Separian - Book 1

Chapter 6

Sarah's disappearance was a mystery. To everyone in my house. I still wasn't allowed to go back to school yet, but according to my friends in the drama club and chorus, she'd dropped out of half the extra curricular activities she was involved in -all the ones I'd been involved in with her- removed her name from any and all postings around the school, and rotated her entire class schedule. I didn't understand her last action, but if I had to guess, I'd say it was to avoid catching me in the hallways as much as possible.

I ignored her request and immediately dialed her family the moment I knew she was far enough away from my house and not quite home yet. My mother fought with me to keep me in bed, as did my father and brother, but I pushed through all of them and retrieved the phone in the kitchen. They all stood back and listened quietly. My brother and father were slightly alarmed at how easily I'd moved through the both of them in my state.

Sarah's father answered, "She's already left then?" He'd been expecting my call, it seemed. When I went on to ask why she'd reacted so harshly, he responded the same way she had. "I'm sorry Noah, but I'm going to have to ask that you not call this house anymore. These are my daughter's wishes and while I may not understand them, I know she would not ask it without thinking it through thoroughly." He sighed once, "I'm very sorry, Noah. For what it's worth, I don't agree with her." Another break of silence. "Take care of yourself." And with that, he hung up the phone.

My family wasn't sure if they should try to comfort me or stay their distance. After overpowering my brother and my father in my confusion to try and reach her, ignoring their requests to have me put down the phone, I could understand why. I'd ignore the need to keep myself contained. I could have potentially injured someone in my family just to make that phone call. Just to find out what was wrong with Sarah. Now I was angry with her. For forcing me to react so harshly.

I locked myself away in my room for the remainder of that night and sat at the foot of my bed. I wasn't tired, I wasn't sad, and after a certain point I wasn't even angry. I bottled everything I was feeling; rage, depression, confusion, and used it as a fuel to keep myself from moving. It wasn't difficult. Containing my emotional state and refusing to show it was something I'd become more than proficient at. And since I'd let my emotions slip once on my family already, I didn't deliberate the choice for long.

The next morning, I made sure I apologized to everyone in my family, setting aside a minimum five minutes for everyone involved, an hour for each of my parents. My brother left the house earlier that morning for drill practice before I could get to him. His wife, Tiffany, promised me that she would relay the message the next time she spoke with him.

My mother offered her shoulder, as did my father. They understood why I'd reacted that way. Given the gravity of all that happened yesterday, they agreed not to punish me for it. I'd just lost my best friend and I didn't even know how or why. They knew I was hurting, even if I didn't show it, and I assume they understood the magnitude of my pain because they told me I wasn't to go back to school until I'd calmed down a bit. That was over three days ago.

The doctor came the day after what I can only refer to as 'The Incident' and checked me over one last time before determining he no longer needed to visit. I was perfectly fine. He and my parents all seemed to be overly focused on my arm and midsection when I spoke. It didn't take a scientist to know they'd seen what I'd been marked with and wanted to question me about it, but found it more prudent to save their curiosity until such time as I was mentally stable again. My mother I could understand but the choice to say nothing didn't fit my father at all. He'd obviously lost an intense battle with my mother over it.

Today was day four, post-incident. Days two and three passed by very slowly. Very quietly. I spent the majority of the days in my room, lying in bed and controlling my breathing. It wasn't much of a coping method but it certainly made for a long and uneventful day. And what medicine worked better for the heart than time?