Between Love & Hate (Part 4/5)

8.

          I walked down the hallway to my locker. Although it was nearing Christmas, our school showed no sign of it. We weren’t allowed to have anything that refers to religion in our school anymore. I loved Christmas. Every year, Sam and I would always grab a mug of hot chocolate and drive around looking at Christmas lights together. We’d laugh with each other and awe at the lights people took way too much time on. I’d be in my coat with mittens and a scarf while Sam would have on a simple sweater. He never wore jackets or coats. The only time I’ve ever really seen him in one is when we got into a fight in the parking lot. I never really thought about how weird that was until now. I also realized that ever since then he wore nothing but jackets. I loved stereotypical winter attire. I loved winter time in general, especially when it was with Sam. We both loved how there was a station that would play solid Christmas carols for a month or so and we listened to it constantly.
          I remember one particular night last Christmas, we had heard about a fantastic Christmas light show in a small town a little ways out. It was snowing that night and Sam’s car had a little trouble starting but worked nonetheless. I was bundled up and Sam wasn’t, as usual. We were driving along the empty and snowy back roads, singing along to carols and being jolly, when Sam started to pull off to the side of the road. I asked why we were stopping and he told me his car had broken down. I immediately panicked and worried that we were going to be stranded and freeze to death. Sam calmed me down and we sat in silence, wondering what would happen next.
          Then, without warning, Sam got out and ducked below the car, as if to be looking under it. I got out and walked around the car to what he was doing, but before I made it over there, got pelted in the face with a snowball. I looked at Sam with his devious face and got him back. We continued to hit each other playfully with snowballs until it started getting too cold. I surrendered and got back in the car. Sam followed.
          “Aren’t you cold?” I asked while dusting the snow off of myself and rubbing my hands together for warmth for dramatic effect. He had his arms crossed and rubbed the outside of his arms with his hands, as if that would help him become warmer.
          “No.” He said and tried to start the car again. It made a pathetic bubbly noise and remained idle. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere for a while.” He said with a light touch in his voice that made things not as bad as they seemed. I looked at Sam in his sweater that was clearly made for the autumn months, not snowy weather.
          “You sure you’re not cold?” I asked again. He smiled.
          “You know, if you’re ever trapped in a snow storm with someone, what you’re supposed to do is take of all your clothes, huddle together, and wrap all the clothes around yourselves to keep warm.” He said slyly. I smiled and rolled my eyes at him as I climbed into the backseat. Sam turned on the car so that only the radio would work as it played Christmas songs. At least something about the car worked. He climbed back with me and scooted the front seats up so we’d have leg room. He made a motion for me to scoot over so he’d have room to sit down. I scooted over and he plopped down in the middle seat. I asked him what we should tell our parents when we call them.
          “You know they’ll just assume we’re at each other’s houses if we don’t come home tonight.” He said, patting his lap as a signal for me to sit down there.
          “You mean we’d stay the night out here?” I asked as I moved over and put my legs across his lap and rested my body against his chest and my head on his shoulder. He was always so comfortable.
          “I think it’d be fun.” He said as he wrapped his arm around my waist.
          “But it’s cold.” I rebutted as I played with a loose string on one of my gloves.
         “But look how beautiful it is up here with all the snow. This is just your kind of thing.” He added. He was right. I loved this.
         “But how would we get home tomorrow?” I asked. “What would we say?” Sam thought for a minute.
         “We’ll just say we were driving out here and my car broke down…that day. It’ll work, they’ll never know the difference of tonight or tomorrow.” He said and I reluctantly agreed. There was a warm silence. I heard the Christmas songs playing lightly in the background and saw the snowy scene that surrounded us. I could feel Sam’s warmth underneath me, even though it was freezing out. All of a sudden it didn’t feel like we were just friends anymore. Sam glided his hand from around my waist to the back of my neck. I turned my head to face him and he got closer. His other hand took mine gently. Then everything around us had disappeared and the only thing that mattered was Sam kissing me. And it wasn’t like before. It was better with more behind it. More importantly he was sober, and had really meant it this time.
          My perfect memory of last Christmas was ruined by Annie coming up to me and telling me about anyone and everyone. In between getting my books and hearing her blather on, I caught word of another party that she wanted me to go to with her that night.
