redamancy // l.h au

twelve

I turned the knob of Charlotte and I's apartment, expecting Char to be standing in the foyer. I anticipated her to be tapping her freshly pedicure-d foot with her arms crossed, shaking her head at me, disapprovingly.

Instead, I find Sam. He's sprawled across the couch, watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians on E! with his head turned sideways to the television set.  His eyes snap to my direction when I shut the door.

I pull my shoes off as he exclaims, jumping up, "Tell me everything,"

"Everything?" I ask, assuming Char told him I had been sick the night before. "I hate to admit it, Sam. But it's a little too gross for your liking."

"Shut up, it probably isn't. Tell me."

"Uh. Okay. Well, first, I threw up—"

Sam interrupted me, gasping, "Oh, my goodness. I didn't know Luke was into that."

My eyes widened, "Samuel! I was sick!

"That, too? Man, he must really like you." A mischievous smirk played on my best friends lips and I shoved him back down onto the couch, where he collapsed.

"How mad is Char?" I ask, taking a seat on the floor in front of the couch.

"I calmed her down." He sighed, tilting his head at me. "Why didn't you call me when you had the attack last night?"

"How did you—" My eyebrows furrowed and my mouth dried up.

"Blondie told me." Sam said, simply. He studied me for a bit before explaining himself, "That boy knew I'd kill him if he didn't tell me." I said nothing; staring at the screen of the TV. I tried paying attention to what the Kardashian sisters were complaining about, but my mind couldn't focus.

"Is this why your keeping yourself from him?" Sam asks, quietly. I turn to him and he's looking at me; almost examining the expression in my face change, as if he was looking for a reaction. My face stayed blank as he continued, "You're afraid he won't accept your anxiety disorder. You're terrified."

"It's not a disorder." I say, firmly. I turn my body towards the boy, "It was the first time Dad was away from me for so long, so what? It happened a lot when he left. That's it."

"It happened last night."

"Fluke." I argue, "Anyway. No. I'm not afraid." I wanted to tell him about the pills I had found, but it wasn't my place.

"Rhea, stop it."

"Stop what, Sam?"

"Stop fucking acting like nothing can hurt you because it does. And it kills me to see you like this." My mouth dropped open. Sam hardly ever swore. I felt his tone cut through my facade like blades.

Before I could even blink, he continues, "You deny. That's your defensive mechanism. You pretend everything is okay and put everyone's lives ahead of yours."

"You won't stop running." He says, after a deep breath.

I find my voice at the back of my throat. It comes out low and quiet. "You won't stop chasing."

"Who's going to do it, then, Rhea? Got anyone in mind?" He says, raising his voice. "Why are you not okay with who you are? Why? It's so. . .frustrating to me. That you can't see yourself the way we all do. Why are you so ashamed?"

The crazy part was that I'd been asking myself the same questions every day.

I felt my eyes fill with tears. I didn't let them fall, though. I couldn't. "I'm s-sorry, Sam. I'm sorry." My breathing became uneven again, the world started to spin. I shut my eyes in fear of another episode when I felt Sam's arms wrap around me. "I'm sorry, I'm not a crier. I just—"