Sam didn't know where he was, or how long he had been lost for.
The city street was scarily empty; not a person or animal or zombie hinted at civilization. Nothing but cold brick houses and empty cars that sat like dead cockroaches. It was as if everyone knew to stay away. It was so empty, everything so still, Sam wondered if he was still alive.
His brain felt empty and void. His entire body was numb. He could barely pay attention to putting one foot in front of the other.
It was cold, the wind biting into his cheeks and pricking his nose. Snow had started to fall, little white flakes sticking to his coat and melting into his hair. The sidewalk was icy and Sam kept losing his footing; boots sliding frantically on the slippery surface.
Sam's deep hot rage had quickly wavered and melted into depression. All of his anger had dissipated and had left emptiness in its wake.
Eventually, Sam stopped walking altogether. He sat down on the spot, the cold ice melting into his bottom. He folded his legs and pressed his forehead against his knees and held back tears. His head throbbed in time with his heart. Every second that passed, it seemed to go slower and slower.
He was a piece of shit. Less than that. He wasn't anything anymore. Sam couldn't bear to think about his friends. The shock and betrayal that shone in their eyes. The things he had shouted bounced around in his head, louder than ever, free from the box he had shoved himself into. Where he had trapped his emotions and plastered on a silly grin and a dumb personality and everyone thought everything was normal, when nothing about Sam would ever be normal. That's the way things were.
And now he had lost his mind, and now he had lost his only friends left in the world, and now he was alone.
He would die like this, empty and broken. Without anyone knowing who he really was, how he really felt.
Sam heard nothing except his own shallow breaths. He was going to die, he knew. Everything in his life before this moment flickered away, seeming dumb and pointless. Monotone school days, fake friends, the aching cavern of silence between him and his family, all leading up to this deep certainty that he was going to die.
He thought about Tyanna. This girl he had cared about since God knows when. Probably dead. All of them dead.
He thought about Brendan. His best friend. Even his best friend didn't know who Sam really was. Even his best friend was too far away to reach for help. Gone. Lost in his saturated past.
Night fell and Sam didn't move. The temperature dropped and Sam didn't feel it. The snow came harder and then stopped all at once, and Sam didn't notice. Sam didn't know if he fell asleep. He didn't care. He sat unmoving until tears stopped running and froze on his cheeks. He waited patiently for it to be over. He wondered, if he told himself to die strongly enough, if his body would listen to his pleas and just give up. Realize it has nothing to live for.
Sam's body lost feeling. He was colder than he thought possible. He knew he should be feeling pain, but Sam's mind was too far gone.
"Hey."
A voice echoed in the back of his mind.
"Hey Sam, get up."
Sam looked up and saw long dirty hair and a tight expression. A hand gripped a bloody shoulder and crimson stained a bandaged leg. In the morning light, her eyes looked unnaturally deep brown.
He tried to speak but his voice didn't work.
Is this what happens when you die? He said with his mind. He reached out to her with his eyes. Are you here to take me somewhere?