         I had never really thought about that night in Sam’s car much until just then. I couldn’t get it out of my head for the rest of the day. Had he really meant it or was it just another right time right place sort of things?
          At lunch I looked around for Sam as I had made it a habit to do now and didn’t see him, again. I hadn’t seen Sam at all that week and today I let my curiosity get the best of me. I walked up to Paul and them and asked where Sam had been. I was surprised when they answered civilly without giving me mean looks (although they didn’t really show any emotion at all) and said they hadn’t heard from him in a while.
          “We don’t really hang out anymore.” Z added. I sighed and made my way back to Annie. I slumped in my chair and looked all around me. Annie continued talking to the girls I never said a word to. Without even realizing it, I had become a lesser version of the “baby guarls.” I shut out my outside world and traveled back to my treasured memories of Sam and I.
          I thought back to last Christmas again. It was just a week or two after getting stranded on our way to the light show. Christmas at my house was over and had turned back into a normal day. I was helping my sister with one of her new toys and the doorbell rang. I expected it to be Sam and not to my surprise it was. Usually Sam and I never got each other a thing for Christmas, instead we just did something special. I opened up the door and Sam leapt on me wishing me a Merry Christmas. I noticed he had a small box in his hand. He noticed that I noticed.
          “Gotcha something.” He smiled as he handed the box to me. I couldn’t help but beam while carefully opening the pretty gold paper and red ribbon. I hated to tear pretty gifts. Inside the white box was a piece of what looked like colorful material. I made a bamboozled face at Sam and he urged me to take it out. I did and it was a very, very sultry undergarment. A lacy thong to be exact. I started cracking up. He did too.
         “Funny. Too bad I’d never wear it.” I said laughing as I flung it at him like a sling shot. He caught it and hugged me tight.
         “Merry Christmas El!” He said, and kissed me on the cheek.

          How come I had never really thought about last Christmastime at all, I wondered. How did I not see how Sam was acting? All I remembered was thinking the car kiss was cute of him but didn’t think anything more of it. Just a mere Christmas surprise. I didn’t think Sam ever thought of me in “that way” but it seemed very clear to me now, looking back on things, that maybe Sam did at that time. He didn’t feel that way about me now though, I was sure of it.
          I was awakened from my deep train of thought by Annie nudging me on the shoulder.
          “Well?” she asked impatiently.
          “Well what?” I asked back. I obviously hadn’t been listening to a word she had been saying.
         “Is it true?” her eyes were big, just as they got when she was in a gossipy mode. Which was all the time.
         “Is what true?” I got agitated.
         “That your friend Sam got expelled and that’s why he hasn’t been here all week.”
         “No!” I quickly dismissed the rumor. “Who even said that?” I got angry because I really didn’t know if it was true or not.
         “I don’t know that’s just what people have been saying.” She took a bite of her salad.
         “Well it’s not true.” I lied. It very well may have been true. I just didn’t want it to be. “Now if you would excuse me.” I said as I got up and left to go be alone. They continued their chatter.

          I ditched Annie as soon as I could once we got there that night. I couldn’t handle any more of that girl. I grabbed the first bottle of anything that I saw and drowned Sam, Annie and everything away. Laughing. Happiness. Dancing. New Faces. New “friends”. Panic. Slipping. Yelling. Blackness. Gone.

          My eyes opened and I saw Charlie above me.
          “Feeling okay?” he asked sweetly. I immediately smelled the vomit on my jacket.
          “Kind of.” I said, still a little unsteady. I looked around me to find we were in the back of Charlie’s car. He must have folded the back seat down or something.
         “Here, take off your jacket,” He said, helping it off of me. I only had on a tank top underneath. “Drink some water.” He said as he handed me a water bottle from one of the cup holders. I meekly sipped it. It tasted funny but it was water and it was what I needed.
          “What even happened?” I asked. He started telling me that Annie had called him because I was in “bad shape”. In the middle of his explaining, every word he said became hilarious. I giggled uncontrollably. A smile then curled upon his face. It seemed to pop out of his face, like it was 3-D. It was so pretty I couldn’t even believe it.
         “Charlie!” I said as I pounced on him and hugged him tight. “I’m so happy you came and got me!!” We pulled away and I saw his devious 3-D smile up close.
