Crash.
I hurry down the stairs, taking two at a time, my heart racing.
Bursting into the kitchen, my first thought is 'What happened?', yet one look at Mum's face tells me of all I should know.
Gasping from pain, her lips pursed, she is trying to wash off blood from her hand, that, despite her efforts, just won't wash away,
I squint at her for a moment until it actually gets me why that is happening. Taking a deep breathe to calm my thudding heart, I walk towards her, and then without uttering a single word, take a clean napkin and folding it around her hand, I press it hard and make her hold it in an upwards position.
The blood doesn't stop. Cursing under my breathe, I shake my head to stop the dizziness. 'Mum, Do something!', I say, though I don't know 'what' she should be doing.
Gently loosening my grip on her arm, she steps back and rushes into the bathroom, taking a towel with her. I just stand there, feeling like a scared kid who's seen blood for the first time in her life.
Kneeling down, I pick up the broken plates and dump them into the bin. Then, to avoid further drama, I roll my sleeves up and taking the liquid soap, start washing the dirty dishes.
All the while, my head is buzzing. Anger, like I have never experienced before, burst inside me. It's everywhere. Inside my head, inside my heart. I press my lips tight and try humming a childhood song to avoid thinking about it.
Yet, stubborn my mind is, the thoughts don't go away.
I'm tired. Drenched in sweat.
I've just had a long tiring day. Had a thirty minutes walk because I cant drive the damn car. Certainly, I wasn't hoping for this type of drama so early.
I almost want to stamp my feet and throw a tantrum like a kid and complain 'Why me?'.
Yet, the anger inside me isn't bubbling because of that. I like helping my Mum. It's not everyday that I get a chance to do something for her. But all the same, the anger stays.
Because I know. I know it so well, I'm a little surprised that I'm still struggling because of it. It's just a cut, she'll say.
She won't let me make fuss. She'll act all tough and try not to wince in fornt of me, as if it's a crime to do so.
I clench my teeth. I'm not tough. I'm not okay with her pretending. As far as I can tell, that is one reason why all my little problems have such a heavy weight on my heart. Why every little single thing hurts like a sharp knife.
Because my dear Mother doesn't let me make fuss of her. Because she pretends and I'm not allowed to find out about the dark side of her.
I heave an angry sigh and place the last cleaned cup on the rack. Drying my hand on the kitchen towel, I hum louder, trying to shut down my mind.
How wrong I am to think that that might ever work.
She comes back, wearing a clean shirt over baggy light blue pants. Her hair are tied up in a messy bun, and her face is still pale. Yet, the deep scar on her right hand is all that speaks of the pain she had gone through.
Deep red, it's five inches long, and very deep. Avoiding eye contract, she searches for something to cover it up.
After what seems like ages, she finally finds a thin piece of cloth, that doesn't look too weird, wrapped around her hand.
'You should be more careful Mum'.
She looks at me and I can tell, that a lot is going on her mind. However, she shrugs the thoughts away and smiles.
'Yup. Diffidently'.
I frown, 'How exactly did it happen?'. I tuck some damp strands of hair behind my ear, 'I mean, you can't just have broken a dozen places because you weren't paying attention'.
She leans back on the door, 'You banged the door too loudly. I was sort of daydreaming and I just,' She looks around, as if searching for words, 'I jumped, and the plates fell from my hands'.
'It's fine', she adds quickly, noticing my disguised expression. 'I'm alright. Truly'.
I take a deep breathe, 'No, you're not. God, I'm so sorry'. I close my eyes and try to ignore the sinking feeling in my heart, 'I had a bad day, I was angry. It was not fair of me to bang the door that way'.
'I did banged it on purpose', I add, as she opens her mouth to defend me.
Shaking my head, I take a step towards her, 'It was my fault. God, I feel so horrible'.
She doesn't say anything. She reaches out for me and I steps forward to let her hug me.
It's silly. Stop defending me. Stop fussing over me. I'm not a baby anymore.
She inhales my secant, tightening her grip on me.
Please stop doing it. Stop pretending. Don't push me away. I'm so sorry.
A tear leaks out of my eye.
Why? Why do you do it? Why are you this way?
I step away and kiss her on her forehead.
'I won't do that again, Okay?'.
She shakes her head, 'You were angry. You had a bad day. You had to take it out'.
I almost smile, 'Funny how you don't'.
She doesn't say anything. Wiping the sweat from my forehead with her soft hand, she kisses me. Again and again. Until I'm giggling like the ten years old me. And she's laughing too.
Heaving a sigh, she leans her forehead against mine, listening to my breathing.
'You've got such a silly Mama, Sarah'.
I smile, 'And you've got a silly daughter'.
