I Hate You More.

Chapter 1: Samira

It's over. All over. I might as well die too. There is no point in living in this cruel world anymore. I'm all alone now.

I fell to my knees on the hospital floor and sobbed, burying my head in my hands as my grandfather soothingly rubbed my back.

"It'll be okay, bacha. It was for the best. Hopefully they're in a better place now," he said softly.

"At least they could have taken me with them! Why did they leave me all alone?" I sobbed.

"Your parents did all they can to keep you happy. They wouldn't want you to be like this even in their absence," he said, trying to talk some sense into me. But I wasn't listening. I wasn't in the mood for sense right now. Grandpa could sense it. He took me home, and left me to mourn in my room while he too shed tears silently.

We were driving to Grandpa's house for the summer holidays, just like we do every year. This year was different though. It was my seventeenth birthday.

I thought it would be special. Memorable.

It was big alright. Just not the way I wanted.

We met with a car crash. Ma and Pa.... couldn't make it.

The thoughts kept looping in my mind, day after day. Grandpa tried to get me out of it, but it wasn't working. Everything around me, everything reminded me of them.

It's been a month now. School will start soon. I told Grandpa I don't want to go anymore. Screw high school and college. I need my parents.

"Bacha, you can't keep going on like this. Is this what your parents would want? For you to sit and stare at the ceiling and mourn for the rest of your life? They're looking down at you right now, you know. And I can tell you for sure that they are disappointed," he said, shaking his head.

I didn't respond. I never did. But I couldn't stop the lone tear rolling down my cheek.

Grandpa looked at me one final time before pressing his lips into a tight line, as if defeated.

"That's it bacha. I can't see you like this anymore. I'm going to do what your parents would've wanted me to do months ago."

My head whipped around to look at his serious face. What is he talking about?

"Your parents asked me to do this in case anything happens to them," Grandpa said, looking at me, dead serious.

"You're going to New York."

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I grudgingly stuffed my closet into the three suitcases laying on my bed. It's not like I even have a choice in the matter.

I thought Grandpa was joking. Well let me tell you something. He wasn't.

Apparently Pa had a really close friend in New York, a really big business man named Armaan Shah. I've heard of him before, even seen him in Forbes magazine. I never knew he was the best friend Armaan Pa always talked about. And now I was going to live with them. Yippee.

Grandpa didn't even let me speak. He said Armaan uncle is already on his way, and that I need to pack my bags in another hour. Our flight is tonight, a mere four hours away. And then I'll be leaving India. My home, my parents' memories, my grandpa, everything.

I don't know if I should feel happy or sad. I was feeling suffocated with all the memories of Ma and Pa, but now that I have to leave them, I don't want to.

"Ready bacha? Armaan is here," Grandpa said, opening my door.

I wiped the tears flowing down my cheek which I didn't notice till now, and zipped my last suitcase. I swung my backpack over my shoulder and looked at Grandpa. "I'm ready."

Grandpa nodded and led me outside into the foyer where Armaan Uncle stood. He wore a navy blue business suit, and he had salt and pepper hair with a slight beard. He reminded me of Pa.

"Samira, beta, how are you?" Armaan Uncle asked, opening his arms for a hug. I didn't say anything. I have never met this man before. This is my first time. But he reminded me of Pa. I ran into his arms and hugged him tight. Felt like Pa too.

"You okay?" he asked softly, stroking my hair. I couldn't speak. I simply nodded my head in his chest. I felt so safe and protected in Uncle's arms. So much like Pa.

"Come Samira, Suresh will get your bags. We'll drive to the airport. We're getting a little late, actually," Armaan Uncle said, letting me go and looking at his watch.

I nodded and looked at Grandpa. Grandpa and I were really close. Suddenly, I felt bad for avoiding him this past month. Now I won't be able to see him for a long time. Grandpa read my expression. He came over and hugged me as Armaan Uncle got into the car with his driver loading my bags into the back.

Before letting me get into the car, Grandpa whispered in my ear, "Don't be weak. Be the strong, confident girl your parents raised you to be. Hold your head up high, and stand up for yourself. You are a Patel. Prove your parents right. Be the girl they always wanted you to be."

Grandpa had said a lot of things like this in the past month, but this one hit me hard, because it's the last time he would speak to me in person for a long time. So I held my head up as I got up into the car. I'll make my parents proud.

I'm Samira Patel. I can get through this.