Beneath The Surface

Imani

My room is quiet, too quiet, amplifying the noise in my head. I try to shake it off, but the pressure in my chest is unbearable, like I'm drowning in memories I can't escape.

I glance at the door, then at the bathroom. My steps are slow, hesitant. By the time I close the door behind me, I’m already choking back a sob. I sit on the cold tiles, pulling my knees to my chest.

"Why am I like this? Why can’t I stop feeling like I’m falling apart?"

The thoughts race, relentless. I glance up at the razor on the sink’s edge, my heart pounding. For a moment, I hesitate. But the noise in my head grows louder, and I can’t think.

I reach for it with trembling hands, my breath hitching. My mind blanks as I press it to my skin. A sharp sting pulls me out of my thoughts, and the chaos inside dulls. It’s fleeting—so fleeting it leaves me emptier than before.

I drop the razor, my chest heaving with sobs. Guilt rushes in, heavy and suffocating. What am I doing? I grab the first-aid kit from under the sink and bandage the wound, my hands shaky. The shame weighs on me like a second skin.

"You can’t keep doing this," I tell myself, but I know the words are hollow.

I wash my face, trying to erase any evidence of my breakdown. By the time I walk back into my room, I’ve shoved everything deep down, where it can’t touch me for now. I need to pull myself together.

Downstairs, the smell of coffee and fresh toast fills the air, warm and inviting. For a moment, I hesitate, wishing I could avoid the world just a little longer. But my mom’s voice carries from the living room, and I can hear someone else with her.

Curiosity tugs at me, and I step into the room. My cousin, Imani, is sitting on the couch, laughing at something Mom said. Her smile is as radiant as ever, her polished confidence filling the space effortlessly.

“Samara! Good morning!” Imani says, jumping up to hug me. Her embrace is warm, but I stiffen, caught off guard.

“Morning,” I mumble, stepping back quickly.

“Imani’s here for a while,” Mom says, setting a plate of toast on the table. “She got a job in Boston, so she’ll be staying with us while she gets settled.”

I freeze, panic rising in my chest. “Staying here?”

“Yes, isn’t that wonderful?” Mom’s smile is too wide, too hopeful.

I force a nod, avoiding Imani’s curious gaze. My mind races. What if she notices the bandages? What if she asks about Natalie or mentions Dad?

Imani beams. “I’m so excited to be here, Sam. It’ll be just like old times.”

I smile tightly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, great.”

The breakfast conversation flows easily between Mom and Imani, but I barely eat, pushing the food around my plate. My thoughts are a tangled mess, my discomfort growing with every minute.

After a while, Mum glances at me. “Sam, what’s wrong? You’ve barely said a word.”

I shake my head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just tired.”

“Maybe you’re not used to the company,” Mum says lightly. “But I’m sure you’ll warm up to having Imani around.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I blurt out, the words sharper than I intended.

Mom frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I just—” I pause, searching for the right words. “I don’t think it’s necessary for her to stay here. She can figure something else out.”