow makes it worse and terrifies Valeria to her core. Something inside Valeria hardens. This can’t be my life, she thinks. Living like this, shrinking under someone else’s voice. This fear isn’t okay.
Valeria’s fingers close around it through the fabric of her pocket. Her pulse thunders in her ears. She pulls it out, her hand shaking, and presses it into Brooke’s palm.
Brooke exhales through her nose. “Thank you,” she says, thumbs flying as she types in the code and unlocks the screen.
“You’re not going to find anything,” Valeria says, her voice cracking, her heart battering her ribs like it wants out. Fear crowds her vision, but she plants her feet anyway. “And when you don’t, I want you to leave,” some fierce and reckless part of her says.
“What?” Brooke lets out a short laugh, not looking up from the phone. “Valeria, be serious.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” Valeria says, the words tearing their way out of her chest.
Brooke keeps scrolling through. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Brooke, I’m serious.” Valeria’s chest feels too tight, like there isn’t enough air in the room. The fear is still there, but she locks it down and turns it inward until it fuels her.
“You’re breaking up with me?” Brooke looks up with an icy gaze.
“No. I’m asking for a break, a moment to process.” It’s not what she wanted to say; she wanted to say, Yes, I’m done being afraid of you. But it feels like too much of a gamble, too final to speak to someone who loses their cool in seconds.
“No,” Brooke says. “You cannot have a break. You either work it out with me or not at all.”
“Brooke, I can’t do it with you around.” It hurts to say it. It hurts so badly she almost takes it back. Almost.
“Why?” Brooke screams, her eyes full of anger. She throws the phone, and it lands with a soft thud on the couch.
“Because you scare me,” Valeria says, the words slipping out before she can think better of it.
“What?” A vein in Brooke’s neck starts throbbing.
Valeria’s hands shake, and her lungs are on fire, but she lifts her chin even as a sob catches in her throat. She’s decided to do this, and she can’t back down. She needs to stand up for herself, no matter what Brooke might do.
“I want to feel safe, Brooke, but I don’t. I wake up bracing myself. I rehearse what I’m allowed to say. I track your moods like weather patterns.” She lets out a broken sigh. “I’m so tired of being in survival mode with you.”
Brooke’s jaw tightens. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. And I think you know it.”
Silence swells again. Valeria wipes at her face, her hands trembling, but she doesn’t look away.
“I need you to leave,” she says softly. “Please.”
Brooke doesn’t move. Her face hardened.
“You don’t mean that,” she says. “You’re just upset.”
Valeria shakes her head again, harder this time, like she’s trying to shake loose the fog that’s lived there for months. “No. This is the clearest I’ve ever been.”
For a moment, Valeria thinks Brooke might say something soft, maybe an apology. She waits, heart pounding, braced for impact, hoping her resolve will hold through one of Brooke’s apologies.
Instead, Brooke grabs her jacket from the chair it’s slung over. “You’re making a mistake, and you’ll regret this.”
“Maybe.” Valeria wishes she didn’t mean it, but doubt has been with her this entire time. Whispering just that.
Brooke lingers at the door, hand on the knob. “We’re done, you realize that, right? I leave, and there’s no coming back.”
Valeria nods because she’s shaking too much to do anything else. Without another word, the door closes behind Brooke with a dull, final sound.
Valeria rises, instinct urging her to follow Brooke.
But her legs refuse to move. As tears blur her vision, she sinks slowly back onto the couch, pressing her forehead to her hands, breathing through the pain that crashes over her, and all she can think is how she wants to be consumed by nothingness.
Before it drags her in, Valeria drives straight to Alejandra and Clara’s house.
It’s the closest to hers, and right now, even a few minutes alone feels unbearable.
She needs someone there when it breaks her, when the gravity of this breakup settles.
They’ve had so many, but Valeria knows this is the one, the one she never thought would come.