Drop Dead | Sam Fender

Chapter Thirty Nine

Aurora

My throat felt like it was closing up as made my way home. There was a thick lump that I couldn't swallow, my breathing quick and shallow. It was so bad I genuinely thought that I was going to asphyxiate.

I practically burst through the front door, sending my dad into a right fright. I hadn't even considered that he would be home, far too preoccupied with my frenzied state.

"Rory?" he called out in alarm from the living room, but I couldn't force out a reply, pressing my back against the door as a pained garble escaped my mouth. In a fit of sobs, I missed the sound of footsteps advancing towards me. "What's wrong? Are you alreet? What happened?" His words were frantic as he grasped my arms gently, inspecting me for signs of any injury, relaxing slightly when he found nothing. What he wasn't expecting was for me to collapse in his arms. "Eh, c'mon now, pet, breathe."

I clutched onto his shirt for dear life, sobbing into the crook of his neck. He just held me, shushing me softly as his arms tightened protectively around my smaller frame.

My sobs turned into hiccups after several minutes, my dad pulling away from me cautiously and directing me to the living room, seating me on the sofa. He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, reappearing with a glass of water that he passed to me.

"Thanks," I mumbled as he settled on the sofa next to me, taking a large gulp from the liquid before placing the glass on the table beside me.

"Ya gan tell us what's the matter?" he asked gently. I stared at my hands as I considered his words. I didn't want my dad to hate Sam, no matter how much he'd hurt me, but this wasn't exactly something I could keep from him.

"Sam broke up with me," I whispered, avoiding his heavy gaze. If I was looking at him, I probably would have seen his eyes widen and his jaw slacken.

"What? Why?" he gaped. I shrugged, not wanting to share the reason with him as my mind replayed Sam's words over and over again like a record player torturously stuck on repeat. Natalie was right. Three words that cut deeper than a knife. I couldn't stop the strangled sob that escaped my mouth, my tears resuming. "Oh, sweetheart."

"It hurts," I whimpered, curling into his open arms.

"I know," he sighed as his arms wrapped around me. "It's gan be alreet, it'll all work out in the end."

"What if it doesn't?" I sobbed.

"Life works in mysterious ways," he spoke gently. "Things might not always happen the way we want them to but everything happens for a reason." I didn't believe him at the time, blinded by my agony, but he was right.

"I'm gan go and call Harls," I told him through sniffles, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Alreet, love," he smiled, brushing my hair from my face and wiping away a tear that had fallen down my cheek. "You'll get through this, Rora, I promise." I nodded meekly, pushing myself up off the sofa and scurrying up to my room.

Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I recoiled when I noticed the all too familiar Springsteen jumper I was wearing. I felt a wave of rage engulf me and tore the jumper from my body, throwing it in a heap in the corner of my room. The jewellery that Sam had gifted me felt like they were burning acid against my skin as I frantically removed them. I couldn't bring myself to throw them like I had the jumper. They were far too delicate, held too much meaning. I held them in a clutched fist before depositing them in my jewellery box on my desk. Out of sight, out of mind. It felt like I was closing a chapter as I slammed the box shut and although Sam's words hurt, I couldn't help but yearn for him, to fix things. It was quite pathetic how easily I would've taken him back.

I held my hand over my mouth to silence the onslaught of sobs that I couldn't stop, squeezing my eyes tightly as though it would prevent the salty teardrops from falling. I reached for my phone, dialling the first number in my phonebook.

"Hello?" Harlow's voice echoed down the phone.

"Hi," I whispered, scared that if I were to speak at a normal level, my voice would break.

"Are ya crying? What's wrong? Are ya alreet?" she asked frantically.

"Sam broke up with me," I cried.

"What?" she demanded, shock filling her words. "Gimme five minutes, I'm coming over."

True to her word, Harlow had arrived no more than five minutes later, out of breath with a deep frown etched on her face.

"Oh, baby girl," she cooed, taking note of my body curled up under my duvet in a foetal position, my face tear-stricken. Her shoulders dropped in defeat as she lifted the covers, climbing into bed with me and pulling me into her arms, which I sunk into like a baby. "What happened?"

"He thought the song was me saying I was tired of being with him," I sniffled. "He was proper angry."

"And did ya tell him it wasn't?" she asked.

"Course I did," I cried. "It just turned into an argument about his coping mechanisms, told me he didn't want to talk to me, how he couldn't. So, I asked him how he expected us to work if we couldn't communicate."

"I'm guessing he took it badly?" she whispered sympathetically.

"Badly," I scoffed bitterly, wiping away my tears with the palm of my hand. "Accused me of looking for excuses to leave. Said and I quote, 'Natalie was right'. According to her, I'm not invested in our relationship."

"What?" she demanded. "He didn't! The audacity of that boy! I'll fuckin' end him. And her."

"I should hate him," I wept softly.

"Yeah, ya should," she told me.

"Then why don't I? Why am I wishing for him to call me and fix things?" I sobbed.

"Because you've got a big heart, pet," she sighed, rubbing my back soothingly. "It might be one of your biggest weaknesses, but it's your best quality by miles. Ya might not realise it now, but ya will. Sam will too."

I remained silent apart from the quiet cries that escaped my mouth, trawling over Harlow's words. It was true, I did have a big heart. I was way too forgiving at times. It was part of the reason I ended up in situations like this, but I couldn't find it in me to change. I loved Sam, regardless of earlier events, and there wasn't a whole lot he could do that would possibly change my mind. He had broken my heart and I would probably thank him for it. It was pathetic really.