Just Let Me Be

Taking a deep breath, the young woman sat on the cold, hard tiled floor with her back pressed against the porcelain tub. Her breathing wasn’t steady, no; it was jagged and fast as she let the feeling of nausea coarse through her body making her feel like she was going to up heave any second. The young woman didn‘t know how long she had been sitting there, the only thing that changed from the time she walked into the bathroom to then was the silts in her wrist and the numbing pain that was slowly making its way from those wounds to the rest of her aching body.

Despite the warm California rays that beamed through the small bathroom window, the young woman sat there shaking. Her body temperature slowly released all the warmth it held leaving her with cold skin and numbing pain; a perfect way to die. Looking down at her tattered wrist that was caused by her own razor, the young woman saw it drenched in blood. Too much blood. It leaked out and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. Her closed fist, now covered in blood, dripped the excess onto the titled floor forming a small, red puddle.

A content sigh escaped past her thin, pink lips; the air escaping through the parted skin and muscle as she let all the oxygen in her body depart into the small room. Her body was becoming more weak as the minutes passed on. Leaning so her head rested on the cream colored wall, she let the metal blade in her uninjured hand drop to the ground with a ‘clink’, making it land in the small pool of blood.

Her time was coming, death was finally approaching her; something she greatly wanted and needed to save her from herself. The young woman’s eyes grew heavy, they drooped and fluttered closed as she became blind to the world, unable to open her eyes ever again.

With the new found blindness, the young woman breathed in and listened closely to the sounds around her. She knew he would be back any minute with a pout and a apology ready for as soon as he came through the front door. As if on cue, she heard the familiar sound of his many keys jingling outside their apartment door and his voice call out.

Remaining silent, the young woman listened as her boyfriend set the items from the Quick-Mart down onto the table and come towards the bathroom door.

“Baby, are you in there?“ he spoke loudly as he softly knocked with his first two knuckles. When he received no answer from the young woman reality seemed to come crashing into him and his soft knocking turned into rapid and hard banging of his fist and upper body.

“Baby, open this door; open this fucking door now!”

The young woman cracked a small, strained smile as she took her last and final breath before whispering her final words: “I love you James but, just let me be.”

~

Samantha Dayford sat uneasily next to her boyfriend in the small, white room. The only thing occupying her mind was the hand that rested on her small, swollen stomach and how it slowly moved back and forth while also going up and down. The door in the disinfected room slowly opened and a small knock enabled from it. The doctor, in all her glory, stood there in her white lab coat as she held a grim smile; a smile neither of them wanted to see.

“I have some bad news…” the doctor trailed off as she slowly made her way into the hospital room and closed the door behind herself. Standing in front of the couple with petty in her eyes, the doctor moved the plastic chair so it was in front of the young couple. “I’m sorry Miss. Dayford but…”

With an irritated intake of breath, Samantha’s boyfriend spat out: “Dammit, just spit it the fuck out.”

Smacking his thigh, Samantha gave her boyfriend a warning glance before giving the doctor a small, apologetic smile and ushering her to continue. “As I was saying, Miss. Dayford when we were reviewing the tests we came across…well, we came across cancer.”

The atmosphere in the room grew tense, Doctor Cohen’s head was bowed while Samantha’s head was pressed tightly against her boyfriend’s chest as he tried to sooth her by running his hand through her short, platinum blonde hair. Tears leaked from her eyes as she sniffled into his shirt and tried to calm herself. Pulling away after a good four minutes, Samantha wiped the mascara that leaked from under her eyes and asked softly, “What about my baby? Is my baby okay?”

With a solemn expression, Doctor Cohen, too, raised her head and wiped under her chocolate brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Samantha but she didn‘t make it.”

--

No matter how badly she wanted it to stop, it didn’t. The sun still continued to rise and set and the earth still spun in endless circles around the blazing, giant star that resided in the Milky Way galaxy. The pain that she felt everyday wasn’t from the cancer that was slowly spreading through out her whole body, no of course not, it was from losing the only thing that could have made her sane; Farah Lee Sullivan.

Mourning over her own daughter was the only thing Samantha was allowed to do the past three weeks. Never coming in contact with anyone but her boyfriend slowly made her feel like she was losing any grip on sanity she had--or maybe it was the lack of proper medication. Seeing the same few walls and watching the same shows gave her no hope that everything was going to be okay.

