Oh Ms Believer

38. Jenna

"I don't know what to do," I said to Debby after Samantha had run upstairs.

Debby looked at me with sympathy. I knew she didn't have the answers either, but she was the only adult I could talk to.

"I don't know either, Jen, but she's not doing well. She's losing too much weight, she's zoning out for longer and longer periods. Like she's running on autopilot."

I nodded. Debby was right. It had been right in front of us all this time, and I'd either refused to see it, or had been busy between the two littles and trying to keep the household running. And maybe a part of me didn't want to believe Sam was struggling as much as she was.

"Sammy sad, Mama," Rosie said. "Why Sammy so sad?"

"Oh, Rosie, I wish I knew. She's still sad about what happened in June, and I don't know how to make her feel better. Do you?" I asked my almost three-year-old. Was that an unfair burden to put on a toddler?

"We should make a party! Sammy loves parties!"

Parties were always Rosie's suggestion. I don't think this is a problem that a party can fix. I smiled at Rosie. It wasn't a bad idea. Just not one that I think was going to work this time.

"I think Sammy might be a little too sad for a party this time, sweetheart. This is a bit bigger than a party."

Rosie made a very cute 'I'm thinking' face.

"Jen, have you spoken to anyone? Like B and Sarah? Or Pete?"

"Tyler sent them a text and they said they'd check in with her. I haven't asked her if they have. That's not my business. But maybe it's time if I asked them."

"That might not be the worst idea," I said. I pulled out my phone and texted Sarah first.

"Hey Sarah," I typed into my phone. "You know what Sam's been going through, and I know Tyler texted the guys to check in with her. I was wondering if you or B have? She's really struggling, and I can't get her to talk to us. She's losing weight and not eating. I don't know how well she's sleeping. I'm starting to get really, really worried."

I waited to see if she'd reply. Less than five minutes later, she sent a long text.

"Hey Jen.

B got a text from Ty the other day and I know he's sent Sam a couple of texts. I don't think she's responded to him, though.

He's already freaking out. You know how he is when it comes to Sam. I think if he could, he would have flown out there under his own power. We've been talking about her and talking with Pete and Zack and Kala. They're all worried, too. We know what she's been through, and we agree. She's not the same kid she was on tour. She only sends short answers when we text her if she responds to us at all.

Jen, she needs help and I know you know this. But I don't think even she knows what kind of help she needs.

You know B and I are here if you need us. And you know we will come out there in a heartbeat.

We're worried, too. Please keep us in the loop. We're ready to hop on a plane the minute you say."

"She hasn't really responded to any of them," I told Debby. "If she does, she gives short answers like she gives us."

Debby sighed and shook her head.

"I don't know what to say, Jen. She isn't backsliding. She's backslid. You need to get Doc more involved, I think."

I wanted to cry. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if waiting for Tyler to talk with her was the right thing to do. I wondered if I should take her to the hospital now. But I wouldn't even be able to tell the doctors our main concern.

"I think I'm going to start by checking on Samantha," I said, heading towards the stairs. "And hopefully, Tyler will call soon, and we can figure out what we really should be doing."

Debby nodded and I made my way up towards Samantha's room. I knocked on her door, but there was no answer.

"Sam?"

Still no answer. I was worried. My heart was pounding. Even from the washroom she should have been able to hear me.

"Sam, I'm coming in!" I called out.

Debby was making her way up the stairs.

"Jen? What's going on?"

"She's not answering me," I said, opening the door. Sam wasn't on her bed so I went over to her washroom. The door was closed, so I knocked.

"Sam?"

No answer.

I turned the knob, but her door was locked.

"Sam?!" I cried out. "Samantha, open the door!"

I started banging on the door.

"Do you have a key?" Debby asked.

"I don't know. Check the desk in the hallway."

Debby ran out of the room and came back with a key we kept. I slipped it in the lock and opened the door. Samantha was lying on her bathroom floor. She was on her side, and her eyes were closed. I ran to her side and looked her over. Her sleeve had come up, and I saw the marks on her arms.

"Debby," I said, picking up Sam's arm. Her hand flew to her mouth.

I shook Sam.

"Samantha! Samantha! Wake up!"

She started to stir and groaned. I was trying to keep my composure, but I wasn't doing a good job because tears were streaming down my face.

"Samantha! Open your eyes, sweetheart. Please!"

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around before sitting up quickly and pushing herself backwards against her cabinets, while she pulled her sleeves down over her hands again.

"Sweetheart," I said, trying to get close to her. She kept scooting back, away from me. There was fear in her eyes. Her eyes kept darting between Debby and me.

"Samantha," Debby said, getting down on the floor with me. "Honey, you're okay."

"Mom?" Sam said, her eyes clearing and focusing.

"Yes, baby. It's Mom. What happened? Why did you lock your bathroom door?"

She looked at her arms, despite the sleeves being over her hands.

"I didn't want you to see. I didn't want you to know," she said, and broke down into tears.