         “Your shirt’s wet, maybe you should take it off.” He suggested. It sounded like a good idea at the time so I did it. I later realized my shirt wasn’t even wet. He kissed me hard and uncomfortably but I was too happy to stop anything. He quickly ripped all of his clothes off and convinced me to do the same, which wasn’t hard at all. Everything was so beautiful and incredible, I wanted to stay here forever. Everything that was happening looked more and more wonderful through my eyes.
          Charlie got me on my back and started telling me things, like how beautiful I was and I think even “I love you.” I giggled and told him I loved him too and that he and his car were very pretty. I felt him up against me and every feeling was euphoria. He was quickly finished and then he dressed. He drove me to my house and I stayed up for hours feeling happy and how soft my blanket felt. Somehow, I drifted off to sleep.

          I woke up to my phone ringing. Annie asked me if I was okay and if I got home safe and things like that. I told her I was fine. I tried to remember exactly what had happened last night and Charlie came to mind. I immediately lost control. Did that really happen? It did. It did it did it did. I became hysterical.
         “Oh God!” I screamed into the phone.
         “What?! What’s wrong?” Annie asked frantically.
         “Charlie!” I wailed. “No!”
         “Arielle what happened?” she asked. I couldn’t even choke any words out. I hung up the phone and cried into my pillow. How could he have taken advantage of me like that? Was that actually water that he had given me? No. I wondered what he had put in there. Why did he do this to me?! He was such a nice guy. Annie was calling again. I picked up.
         “Arielle what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I stifled my sobs enough to tell her roughly what happened. She gasped and I immediately regretted telling her.
         “That’s terrible! Charlie? Are you sure?” She kept asking over and over. I said I needed to go and hung up. I felt used. I wondered why. I always wondered why. No, I wasn’t used. It was just a dream. I could only be in denial for so long. The rest of that weekend trudged along so slowly. I didn’t see or talk to anyone besides my family, and I shunned even them.
         As I walked into school and saw Charlie laughing with his friends I remembered it all again. I got angry. Furious. My blood boiled and my muscles clenched. Without even thinking, my body approached Charlie. I came up to him and he smiled and said “Heeey Arielle!” all nice and suave-like. I slapped him hard across the face. Some of his friends snickered, covering their mouths with their fists to cover it up. Charlie rubbed his cheek.
         “What was that for?” he asked innocently. He was such bull shit. I narrowed my eyes at him.
         “Don’t even play that with me. What were you thinking?!” I yelled at him. He looked around nervously at his friends.
         “Can’t we talk about this somewhere else?” he asked nervously.
         “No. Right here, right now.” I shouted. Charlie looked at his buddies again. They took the hint and started walking away. Some looked back a few times as I continued to yell at Charlie who stood there, not saying a word. “What were you thinking?” I screamed at him again. Then he put on his sad eyes and got all sweet.
         “I just…” he paused and looked down at his feet. My pissed off pose didn’t change. “I just liked you so much.”
         “So you drugged and banged me in the back of your car?! Even though I already had been pass out drunk?!?! First you try and kill me by mixing substances in me and then you rape me?!” I shrieked at him. The more I said it the more angered I became at it. I’m sure the whole hallway could have heard me. Charlie rubbed the back of his neck as he so often did when he felt uncomfortable and started to try and redeem himself. I slapped him hard against the face again and continued talking. “No. You don’t get a chance to explain. You fucked up and that’s it.” Charlie tried to get one more word in. It failed again. “No. Shut up. I’m done with this.” And I stormed off, leaving him with nothing more to say.

9.

          Sam wasn’t at school today again. I needed him more than ever now. No one could get me through this like Sam could. I’m sure the whole school knew about what had happened by now, partly because I was yelling at the top of my lungs and also I had told Annie, who couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. I stopped feeling sorry for myself for a minute to think of Sam. I wondered if he really was expelled. I wouldn’t doubt it if he was. I needed to know what was up.
         I nervously dialed Sam’s house number. He hated when people called his cell phone when he was at home.
         “Hello?”
         “Hey.” I said flatly.
         “Hey El.” He tried to say as naturally as he could. The words just didn’t fit.
         “Hi.” We shared an awkward silence. “People are saying you got expelled.” I said.
         “No! I’ve just been sick. That’s all.” He immediately said. I didn’t believe him.
         “With what?” I interrogated.
         “I’ve just been really tired and nauseous, that’s all.” I heard the smile in his voice. Always so charming.
