Sam and Colby: The Penitentiary

7

The house was empty when I went in. I couldn't hear anyone inside and all of the lights were off, the house flooded with natural daylight. I could hear muffled screams and laughter from the backyard. I wondered if Colby was out there.

                I decided to go upstairs and pick a room to stay in. I made my way down the hallway, stopping outside of what used to be me and Colby's room. I peeked in through the open door to see the room empty of people, the light off. I slowly walked in, peering around. It was strangely clean, the closet missing half of Colby's clothes and most of his shoes. The bed was also made, which was something Colby never did. The picture of him and me that he kept on his nightstand was also gone. Was Colby even here? Had he left? Just like I did? Did I drive him away from his friends, from our family?

                I left the room, closing the door behind me. I didn't want to look in that empty room. That room was my favorite part about living in this house. Getting to sleep next to Colby every night and wake up with him, getting to share something so personal with him was something that meant a lot to me. But I guess I'd given up that opportunity when I said no to marrying him. Saying no was probably the most difficult thing I'd ever done.

                I had tried to tell Colby that I needed to go back home, but he insisted that I let him say something first. If I'd known that the something was him asking me to marry him, I would have cut him off and told him I needed to go back home. But honestly, even if my dad hadn't been sick, I'm not sure I could have said yes. It's not that I didn't want to marry him. I really did, actually. But not yet. I guess I didn't mind the idea of getting engaged right now, so long as it could stay like that for at least a year or two before we even started to plan the idea of actually having a wedding and getting married.

                Whatever. He wasn't even here. Or at least not living in our... in his room anymore. I walked down to the end of the hallway to the furthest guest room. There were three of them, two at one end of the hall and the other at the end I was on. I walked inside and flicked on the light, revealing the mostly empty room. There was a bed and a nightstand with an attached bathroom, but not much else. I walked into the bathroom and stared at myself for a minute.

                "Okay, let's do this. It's okay," I whispered to myself. I kicked off my Birks and took off my dress, revealing the blue bikini I was wearing underneath. I ran my hand through my hair a couple times and readjusted the white sunglasses I had perched on my nose that matched the John Deere hat I decided I'd keep on.

                I realized I hadn't really, truly looked at myself these past few months. I looked different. Really different. I'd lost some weight. A lot of weight, actually. At least 15 pounds, which was a lot for someone who was already pretty petite and thin like I was. My hair was different too, much darker than the last time everyone had seen me. It had grown back out to about the length it'd been before it was unevenly chopped off in the house and then trimmed in the hospital after. I also now had a silver nose hoop and a bellybutton piercing. My hands didn't have their usual long acrylics on them, my nails short and uneven from all of the work I'd been doing on the farm. There were callouses that had developed along my palms from gripping four wheeler handles and guns every day, as well as carrying giant buckets of food back and forth between different goat pens.

                I pulled on my white and grey flannel over my swimsuit, then flipped my hat backward.

                "Alright, let's go," I sighed. I left the bathroom and flicked off the light, then went out to the hallway and shut the guest room's door behind me. With every step I took, I felt myself slowing down with anxiety and reluctance. Did they want to see me? Did they hate me? Hell, I'd probably hate me if I were them.