Little Sammy

They were sitting on top of a half-destroyed wall, their legs hanging down into the emptiness, as Bryan passed him the cigarette. Sam slowly inhaled the poisoning smoke and closed his eyes. The day's been so shitty it could almost seem he'd never survived it and actually shot his brains out somewhere in the middle of it. The sky was beginning to turn red, transforming into a pinkish-orange mess that reminded him of the orange sauce he made a couple of days ago for the cake for his sister's birthday. The cake ended up tasting pretty decently, considering that Sam had never baked one before. But Samantha looked so satisfied and happy that he'd do it over and over again; he'd do anything, just to always be able to see that joyful smile on her lips, and those eyes get filled with happiness. He also bought her favorite candles as a little present. It took him quite a while to pack them up nicely. Candles with a lemon and strawberry aroma. He could already feel the smell fill their room as soon as Sammy would light them up. That crap wouldn't go away easily even if you keep the window open the whole day, but Samuel could handle it. Anything to make Samantha happy, in fact.

"Gonna tell me what happened, or you wanna keep it all to yourself 'till you explode?" Bryan asked, taking his almost burnt cigarette back from Samuel and inhaling himself. Sam didn't want to talk at all; he was too tired. The situation was repeating itself for the 100th time probably, and he found himself deeply stuck in it, not knowing how to break out. He was literally locked up, and the identical image was being projected on a massive screen in front of him while Sam couldn't stand up and leave the cinema, or at least turn his head away. He felt powerless. Sam knew that there was a solution, the only one he had, but it wasn't enjoyable to think about; he wasn't even sure whether he actually wanted to put it to practice.

"Dad again. We argued," Sam answered shortly, letting his head drop down and looking at his dirty "All-Stars." He probably needed a new pair of shoes; these were literally starting to fall apart from how much he wore them during these last three years. But they still had an excellent resistance considering that he continuously went to places that weren't really suitable for relaxed walks and did things that required a lot of jumping and running. Even now, he and Bryan were on a dump on the outskirts of town. An abandoned factory, was it? Somehow it was always half-destroyed places, forgotten by life, Gods, and humans, filled with a past or a present they never got a chance to see, to attract the two boys. Because among ruined walls, wires, broken light bulbs hanging from ceilings, and graffiti on every single surface you could lay your eyes on. There was an immense amount of peace and inspiration, of silence and souls connected to that place, whose steps could still be heard if listening closely.

"I already guessed that. What did you argue about this time?" Bryan asked again, turning to lay down on top of the lone standing concrete wall, his one leg still hanging down from it, while the other was bent at the knee to help him keep his balance. He placed one arm under his head, and the other rested on his stomach, cigarette held by the thin line of his skin-colored, slightly pale lips. The male was almost levitating on top of that wall, whilst Sam was too scared to lose his balance and fall to lay in such a pose. He already got nervous enough only by sitting on it like that. That was probably because he was too obsessed with controlling the situation, Samuel thought. One thing that didn't go as planned, and he was already panicking without a clue in his head about what to do next. Obsessive-compulsive disorder, is that what it's called? He never went to a psychologist precisely because he was too scared to hear a professional name that thing as his official diagnosis. So he just tried to cope with it all by himself, sometimes with a little bit of Bryan's help, maybe.

"Some stupid bullshit again, like always. Dad never needs a clear reason to yell at me and show me that I'm a pathetic clown that never knows what he's talking about. Hell, seems like he considers me completely brainless," Sam chuckled sadly, closing his eyes. He could feel tears slowly rise from the depth of his heart's ocean and rise up right to his eyes. He so didn't want to cry again today. Didn't he get enough before when he closed himself up in his and Samantha's room and cried his lungs out into the pillow? Or were his stocks of tears infinite? Samuel shook his head from side to side slowly and lowered his upper body down to the right to lay his temple on Bryan's knee. He could feel his balance change and tremble like a Calibri's wings, but he immediately got it back under control. "He'll never take me seriously, will he?" Sam said, not knowing whom exactly he was asking that question right now: Bryan, himself, or some supreme creature that could give him an actual concrete answer?