Beneath The Surface

Caught Off Guard

As I enter my room, the weight of the day presses on me like a relentless storm. I close the door behind me and take a deep breath, trying to silence the chaos within. I fumble to wipe away my tears, then open my eyes to see Amari's intense gaze, as if she’s been waiting for this moment.

"Are you okay?" Amari's concerned voice slices through the heavy air.

I nod, my throat tight.

Amari walks towards me. "Liam called and asked if you had reached safely and if you're okay."

I roll my eyes, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips. "Oh, how thoughtful of him. Like he really cares."

"He does, Sam. What happened?" Amari inquires, a mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes.

I sigh. "I'm okay, Amari. I just want to sleep."

"Weren't you supposed to be sleeping over at Liam's?"

I grimace. "Stacy happened. Liam didn’t think it would hurt me because, apparently, I’m just a selfish person who wants him to myself."

Amari's eyebrows shoot up. "He said that?"

A bitter smile plays on my lips. "No, he didn’t have to say it. I understood everything."

Amari, sensing my distress, softens her tone. "Talk to me, Sam."

"I just want to go to bed, Amari, please."

"Sure, goodnight, Sam." With a lingering gaze, Amari leaves me alone with the weight of shattered expectations.

Lying in bed, grappling with the emotional aftermath of our conversation, I feel the weight of Liam’s indifference to my feelings. The room seems to close in on me as memories of the evening loop endlessly. Staring at the ceiling, I wonder whether Liam really cares about me or not.

In the midst of this emotional turmoil, a vivid recollection surfaces—images of Natalie’s demise, the haunting scene of her drowning at the beach. The ache of my current situation intensifies as I confront not only the complexities of my own relationships but also the haunting specter of loss, leaving me submerged in a sea of conflicting emotions.

The next morning, a soft knock on my door signals Stacy’s arrival. "Samara, can we talk?"

I hesitate before opening the door, still nursing the wounds from our previous encounter. "What do you want, Stacy?"

She enters cautiously, concern etched on her face. "I came to check on you. You didn’t seem okay last night. Are you okay now?"

I scoff, bitterness in my tone. "Oh, spare me, Stacy. Your concern is about as genuine as a plastic smile."

Stacy’s eyes well up. "Sorry, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say."

I glare at her, frustration boiling over. "Well, congratulations. You succeeded."

Stacy, with a confused expression, asks, "What are you saying, Samara?"

"You know exactly what I’m saying, Stacy. Don’t act so innocent—the fact that you keep coming between Liam and me. You seem hell-bent on ruining everything for me," I say.

Her eyes widen with surprise. "What? That’s so absurd. Why would you think I want Liam?"

"Oh, please," I retort, my patience wearing thin. "Just leave, Stacy, and stay as far away from me as you can."

Hurt and confused, Stacy leaves without another word. As the door closes behind her, I stand firm in my decision. I don’t regret confronting Stacy; in fact, a sense of satisfaction lingers. The weight of my accusatory words hangs heavily, but the desire for clarity and honesty outweighs any remorse for speaking my mind. Now, with the room to myself, I prepare to face Liam and untangle the web of misunderstandings that have strained our relationship.