Listen Before You Speak

Chapter 26

Life does not always work out the way that you want it to work out. Life is not easy. Life is cruel and unfair. Life will take everything away from you in mere moments after you thought you were happy.

There is no such thing as happiness. There is no such thing as a purpose to your life, unless of course there is some sad excuse for a god out there laughing at your sorrows.

I have often wondered what if we were all just characters in a book that someone wrote, and he was just randomly picking off characters and killing them, just to see what we would do about it. Just to amuse himself. Or maybe to bring some drama into the story he was writing. And I wonder sometimes what I would do if I had to meet him face to face.

Would I kill him instantly for everything that he had put me through in my life? Would I demand that he rewrite my story and bring certain things back that he so savagely tore away from me? Would I even trust him enough to do a rewrite without me standing there dictating whilst holding a gun to his temple?

I don't know what I would do, but I can tell that whatever was to happen, it would not be a friendly meeting. He has hurt me too much and way to often for me to take pity on his soul.

"What are you writing kiddo?"

I looked up to see Mr. van Leer standing in the bedroom door. It had been two days. Two long excruciating days since I saw Blake. Days in which I did not go back, because Mr. van Leer and Llaluna decided that it would not be good for me to say goodbye to Blake over and over again, although he was still holding on for dear life, probably waiting for me to come and say goodbye again like I promised him.

"Just stuff," I answered, looking back at the page in front of me, but it was too late. My concentration was already lost and there was nothing that I could do about it now. He probably meant well by checking in on me.

"What's your name?" I asked without looking at him, realizing that I had no idea what his name was.

"Sam," he answered, and took it as an invite to come and sit on the bed where I was still laying on my stomach hoping to write in my journal. I closed it quickly. Not wanting him to see what was inside.

"Sam... That's a cool name," I said, watching him as his eyes moved from mine to the journal I had closed.

"Emotional Amnesia," he read the words I carved out on the cover. "Is it a novel you're working on?"

I raised an eyebrow, although he probably could not see it under my fringe. Did this guy not have enough books in his house without another author writing one for him to buy?

"No."

"Just a journal then?" Sam asked, pressing for more information than I was giving him, and although I did not really want to answer I did feel like I owed him. Even if it was just a little bit and even if I didn't ask to be in this situation in the first place.

"Something like that. Poems mostly," I replied, hoping that we could leave it at that. That he would get out and leave me to myself. The only time that I wanted to actually see him was if he had news from Blake.

"Will you read me one?" he asked. "Of your poems I mean," he hastily added when he saw my face which much have been screwed up in a twist.

Nobody had ever asked me to read them one of my poems before. But then again. Almost nobody knew that I wrote poems at all. Except for Blake. Well, he didn't really know bit he knew that I had a journal that I do write stuff in.

"Okay," I said, surprising myself. Maybe I agreed because nobody had ever asked me? Maybe there was some part of me that desperately wanted to share what was going on in my mind with somebody else?