          “Oh.” We now had nothing to say. He seemed happy. Euphoric, even. It didn’t seem real though. This was what he was now. This was Sam, new and improved. Only there was no improvement, just corrosion. I hated this person. He made me sick now. He was Sam except with a thick fake shell over him.
          “Well I guess I better be going. Just wanted to see if you were expelled or not.” I politely laughed to make things less awkward. We hung up. My thoughts changed from Charlie to Sam. I thought until late that evening.
          It seemed that Sam had grown out of me just like an old broken pair of jeans. Excited when you first got them, comforting to wear, every rip and hole and stain holds thousands of memories, but you try them on one day and they don’t fit anymore. Sam and I tried each other on again but we no longer fit. I felt the sting of tears starting to come into my eyes. I missed him. There was nothing worse than losing a friend. I refused to accept this. I needed to see him.
          I told my parents where I was going. They didn’t care, of course. The sun was going down so I walked a little faster than usual, not wanting to end up walking alone in the dark. I thought of a million words I could say to Sam when I got to his house. I decided on nothing, letting the words come out as they pleased once I arrived. There was just too much to say. I let myself in his house using the key they hid under a rock, as I used to. His mom was out of town tonight. I remembered a long time ago, when we’d talk as we did every time I’d go over there, she told me how excited she was to go to this convention. It was 2 or so hours away and I forgot what it was for, but I can still see the excitement in his mom’s eyes when she told me about it. And that was where she was tonight. I wiped my eyes of their fresh tears that I didn’t want Sam to see. I had been crying all day. I nervously headed to Sam’s room and opened the door slowly and cautiously, so nervous to see the person whom I’ve shared so much of my life with who was now a stranger. Sam’s head jerked toward the door and my heart sank. His eyes were wide with fear and something else I had never seen in him before. His body was limp and lifeless. He didn’t care about himself anymore and it showed. His room was a mess, but not a Sam mess. It was different and more deadly.
          I stood in the doorway staring at what was left of my Sam. Every thought I had earlier completely disappeared from my mind to make room for this new catastrophe. There he sat in his desk chair with his dead left arm tied off and stretched downward. He had a syringe in his right hand just about to push the deadly needle into his once innocent vein. We stood there in silence for a second, looking at each other. Then he dropped the syringe onto the desk and it landed with a morbid clink. He roughly untied the strap that was tied dreadfully tight around his arm. The air was stiff and uncomfortable. He started to stand up and opened his mouth to say something to me.
         “El, I…” he stopped. He had nothing else to say. He really didn’t have to say anything anyway. What I saw contained enough words to last me a lifetime. That image would never ever leave my mind. His eyes went from scared to scary. A sudden hatred rose into his eyes that I had never seen before. An evil seemed to emerge in him at that very moment and penetrated through my soul as I stood in his doorway, unable to move, think, or speak. Finally, I regained control of my senses and feebly whispered.
          “What have you done?” My eyes began to well up. I hated him. I hated what he had become. He was despicable, sitting there at his desk. Who did he think he was, ruining his life that consequently ruined mine? I hated to love him. I hated to hate him. He had been so close to me and now he was cold and distant. Disappointment didn’t even come close to this. My whole heart just fell out from the minute I walked through his door. Tears began to form more heavily, except they weren’t the familiar simple droplets I had met earlier. Tears of frustration, hurt, fear, love, hate, came pouring down my face, glistening on my cheek from his bedroom light. Every thought I thought only twisted the knot in my stomach harder and made me even angrier and sadder and hysterical. There was a ball of hatred welled up inside my throat waiting to be screamed, cried, yelled out. It physically hurt. My breathing became broken up and I couldn’t catch my breath. I just wanted to cry and cry and cry all of it out.
          Sam looked me straight in the eye. Instead of those bright green eyes I was used to seeing so long ago, I saw a different set of eyes looking at me. They didn’t belong to Sam. They were still green, but were faded and now belonged to a stranger. His pupils were miniscule. His voice got calm and very stern and it scared me. I could feel the anger, the rage underlying in his voice.
         “Arielle,” his voice got still and serious. “You don’t know me anymore.” He spoke very smoothly and evenly and angrily. It wasn’t Sam. He had called me Arielle. He hadn’t called me that since we first met. Arielle. That name seemed so foreign on his tongue. I didn’t know what he was talking about. Of course I knew him. He’s still the same Sam I’ve known and loved all these years. We’ve laughed together, talked through our tough times, always been there for each other, cried on each other’s shoulders...been best friends. We had gone through a rough time but this was still the same Sam. Almost.