The creaking of the loose floor board in the hallway brought the young, distressed woman out of her inner thoughts. Wiping the few tears that fell from her porcelain eyes, she sniffled and through blurry eyes saw Jimmy standing there with a grim expression; the only expression she could make out now since all her other happier memories were forced to be isolated into the depths of her mind.

“Well, I-I’m going out, Sam,” he said curtly as he played distractedly with his promise ring that hung loosely around his neck.

Pleadingly, Samantha looked up at Jimmy and said quietly, “Can I please come? I-I haven’t been able to go outside in weeks, Jimmy.”

Sighing, Jimmy tightened his grip on the silver doorknob and exhaled shakily. “Sam, I think it’s best if you stay here…Rest and everything, yah know?”

Shaking her head, making parts of her blonde hair fall from its bun, Samantha angrily stood up from the couch, her sadness and sorrow quickly disappearing, and shouted, “No Jimmy, I don’t know. Please elaborate on why I can’t just get the fuck out of this house! Every time I make an effort to leave you…seduce me to stay and after it‘s over you totally blow me off! I’m so fucking sick of this Jimmy! You act like I’m some kind of petty inconvenience. No matter how much you think you are, you aren’t the boss of me! I can make my own fucking decision, Sullivan!”

A hurt look passed over Jimmy’s facial features before he covered it up with a solemn expression. “Sam, I’m sorry you feel that way but I’m doing what I think is best for you,” he sad weakly. His posture slouched as he opened the front door and tightened the black jumper that was around his upper body.

Tears falling freely from her eyes at this point, Samantha tried to wipe them away in hopes of them stopping. “But Jimmy, keeping me in a bubble isn’t going to help anything, the only thing it‘s going to do is drive me insane and further away from you.”

Casting his gaze away from his girlfriend, Jimmy’s shoulders hunched together in disappoint. He knew what he was doing was wrong, yet he felt the need to put her in this ‘bubble’ or whatever Samantha called it. He couldn’t help it; he just didn’t want to lose her too. Jimmy knew that his time with Samantha was limited since she refused the chemo and radiation treatments from the regrets of losing Farah, but she didn’t understand how this whole situation was affecting him. So by locking her up in apartment 305, Jimmy thought that would just keep safe and out of harms way.

Sighing, Jimmy knew he needed to get out of the apartment before he broke down in front of Samantha again. Mumbling a quick “I love you.” Jimmy quickly hightailed it out of there; his mind not even knowing where they were going.

--

“He just left?” Elizabeth Baker’s voice questioned from the other end of the phone.

Sighing, Samantha tossed the used tissue into the wastebasket before saying softly into the receiver, “Yeah, Liz. One minute we’re arguing the next he is just gone. I swear I could see the smoke that flamed up from how fast he was walking.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Elizabeth spooned another mouthful of ice cream into her awaiting mouth as she listened to both the Angels game and her best friend talking. “That’s…weird, Sam. It doesn’t sound like anything Jimmy would usually do,” Elizabeth said softly before muttering a curse as the apposing team gained a run.

“I know,” Samantha breathed into the phone, “I-I just wish he would hold me and whisper that everything was going to be okay, yah know? Now, I feel as if I would be better off dead.”

Dropping the spoonful of chocolate ice cream into the half empty cardboard carton, Elizabeth gripped tighter onto the cordless phone and muted the blaring television. “No you don’t Sami; please don’t ever say that.”

Sighing, Samantha ran a hand through her hair and gazed blankly at the white wall in front of her. Her mind running over what it would be like to die, to be with the ones she missed more than anything. “Elizabeth, I don’t kno-”

“But Samantha suicide is not the answer. It‘s never the answer,” Elizabeth hurriedly choked out, not even caring that she cut her off.

Breaking her gaze from the wall, Samantha ignored her best friends sniffles on the other end of the phone and her husband, Zacky’s, constant questioning on what was wrong. “Listen Liz, I’m gonna go…I have something to do,” she said quietly.

With one last sniffle, Elizabeth mumbled, “Alright, Sam. I-I love you.”

“I love you too, Elizabeth; stay safe.”

With a click of the phone, Samantha Dayford set it carelessly onto the sofa and got up and headed for the bathroom. Closing and locking the door behind her the only thing she could think was: You had the power to set me free, just let me be.