Love Complicates Everything
Chapter 14
It was raining, or maybe it was just the tears running down my face. I bent down and placed flowers at the grave of a girl I only knew for a couple of days.
Actually, i couldn't even really say that I knew her.
It was only after she was stabbed, only after she died that I found out the real her.
She was orphaned at a young age, dropped out of school when she was 15, and spent the rest of her life between jobs and struggling with drugs.
And now her life ended so tragically.
The police gave me the only thing that she had on her when she died, her purse.
Inside was a brown paper bag, stapled closed.
The police didn't open it, but instead gave it to me, her closest friend.
I opened it to see a small bag of different colored substances.
Drugs.
I thought about trying them.
I was going to try them anyways before she died, and I was curious. In my life I've heard so many things about drugs.
Good, bad.
Which one was it?
They looked pretty harmless to me.
Like sugar.
Sweet?
I'll never know unless I try it.
Should I?
Our tour ended soon and we all went back home. I hadn't tried the drugs yet but I still have them, waiting for the right chance.
Home life hadn't changed at all. Including the counseling session with Dr. Park. When we weren't on tour I still went there often.
But I didn't mind anymore. I was used to going by now, and comfortable around her. She was like an aunt or something. I knew that I could confide in her and that she wouldn't be able to tell anyone anything.
But I actually didn't really want to go.
I knew that she probably wanted to talk about the death of Samara, and I wasn't ready for that yet. I felt as if it was my fault that she was killed.
Most people would say to me "she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."
But I know that it was my fault that she left the hotel, crying.
It's my fault that the last moments of her life were filled with pain and misery. If she hadn't met me, then she would still be alive.
Does that count as killing someone? I feel like a murderer.
Will the pain ever stop?
When I went to see Lilian, we had a nice chat. Lilian is Dr. Parks' first name.
She told me that I could wait until I was ready to talk. But she also told me that the sooner I talk about it, the better. She said that I should't keep things bottled up inside of me.
But other then that serious note, we had a pleasent conversation.
Lilian really was a nice woman, and a lot has changed over the years.
We even chatted over a cup of tea and a platter of cookies that I baked yesterday (well, it's not like there is much to do when we're not touring. I think that she liked them, because she asked for a recipe).
But she knew me too well to know that it wasn't just Samaras' death effecting me.
"What else is wrong, honey?"
I shrugged.
"Nothing! I'm fine, just mourning the death of a good friend!"
But that wasn't entirely true.
There was still another thing on my mind: Tom.
With all that's been going on, we haven't had a chance to talk about what happened, but we both know that what we felt that night was real.
"Tom, we need to talk," I said to him.
"About what?"
"About last week at the hotel...the night when..."
I couldn't finish but I knew that he understood what I was talking about.
"Oh...that."
"Yeah."
"Well, what's there to talk about? You were drunk, you did something stupid, it happens to everybody."
"Ok one: I wasn't even that drunk. Two: are you telling me that you felt nothing when I kissed you? It's not like you tried to pull back or anything!"
He shrugged.
"Well, you know me! I'll do anything for a little bit of action. I just closed my eyes and pretended that you were Heidi Klum."
"What?"
Tears were starting to fall from my eyes. Why was he always trying to break my heart?
I smacked him.
"Tom, you are an asshole! You didn't used to be like this, why did you change?"
I ran to my room, shut the door, and cried. But then, when I thought about it, there was no point in crying.
But what was there to do...?
Drugs...?
Actually, i couldn't even really say that I knew her.
It was only after she was stabbed, only after she died that I found out the real her.
She was orphaned at a young age, dropped out of school when she was 15, and spent the rest of her life between jobs and struggling with drugs.
And now her life ended so tragically.
The police gave me the only thing that she had on her when she died, her purse.
Inside was a brown paper bag, stapled closed.
The police didn't open it, but instead gave it to me, her closest friend.
I opened it to see a small bag of different colored substances.
Drugs.
I thought about trying them.
I was going to try them anyways before she died, and I was curious. In my life I've heard so many things about drugs.
Good, bad.
Which one was it?
They looked pretty harmless to me.
Like sugar.
Sweet?
I'll never know unless I try it.
Should I?
Our tour ended soon and we all went back home. I hadn't tried the drugs yet but I still have them, waiting for the right chance.
Home life hadn't changed at all. Including the counseling session with Dr. Park. When we weren't on tour I still went there often.
But I didn't mind anymore. I was used to going by now, and comfortable around her. She was like an aunt or something. I knew that I could confide in her and that she wouldn't be able to tell anyone anything.
But I actually didn't really want to go.
I knew that she probably wanted to talk about the death of Samara, and I wasn't ready for that yet. I felt as if it was my fault that she was killed.
Most people would say to me "she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."
But I know that it was my fault that she left the hotel, crying.
It's my fault that the last moments of her life were filled with pain and misery. If she hadn't met me, then she would still be alive.
Does that count as killing someone? I feel like a murderer.
Will the pain ever stop?
When I went to see Lilian, we had a nice chat. Lilian is Dr. Parks' first name.
She told me that I could wait until I was ready to talk. But she also told me that the sooner I talk about it, the better. She said that I should't keep things bottled up inside of me.
But other then that serious note, we had a pleasent conversation.
Lilian really was a nice woman, and a lot has changed over the years.
We even chatted over a cup of tea and a platter of cookies that I baked yesterday (well, it's not like there is much to do when we're not touring. I think that she liked them, because she asked for a recipe).
But she knew me too well to know that it wasn't just Samaras' death effecting me.
"What else is wrong, honey?"
I shrugged.
"Nothing! I'm fine, just mourning the death of a good friend!"
But that wasn't entirely true.
There was still another thing on my mind: Tom.
With all that's been going on, we haven't had a chance to talk about what happened, but we both know that what we felt that night was real.
"Tom, we need to talk," I said to him.
"About what?"
"About last week at the hotel...the night when..."
I couldn't finish but I knew that he understood what I was talking about.
"Oh...that."
"Yeah."
"Well, what's there to talk about? You were drunk, you did something stupid, it happens to everybody."
"Ok one: I wasn't even that drunk. Two: are you telling me that you felt nothing when I kissed you? It's not like you tried to pull back or anything!"
He shrugged.
"Well, you know me! I'll do anything for a little bit of action. I just closed my eyes and pretended that you were Heidi Klum."
"What?"
Tears were starting to fall from my eyes. Why was he always trying to break my heart?
I smacked him.
"Tom, you are an asshole! You didn't used to be like this, why did you change?"
I ran to my room, shut the door, and cried. But then, when I thought about it, there was no point in crying.
But what was there to do...?
Drugs...?