          I finally broke down. Tears that couldn’t and I wouldn’t stop poured out of my heart. Sobs so heavy they shook my chest violently as they emerged. The ball in my throat released through my loud untamed sobs. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” I yelled at him through my tears. “You promised me!” My body began to give out under me and I slowly sank to the ground in a heap of my own tears.
          “Don’t do that.” He said at me but I continued to cry. I could see in his eyes that he knew he was trapped, that he wanted things to go back to normal, but his ego was too big now to admit to anything. I wanted so badly for him to forget everything that has happened and hug me like he used to. I wanted him to gather me in his strong arms and hold me until I stopped crying. Instead, he stared at me with a long steady gaze, hating me; hating himself and who he had become. Hating that he didn’t know how to love me anymore. But I realized he was right. I didn’t know him anymore. The Sam I used to know wouldn’t have told me “don’t do that.” He wouldn’t have made me cry in the first place. This wasn’t Sam.
          I got up and ran out, still crying. I was crying for him and for myself and what was left of us, what was left of him. I went out his front door without even shutting it behind me. I cried as I walked all the way home, alone in the night. I had walked this path in the dark before. Branches cracked under my feet. I charged into my room and shut and locked the door and pounced onto my bed. My pillows soon became drenched with tears. It was over. I had finally lost Sam. He was dead. It would never be the same between us. His life is ruined. That was all I could think of. He’s never going to be the same person. I stared at the intricate detail of my walls to help steady my thoughts. My phone rang and I quickly answered it. I knew it was Sam. I knew how badly he needed me, and even though he had been nothing but a prick to me, I’d still be there for him.
          “Sam?” He didn’t say a word. He just started crying. And I mean really crying. He was trying to say things to me through his tears but all I could hear was his painful wailing. I had heard Sam cry before but not like this. This was too much. My heart was dying for him. I wanted him back to the way we used to be. Listening to him cry made me cry again. Finally he choked out a few words.
         “El, I need help. I hate myself. I miss you.” He wailed. I could hardly understand him but I knew that’s exactly what he said. All I could do was cry back to him telling him how much I didn’t want to see him end up dead or completely screwed up and that I cared about him and hated that he was like this now and that I was going to change and wanted him to change too and-“El I just want to die.” He interrupted me, his voice shaking; unstable. Sam wasn’t stupid enough to kill himself. I knew he wouldn’t do it. He had too much to lose if he killed himself.
          “Don’t say that.” I said very sternly and he knew that I meant it.
          “El come back, I need you. I’m sorry for everything I said, I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you, I’m sorry for what you saw, what I don’t know about you and what you don’t know about me,” his voice slowed, his heart gushing into every word he said. “But I need you now. I want you back.” I forgot everything he’s ever done to me and told my deadened friend that I’d be over in a second and to not do anything stupid. We hung up and I got in my car. Walking just wasn’t fast enough this time. I went into his house, the door still wide open, and into his room. He was silently sobbing on his bed, propped up against his wall. His eyes were closed and he didn’t see me walk into his room. The syringe and strap were still on his desk, untouched. I went over to him and sat on his bed next to him. It was then I noticed for the first time his wrists were scarred butchered and torn. The jackets. My heart wrenched.
          His eyes had opened by now and he looked at me looking at his slashed arms. I gently, barely touching, rubbed my hand over the scars and cuts. I looked up at him. “Sam” I said softly. I gathered him in my arms and just held him. I held his once full of life body as we both cried.
          “I need to get help.” He sobbed.
          “I’ll help you.”
          “I don’t know how I’m going to ever stop myself.”
          “Sam, you can do it. You can.” I rubbed his back reassuringly.
          “Look at me! I’m worthless. I’m disgusting. How could I have done all of this to you?” he started crying heavily again. I didn’t know what to do except be there with him. I didn’t want him to be sent away to an awful place. I wanted him to stay here with me. I comforted him until we both settled down enough to talk.
          “Sam, have you done any of that stuff today?”
          “No. I only do it once, maybe twice a day and that was gonna be the first…” his voice trailed off.
