The Impact

Trying to Survive

________________________________________

Chapter 2: Trying to survive

________________________________________

'But question is, where do you go? When the only place you ever considered home is gone? When the only arms where you felt comfort, are no longer there? How do you manage? How do you breathe?'

Another week after I had cried and tried to get over my feelings I was finally back to school. Though I wasn't in mood of eating anything so early in the morning, and I had my good suspicions that it had to do something with Sam. Me and food had been inseparable but now it felt like I was drifting away from everything and everyone I loved, as if Sam was the glue keeping me and my likes together and now that the glue was gone, all the bits had somehow flown away.

I brush my brunette hair that reaches down to my back. Despite almost all my friends envying it I hated it now. I hated everything about myself. My sort of cheeky pink face was now pale and slim from the starving and crying of two weeks. My eyes probably looked too big for my now-slim face and they were extra puffy from crying. My lip, slightly parted had moved from a light pink to a faded one and the dark circles under my eyes were just too prominent. As a whole, I concluded, I looked like a walking dead. Suddenly pompous of my not-very-pretty appearance I make my way to school. I don't even bother to see my parents, yelling a goodbye and slamming the door hard behind me. My bag seemed much heavier than usual and I guessed it was due to my appetite. I hadn't failed to realize that I was acting like Sam but I wasn't going to get that to me. No, in honor of my dead best friend I was going to bring a revolution, a change in myself. I'll turn myself into Sam but I won't kill myself. I have heard the dead can see us and I'm going to make myself suffer just so that she can get a good show. Feeling contented like a two year old in her favorite amusement park with enough rides I walk into school.

As soon as I step into the building I hear whispers, probably because people think that crying for two weeks straight can easily deafen a person and that is not true. Idiots, they are so dump. I give out a sarcastic laugh which makes even those who were oblivious to my presence turn around to look at me. The points and whispers increase and so does the size of my devilish smile. I don't care if they judge me, hadn't that been what they did to Sam? Hadn't that been their fault? Weren't they murderers.

One of them actually makes an effort of skipping over to me, like literally skipping (I mean, how old was she? Sam was so mature). Her blonde pony tail is bouncing behind her and her smile is fixed. As soon as she comes up to me she says hi and then changes her expression from the smile to pity.

"Are you okay?" she asks, pity obviously clouding her vision. Can't she see that I am perfectly fine? Can't she see that I am okay with being alone?

"Listen miss-I-don't-know-the-name-of" I started looking her right in the eyes which was scary for her given how pale my eyes looked, "I don't need your pity and you can stop skipping around like a two year old. Not everybody needs your help, now move it" I say almost importunately.

She gasps a little and then moves away without a word. In usual days if I made this sort of comment to a beauty Barbie I would be bossed around, humiliated because I wasn't one of their popular pretty group. This pissed me of even more, pity. Is this what they think I needed? No, Sam didn't even accept help from her best friend and if I was going to be her than I needed to accept help from no one and no one includes my family, teachers and the idiots that litter the hallways of the school. But I wasn't going to be mute like Sam, I'll reply, fight for myself , I'll answer back the teachers and I'll be rude. I won't be a gift to this earth because I don't deserve to be. Someone who can't even save their best friend's life doesn't deserve to be anything.

I make my way to my first class with which my luck happens to be Math. I slump in my seat and slam my books on the desk just as the teacher walks in. I can see he opens his mouth to remind me of manners in class and all that garbage but closes it before uttering a word. Sam and I were the most obvious, joint to the hip best friends and even the teachers knew it. I roll my eyes at the sympathy I'm getting and look the teacher in the eye.

"What?" I practically yell causing the entire class to look at me surprised, "I noticed that gesture Mr. Richard and I don't need that pity. You could continue barking at students for bending to pick up an eraser and I know you insulted Sam because she got a B in your stupid test, YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A MURDERER AND DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO SYMPATHIZE WITH ME" I see him open and close his mouth like a fish out of water, Mr. Richard unable to answer a student, this would be a story for centuries.

Half way through the class and still all the eyes were on me. These physcos just couldn't get enough could they? I manage to keep a straight face on but then all of a sudden I feel like screaming, I don't know what has taken over me, but I feel suffocated and when I think I couldn't take it anymore, I make my way out of the class and to the washroom. Not even bothering to ask for permission I dart though the hallways and enter the empty washroom, swinging the door open. I stand in front of one of the mirrors and support myself by leaning against the base of the hand basin. A single tear streaks down my cheek and I take a deep breath, staring hard at my reflection to take my mind of the thoughts going around in my mind. When nothing else works, I give up and fall to the ground. The wall behind me to lean on, I cry out again wondering if it's even possible to have any tears left. Without a minute of wasting sobs reduce my body to rubble and I curl up into a ball on the washroom floor. My thoughts are all on Sam and everything that has happened in the past few weeks. My perfect life thrown into a hurricane that twisted and threw it away, giving me back a piece of shattered illusion demanding me call if my life.

It would be an understatement to say that I miss Sam and it would be an understatement to say that what I'm doing is wrong. But against all odds, I can't help it and it makes me feel better that after Sam there is still trace of her. I just can't help it if the trace of her is in me and I don't think the world can either. Failing to register the sound of the bell for the class ringing, I keep on crying. If anyone does come they won't dare to touch me. I've told the school enough in one day, possibly less than that.

Maybe due to the stress, or the excessive crying and the starvation thing I soon black out before seeing this blurred figure of Sam standing in front of me.