L o u i s a
"Fires are meant to burn us, fights are meant to warn us. We could lose it all if we don't reignite this." Sparks Fly, Hey Violet
I need to tell you this.
Please, just let me tell you this.
And then I promise
I'm gone for good.
*
I wasn't there when the doctors finished whatever it is they were doing to Sam to patch him up. Instead, I was at home, taking a shower and a nap. I wasn't by his side. But, I guess, it doesn't really matter anyway, considering the doctors gave him some sleeping drug before he could wake up from his unconscious state.
I knock softly on his ward door, hearing someone say," Come in," before pushing the door open.
"Hello, Mrs Mitchell," I greet as I enter the room.
"Hi, Louisa. It's so nice of you to visit again. You know, you're the only friend of Sam's who has actually visited so regularly."
"Really?" I ask, slightly shocked.
She nods. "I'm afraid so. Francesca dropped over once and that's about it."
Is he really that alone?
I feel a stab of regret, shame and loneliness gnawing in my chest. I wish Sam didn't have to go through all this. I wish he had more friends to support him through this trying time.
I watch as Mrs Mitchell look at her son with sorrowful eyes, almost like she's mourning over his death rather than watching over his sleeping body. I should apologise. She deserves at least that from me.
"Mrs Mitchell?" I start.
"Yes, hun?"
Those two words felt like a slice to my heart. That's what my mother used to call me. Way before she met Troy and went downhill, completely transformed from the mother I used to know. To me, my mother is as good as dead since they met.
It's amazing how much the negative influence the wrong person can have on you.
"I'm sorry," I say softly, my eyes wandering to Sam's lifeless body.
She chuckles. "Whatever are you sorry for, Louisa? Accidents happen all the time. It's not your fault. I'm sure he would agree, if he cares for you as much as I think he does."
My heart skips a beat. How does Mrs Mitchell know about how he feels about me?
"I can see the way you look at him, Louisa. You don't have to hide it from me."
"But how do you know how he feels?" I ask quietly, my voice breaking.
"It's just a hunch," she replies, looking at me warmly and lovingly.
Her kind words and the way she talks to me broke something inside of me, and tears start streaming endlessly down my cheeks.
Sam is so lucky to have such a loving mother. I can barely remember the time my own mum even cared about me. That time seems like an eternity away, my memories of them so hazy that it's almost like they never existed.
I've forgotten how it feels like to have a parent who cares.
"Shh," she coos, standing up and walking towards me, pulling me into a hug, caressing the top of my head. "Don't worry. Everything will be alright." She pauses. "I assume there's more to this than just Sam. You can tell me."
I shake my head. "No. It's fine. It's nothing to worry about."
There's no need to burden anyone else with my problems.
"I know you don't know me very well, and it may not be comfortable talking to a stranger, but please, hun, don't keep it all in, okay?"
"Okay," I mutter, pulling away from her embrace.
"Here," she tells me, grabbing a bunch of tissues and passing them to me.
I force a smile through my tears, wiping my eyes. "Thank you."
"It's nothing, dear. I'm going to head out and grab something to eat. Do you want anything?"
"I'm good, Mrs Mitchell. Thanks for asking." I pause. "And for being here."
"It's my pleasure. I'll leave you two alone," she says, leaving the room.
I take the chair Mrs Mitchell was sitting on and place it beside the bed, taking a seat, gazing at Sam's resting face. He seems so at peace, so painless, like he's just taking a much needed rest instead of having just been in an accident.
I wonder how he feels, if he can hear me, if he knows I'm here.
"Hey, Sam," I whisper. "How are you holding up?"
I don't even know what we are, or where we stand. I don't know if I can stay. Whether the accident was my fault or not, Sam is just going to be another collateral damage if I continue to be around him and this just proves it.
I've got to let go of him, before I'm in too deep, before it's too late.
I know I've told myself that countless of times already but I can't - I shouldn't - let this keep up. I really have to walk away this time. Summer is ending and Sam is here in the hospital. He has more things to worry about than just another summer fling.
He has his own life and I have mine.
Our paths crossing this summer was a mistake.
But I felt it. I felt it, alright. The spark between us. It's completely unlike what I've ever experienced. It's amazing, spectacular, magical even. But I let my heart dictate my actions, let emotions cloud my judgement.