          “You have to stop.” I pleaded. “You need to. I’ll stay with you tonight. I’ll be here for you.” I said, looking straight into his tiny black pupils, searching for the old Sam. I could faintly see a ghost of that old Sam if I looked hard enough. His eyebrows got thankful.
          “Would you really stay with me tonight, El? You mean it?” I told him that I meant it from the bottom of my heart. I wanted so badly to ask Sam about everything but those questions were for a later time. I had gotten Sam calm and I had calmed down myself. I told him about Charlie. Sam got all kinds of mad. He told me the kind of person Charlie really was. He compared him to Eddie, the “rapist” and I felt stupid for buying into Charlie’s nice act.
          “He’s nice when it comes to taking you back to your house when you’re messed up, but other than that he’s a douche.” Sam informed me. “Don’t worry El, I’ll get back at him for you.” And he smiled. We sat for a second. Sam shook his head to himself. “Asshole.” He muttered. He looked up at me. “You didn’t deserve that. You know that right?” he slowly was coming back to normal.
          “I know.” I told him.
          “I don’t deserve you.” He said more solemnly.
          “What do you mean?” I asked, thinking back to Christmas time.
          “You’re just perfect.” He said looking into my eyes.
          Sam’s body began to jump, distracting both of us from what was being said.
          “What’s happening?” I asked alarmed.
          “I just need a fix.” He said trying to settle his body down to no avail.
          “Sam you can’t, you’re quitting.” I told him firmly.
          “I know, but just one more time, I need it. Look at me.” He looked down at himself and then his eyes wandered over to his desk. “It’s all ready and everything.”
          “Sam, no. You have to stay strong.” I said steadfastly. I started to worry. I saw what this had done to him. Once carefree Sam had turned into a troubled addict. He no longer had that sparkle in his eye. His body was just a temporary habitat for this deadbeat soul. Old Sam had run away and I was scared I’d never find him again. It was scary how something could completely change a person like this. I crawled into his bed and got under the covers next to him. I leaned my head on his shoulder and hugged his waist.
         “You’ll be okay, Sam.” I closed my eyes and a tear rolled down my cheek. Sam noticed and wiped it away.
          “El, don’t cry.” He said sweetly. I buried my face on his chest to stifle my sobs. He put his arm around my shoulders and held me. I tried to speak through my tears.
          “I hate seeing you like this.” I wailed. Sam’s body twitched under me. It reminded me of Sam’s pain and I kept crying. After a few moments he released his caring hold on my shoulders and morphed.
          “Stop it.” He said meanly. His voice was angry with me. It scared and surprised me, like so many other things had tonight. I sat up and scoot over. I studied Sam sitting there, staring at the wall, his leg involuntarily twitching every so often. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. I said nothing, afraid he’d lash out at me again. I stared at him. Silence. Then his stomach doubled and he turned to his side. His hands holding his stomach, he started vomiting over the side of his bed. Oh God, what do I do? I thought. Alarmed, I reached out and gently held his arm so he wouldn’t fall off the bed and to let him know I was here. He threw my hand off violently. I was hurt. I ignored my feelings and quickly ran into the bathroom to get towels to lay down over that spot. He started yelling in agony. His voice was raw as he continued to yell out his pain. My insides collapsed.
         “Sam, let’s go in the bathroom.” I urged, trying to talk over his painful cries. They echoed through my ears and reverberated my soul. I had a damp towel in hand and tried cleaning Sam’s face as gently as I could. He squirmed and kicked me off. Every time he pushed me off, my heart sank lower. I kept trying to cool his face with the towel, rub his back, do something, anything, to comfort him. Everything I tried he’d violently shove me away, pushing me further away from him.
          “I’m cold.” He managed to say in his agony. I wrapped a blanket around his twitching body. He didn’t stop moving. I looked at his eyes and he was crying. Under his bottom eyelids were red and sad. He was shaking still, even as I put more blankets around him. He told me he was still cold but I could see him sweating. He fought with me but I took it. This was bad. Horrible. I couldn’t deal with this by myself. I needed help.
         “Sam, we need to get you more help. I can’t handle you like this by myself.” I begged him. He needed to go to a place that would help him more than I ever could. Sam’s eyes got wide and angry and his arm lashed out and hit my ear. I flinched and kept my distance. He yelled at me.
