By the time we arrived at Sam's place, the rain had stopped after all our laughter. We were met by a new unfamiliar car and two persons standing outside his place. At first we thought they had mistaken the address but they were clearly looking at our direction as if they really recognize us. “Hi, can I help you?” Sam asked them both as soon as we stepped out of the car. The man and the woman approached us with a smile.
“We're looking for a Sinclair?” The man in the leather jacket spoke first. He was also wearing an old looking cap and his entire outfit seems to be old fashioned which made me think he might be in his 60s. However, his voice didn't sound old.
“That’s me.” I was mostly focused on my clothes not being completely dry yet.
“We're from the press and we want to talk to you about an upcoming piece on your story.” The middle-aged woman said standing next to him, dressed similarly but looking more refined. I started to realize they wanted to interview me about my life and I could tell that I'm not gonna like where this is going. Of course, with the use of social media, people's whispers anywhere the village and my tragic past that made these people get interested of my story.
“I think you should leave. This isn't the right time for her.” Sam answered when he noticed I wasn't going to respond. Perhaps because I never expected this to happen or I'm too surprised to say something.
“We didn't mean to abruptly come up to you guys. But if you ever change your mind, this is my card. Your story has the power to inspire countless individuals experiencing similar struggles, offering you a benefit as well.” The woman handed over a tiny card and Sam took it. “I’m Carol and this is my colleague Arthur. You too have a lovely night.” We watched the both of them get in the car and drive off with the sky growing dark again, indicating another heavy rain.
“Upcoming? Does that mean they're looking me up before they even met me?” I immediately put my bag and a few work items on the couch. I settled on the couch beginning to worry that I might be catching a cold.
“You don't have to talk to them.” Sam spoke from the kitchen while getting some dinner ready.
“But what if I do?” It's just a sudden thought.
Sam paused to give me a brief stare. “You really don't have to, Cari. In the end, the choice is yours regardless.”
“But you heard them, I could get my benefit from it which means they'll be paying me.”
“Is that a wise decision though?” Sam took a seat across from me, leaving the meal he was preparing for us. “I mean, everything about you, Cari. It's all gonna come out. Those people are the press and it's important for them to dig deeper. I don't want you to regret if you ever let them.”
I wouldn't argue that he's wrong. It's surprising that I even considered that. But I've changed now. I've been hidden for too long that I'm willing to take risks with this now. It's not the same anymore because now I see that I've got nothing to lose. But I can't shake the small doubt that they might be wrong about me being able to help people. What if they'll just say I'm crazy as people often do and I end being hurt again for letting them, as Sam would say. I've changed but I'm still the anxious person I always am.
Suddenly I found myself returned to the house where I grew up. An image of my Dad working on our house renovation comes to mind. I could see endless moments of him coming back and looking for me. He's yelling my name so forcefully right now that it causes a slightly pain in my head, and he won't stop until I get home.“You have to come home now.” I can hear his voice echo. It sent a sudden chill through my body, making my vision spin as I tried to stand from my seat. It gets worse when I began to pant, focusing on my steps as I struggled to move both legs. I sense a growing wind swirling around me.
“Cari, are you okay?” A voice echoed from nowhere, but my focus remained on escaping the strong wind and reaching my dad. It's too much and I can feel it's beginning to cause real pain. In the next few seconds everything seemed strange, my vision became sharp now, the dizziness also stopped and I'm puzzled about being here despite promising myself I wouldn't come back. The house was exactly as it used to be, with the furnitures almost in their proper places and the clutter everywhere is no surprise. Exactly the home I was always familiar with. This very day comes back to me now. This was the time that I was so mad at him for trying to get Aunt Fey to take me with her. “You don't care about me and most importantly, you don't care about yourself! I wish you were dead instead of her.”
His action drove me to lock myself in my room and think about hurting myself. He was going to allow someone to take me because he has finally surrendered in me. I was there inside my room, sobbing, still mourning and destroying everything I could see because I was so enraged. I started cutting my hair in a chaotic way however I want, I was consumed by dark thoughts until I broke the mirror with a scissor, revealing shattered pieces of glass. I took the sharp one and slowly pressed it against my skin. At first I didn't feel any pain because I was in doubt, I was scared and shaking, but eventually I harmed myself and the next thing I see is blood coming out. I cried so intensely that I felt myself shatter repeatedly just like when the doctor told me my Mother was gone. I quickly panicked and rushed out of my room to find Dad. I knew he'll still treat me even if he's absorbed in his own world.
I searched for him in the dining room hoping to see him with his beer but he wasn't anywhere downstairs. Finally when I entered his room, I saw water leaking on the floor coming from the bathroom and seeing the mess he caused made me even more frustrated. I went inside and suddenly found myself facing his lifeless body covered in blood in the bathtub. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't scream. I couldn't say something. I think I was still in shock that nothing else could ever shock me at this point anymore. I'm bleeding from my arms and the tub is filled with so much blood. I was entirely frozen. My heart was racing so fast that it felt like I could collapse at any minute. I felt like dying. I wanted to pass out, I couldn't endure seeing his body like that anymore, but it didn't happen at the time I had hoped and I knew it was torture. Just before any of this occurred I raised my voice at him and that realization began to tell me this is my fault. That I pushed him to do this. I slowly dropped to the floor and began screaming. I spent the entire ten minutes yelling at the top of my voice.
I woke up in the hospital with no memory of what I had witnessed. My head hurts but I couldn't remember a thing. Since then I believed my Dad came to comfort me in the hospital and took care of me. It was all in my head.
“I’m right here, Cari.” I was startled when I felt someone holding me. I notice Sam wrapping his arms around me while we're both on the floor. “Please tell me you're okay, I'm so worried that I almost—”
“It was my fault, Sam. I-I made him kill himself.” I burst into more tears grabbing his arm to cry on. “It’s my fault, Sam.”
“Listen to me, Cari. None of what happened is your fault, okay—”
“You don't understand! I should die for I did, okay? You could never understand because you've never had to see a loved one die before your eyes! I—” I quickly distanced myself from Sam, holding back from saying anything more. I turned to face him and realized I had hurt him. I shouldn't have said that right after he shared his childhood trauma with me. We're not very different from each other. “I-I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, we both need some rest. I'll take the dinner to your room.” He made his way to the kitchen to continue preparing our dinner. The living room is a mess. Pillows from the couch are now on the floor, along with various work papers cluttering the floor. “I’ll clean that all up. Go change, Cari.” I nodded and walked straight to the bedroom to cry, but this time silently. My psychiatrist suggested talking to someone would help, but now that person is obviously upset about what I said and despite feeling bad about it, I'm even more sorry for myself.