Maybe a love like this is what I need to heal, to become whole again, but I don't think this is the right time or place for it. Maybe I've met the right person - I'll never know - but it's at a completely wrong time.
I'm not ready. I hardly think he is either.
I'd be lying if I said I regret anything that happened between us this summer. If anything, I want more of it. If anything, I regret not making a move sooner. I was scared and afraid, lost and confused, I felt small and alone, but it kept me from making a greater mistake. It kept me from becoming even closer to him than I am now, if we are even anything at all.
Fear is what keeps us in check. Loneliness is what keeps us at bay.
When we are alone, we remember how important it is to be selfless, to not bother anyone with personal problems and failures. Everyone is better off without me.
I know that now.
"I hope you're doing fine. The last few days for me hasn't been very eventful. I spent most of my days here, with you. I feel like I owe you at least that much," I say, my lips quivering.
I need to tell him. I need to tell him I'm leaving. But I don't even know if he's listening.
I've talked to Ria and asked if we could head back home early, instead of at the end of this month, like I initially planned. She said she planned on heading back at the end of next week anyway so I decided to follow her back, since she has the car and all.
I take in a huge breath of air. "I have to go soon. On Sunday. Next Sunday. I don't know if you will get better by then. I don't know if I will get to say goodbye."
I chew on my bottom lip, clenching my fists nervously. I'm not sure why I'm feeling so anxious, considering Sam is not even awake to say anything.
I reach for his hand under the blanket and hold it with both of mine, so gently, as if it would break if I pressed any harder.
"I'm so sorry, Sam," I mutter, my voice cracking. "I'm sorry but I have to go."
I know that, deep down, I'm still hoping that our paths will cross, that he will wake up and that he will find me and stop me from going, from walking out of his life.
But I'm not that important to him. I can't be. We've just met. He barely even knows me. I'm sure he has other commitments to attend to, other more pressing matters. I'm just a nobody.
If I don't do this, I'm scared I will cave in and reach out to him or vice versa if he's released from the hospital before I leave. At least, this way, I'm not the only one who's staying away. Maybe if both of us are more aware of the reality of the situation, it won't be as hard to stay away, to walk away.
I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out a white, crumpled envelope with his name written in cursive on the front and place it by his bedside table.
I'm a coward. Yes, I know that. I will never dare to say aloud what I have penned down in that letter. It's hard enough giving him the letter. I rewrote it so many times, forcing myself to give it to him and not to throw it away.
He has the right to know how I feel.
What Mrs Mitchell said is true. It's time to stop bottling it all in and start telling people. If only it were that easy. I'm only doing this because I have to. Sam opened up to me, told me what was tying him down. It's time to do the same.
I'm not as brave or as ready to tell him in person. But he needs to know. I need to let him know.
"Goodbye, Sam."
I stand up just as the door swings open, revealing Mrs Mitchell holding a paper bag in one hand and a paper cup in the other.
"You're leaving already?"
I nod. "I'm afraid so, Mrs Mitchell. I have other things I have to attend to."
"Alright. Have a great day, Louisa," she replies understandingly, a warm smile on her face.
"You too, Mrs Mitchell," I answer. "Goodbye."
I exit the ward, feeling a stray tear roll down my cheek, refusing to turn around. I can't let her see me like this. I can't let anyone see me like this. It's time to put the mask back on.
Letting my facade fall around Sam felt like the right thing to do but, once again, I let my emotions cloud my judgement. Removing my mask is not going to help anyone. If anything, it's going to ruin everyone in my path like a tsunami and I can't let myself do that.
But am I making a mistake of letting go of Sam?
As much as I wish it were otherwise, I know, logically and reasonably, that this is the right decision. It's necessary, it's what must be done.
Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made.
Sometimes, walking away only choice we have left.
___
A/N: Awwww what's going to happen to LouSam (I really need to think of a better ship name ahha. Any ideas? Post them in the comments below) now? Do you think Sam will let Lou just walk away like that or will he try to chase after her? :(
And yes, I'm updating two days in a row! It's cause I forgot that I promised three parts a week. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this!
If this gets 10 votes, I'll update earlier. If not, see you on Wednesday!