         “Don’t you dare call anyone.” He said through hysteria. He threw up again on the towel I had lied down previously. He started yelling in greater pain. His pain hurt me.
         “What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked frantically. I didn’t understand what was hurting. He wrapped his arms around his whole body, clenching tight as if to squeeze away the pain.
          “Sam, what’s wrong.” I pleaded. The pain on his face looked unbearable. He was crying, squeezing his eyes shut, sweating, squeezing his arms, his legs, everything that was hurting him. He would try and talk to me but the pain silenced him. His body twitched uncontrollably and his yells were agonizing. His breathing was loud and uneven. He kept saying he was cold even though his hair was wet from his sweat. I couldn’t stand to see him like this. He was being tortured by his own body. I got out my phone and called 911. I didn’t know what else to do. I frantically told them everything they needed to know while I fought off Sam. He was angry. Raging at me. He didn’t want anyone to know. But how could I not call for help? He needed it and bad. His body was wasting away and he refused to believe it. I packed Sam a bag of everything I thought he’d need. I tried calming him down but to no avail. He flung his arms and kicked and yelled, screaming in pain. Gut-wrenching cries for help mixed in with anger, anguish, rage, and sadness. It was unbearable. I never stopped crying the whole time.
         I started hearing sirens make their way to Sam’s house. I was afraid to leave Sam alone but needed to tell the EMSA workers where to go and his information. I heard them right outside the house and raced to the door to meet them. Panting, I approached the workers taking out a stretcher. They followed me inside to where I had left Sam. He was still shaking and held intolerable pain. His eyes were red and tired but showed no signs of sleep any time soon. The head ambulance worker was young, in his 30’s at the oldest. He asked me all kinds of questions.
         “How long has he been without the heroin?” he asked, his face even and serious. His voice, professional.
          “A day or two?” My voice was shaky and nervous. I didn’t know the right answers and I was too shaken to be in control. Several medics fled into Sam’s room and struggled with him to get him out to the ambulance.
         “Where are his parents?” the head asked me, calmly.
         “His mom’s out of town.” I began to regain control of my voice.
         Out of the corner of my eye I saw a medic take out a shot, a stabilizer, I assumed. It took 4 or 5 people to hold him steady to give it to him. He was kicking and flailing everywhere. My heart was crushed, nonexistent. I couldn’t believe this was Sam.
         “And who are you?” the man asked.
          “I’m his best friend.” I answered with confidence. He got all of my and his information. By now Sam was mostly stabilized, a few of the medics were getting him on the stretcher and carrying him out. I followed close behind and got in the back of the ambulance with him. The sirens sounded and we took off on our way to the hospital.
          The ambulance ride was brutal. It was scary, cramped, alarming. Sam was lying there in the middle, medics hovering about him getting his blood pressure, hooking him up to machines. They even had one of those breathing masks on him. He looked like he was dying and it scared me silent. The ambulance drove fast, causing everything to rattle as bumps were hit. I thought of calling Sam’s mom. Was there an easy way to tell her without her completely breaking down? No, I’d let the doctors call. The medics were asking me questions, half to get information about Sam and the other to get me to calm down. It was already something that they let me in the ambulance. Whatever they had given Sam, started to kick in and he became quieter. I stood besides him and held his hand. He looked at me with his drained eyes.
          “I love you, Sam.” I told him, my eyes starting to tear again. He squeezed my hand and drifted into unconsciousness.

          We got into the emergency room. A nice lady told me they were giving Sam something to ease the withdrawal pains. She ushered me into the waiting room where I sat in a small chair. I somehow dosed off to sleep because the next thing I knew the same nice lady was waking me up, telling me to come with her. I did. She led me into Sam’s room where I saw his mother worriedly hovered over her son. Her head turned toward the door as I entered. Sam’s mom was an old kind of pretty. Her eyes now looked worried and tired. Her face sunken. She ran over to me and hugged me. I smelt the cold wet air on her coat. Sam’s mom had always liked me, just as my parents always have liked Sam. And she just hugged me and we started to cry. I had always felt closer to Sam’s mom than my own. She was so much warmer, more motherly than my mom. She cried telling me all sorts of things about Sam, how he was such a good boy and how much she loved him. She never once mentioned how she was missing her anticipated trip. I looked over at Sam lying there in his bed. He was very still. His eyes were closed and eyelids were red. His face looked gaunt, yet he looked more peaceful than earlier that night.
         Sam’s mom and I talked of our memories with Sam. Like when we were riding our bikes around the neighborhood in 7th grade and Sam fell and broke his arm. And another time, when I had gotten my tonsils out, Sam walked over to my house, which seemed a lot further that long ago, with a big cup of chocolate chip ice cream. And Christmas. We paused for a second. She stared at Sam lying there, drugged so he wouldn’t feel pain. I could see so many thoughts running through her mind as she sat.
         “Sam loves you, Arielle.” She didn’t take her eyes off of him. “Very much. You know that right?” My throat became tight. Those words made me happy yet sad at the same time. Happy because he was Sam. Sad because he was Sam lying in a hospital bed. Sad because he was Sam, whom I hadn’t really talked to in ages. I shook my head yes. “You’re the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him.” I had nothing to say back to her. I just sat there with her and understood. She finally turned her head and looked at me. She was looking into my eyes. She talked directly into my soul. “Never leave his side. You’re his everything, Arielle…El.” She gave me a friendly smiled yet I could still see the sadness and pain in her eyes. I faintly smiled back. It was all I could force out at this hour.
          “I won’t. I promise.” I did promise. I promised from the deepest darkest depths of my heart that I’d never ever leave Sam’s side, no matter what. Cross my heart, hope to die.

* * *

          I somehow awoke the next morning in my bed. It was early. My mom and dad were speaking to each other in hushed voices. I pretended to sleep to listen to what they were saying.
          “I just can’t break it to her, Tam.” I heard my dad say. Tammy. I hated my mother’s name.
          “Do it for me, Allen.” She asked selfishly. I rolled over in bed pretending to wake up for the first time. I rubbed my eyes and my parents got silent. I turned and faced them.
          “What?” I asked. They both looked at me, not saying a word. Their eyes were wide and their eyebrows looked worried or nervous, I couldn’t tell which one. Maybe both. They waited a moment. My dad got up from my chair and sat down on the foot on my bed and I sat up.
          “Arielle,” he began. I could tell it was hard for him. I said What? with my eyes. “Last night Sam’s mother checked Sam into a rehab facility.” I didn’t know what to say or how to even react. A million questions ran through my mind. I decided on one.
          “When’s he coming back?” My eyes started to cry again. My dad put his hand on my shoulder.
          “It all depends.” I saw my mother in the background sip her coffee.
          “Can I talk to him?” My dad made an uncomfortable face.
          “Well,” he hesitated. “No. But he’ll be back in 3 months and then you guys can talk whenever you want.”
          “Might as well be forever!” I said dramatically and flopped back onto my pillow.
          “Actually, 3 months isn’t bad compared to other people who usually have to stay for a whole lot longer.” My mom chimed in. She always made things worse. I sighed harshly as I fell back onto my bed and pulled the blanket over my face so my parents wouldn’t see me cry.
          “He’ll be back before you know it.” My dad said sympathetically.
          “3 months!” was all I said back. Eventually, my parents shuffled out of my room.
          I sulked in my bed for most of the day. I started blaming myself. If I had just helped him myself I’d be talking to him right now. But then I’d come to my senses and realize that he did need more help. I wondered so many things, like where he even got the heroin and how things had led up to that in the first place.
          I had silently cried myself back to sleep when my dad knocked softly on my door. I could tell he wanted to talk just by the fact that he came in. I pretended to still be sleeping to avoid the talk for a little while longer. He called out my name. I stirred and opened my eyes.
          “You know we have to talk about Sam and all of this.” He said in a father tone.
          “Yeah. I guess.”
          “Do you know how this happened?” he asked.
          “No. I haven’t been talking to him lately.” I said, hoping to shorten all conversation.
         “So you don’t know anything? His reasons, where he got it…”
         “No.” I interrupted. I wiped the wetness from my eye. There was a silence.
          “Listen Arielle, I know you’re going to miss him, but it’s only 3 months. It can go by real quick if you want it to.” He said hopefully.
         “But it’s almost Christmas and he’s not going to be here!” I almost cried but I caught myself.
          “I know, it’ll be rough but I promise you can do it. I’ll even tell your sister to not be so bratty to you.” He winked. I smiled barely. I hated when people tried to make me smile when I’m not in the mood. He tousled my hair and left, closing the door behind him.