'We make a good pair', she grins.
I open my mouth to say something, but the door bell rings loudly, cutting me off.
Frowning, I make my way to the door.
'Sarah', Mum calls out for me, 'Please don't frown don't way'.
I groan deeply, before taking a deep breathe and fixing my expression.
It's Sam. I blink a couple of times, because I can't really believe my eyes. He gives me a hopeful smile, 'Oh hey'.
I slam the door on his face. A peek from the window shows me his surprised face. Rolling my eyes, I ignore the constant 'Diiing doong', and turn to walk away, just as Mum hurries in the room, frowning.
'You told me not to frown that way'.
She ignores me. 'Why aren't you answering the door?'.
I hide my annoyance, 'Because it's Sam, trying to work out a stupid excuse to tell me'.
'And you're not gonna hear him out?'.
'Nope'.
She heaves a sigh, 'You're stubborn Sarah'.
I shrug, before making my way out of the hallway. The door opens. I stop, despite my anger, to hear what's he's about to say.
'Er, she's not very happy with me huh?'.
That's his words. No 'Hey or Hello'. It's 'Sarah'.
I've started to feel like a spoiled kid who makes too much trouble, and everyone around her gets stuck in fixing things up for her.
Mum shakes her head, 'What exactly did you do this time?'.
Her lips twitch a little. I can feel mine twitching too. Sam, however, don't find it funny.
'Don't you dare laugh', he groans, just as she burts off laughing.
'You're telling me', she rolls her eyes, 'You two fight like silly kids and then take things too seriously. You seriously expect me to me all grim and take sides?'.
Not exactly. But you can start by trying to control your laughter.
He turns suddenly, his eyes bore into mine. I turn around quickly, but, too late.
'Hey you'. He makes his way towards me, and honestly, I do feel silly now. Getting caught eavesdropping on my best friend, whom I had planned not to talk to, isn't very neat. Is it?
I fix a frown and folding my arms, turn to face him.
He looks like the Sam I met when I was a kid. His face has changed, but his grin has remained the same, and his eyes mischievous.
He's not grinning now though. His mouth is a thin line and his eyes aren't sparkling like a kid's. He looks older than ever, a grownup.
I want to giggle at the very thought, yet one look at his serious face stops me. Pursing me lips to avoid any risks, I raise an eyebrow, and he rolls his eyes.
'Stop acting like that, Sarah. It's not cool'. His voice is all weird. I can't understand it.
You're kidding me, right?
I shake my head, 'Is that all you want to say, or are you done?'. I step back, 'What do you want?'.
'I want my best friend back. She's gone, I don't know', He raises his hand in mock irritation.
'Why are you doing this?' His eyes bore into mine, soft and deep. 'Why are you pushing everyone away?'.
I don't break eye contract, 'I'm not pushing anyone away. It's people, who keep leaving me'.
'People like you', I add.
He frowns, 'Please don't compare me with Meg, She was a fake', His throat tightens, 'And you knew it'.
I shake my head, 'We've talked about this before, and frankly, I don't want to do it all over again'.
'What about me?'.
I purse my lips, 'What about you?'.
'You're just going to block me out of your life?'.
I stare at him, 'And what good are you in it?'
His eyes darken, 'At least I'm trying!'.
'Well, thank you for trying then, But sorry, I don't need your help'. I heave a sigh, 'Just leave me alone okay?'.
'No'.
I roll my eyes, 'You're damn stubborn'.
'So are you'.
I ignore him and try to walk away. But he blocks my path.
'What's happened with you? Why have you become like this?'.
'I don't know!'.
'Yes, you do', He grabs my hand. I try to wrench it away, but his grip is tight.
'You've become grey. You don't smile, you don't talk. You just shut everyone out and try to hind yourself in your misery, and then you blame others for it'.
'Let go of my hand!'.
'No', he shakes his head, 'Please, just tell me for once, Why?'.
I glare at him. My insides hurt. 'I said let go of my hand'.
'Tell me'. He brushes heavy strands of hair from my face. Groaning, I push his hand away.
'I'm hurting'.
They come out. Those two simple words. How heavy my heart has been, to hold them in, deep down, far away, where nobody would notice. And now he hears them, the guy who's about to leave me in this hell, alone.
His expression softens. 'Why?'.
I stare at him, bleary eyed. 'You know'.
'Did you talk with her?'.
'She doesn't understand. She just don't'.
He embraces me. I try pushing him away, but his arm around me are firm. Gentle, but firm.
'You felt alone?'.
I close my eyes, and nod. 'Life used to be good. She made it good. She was always there for me. Always'.
Hot tears stream down my cheeks, 'But it's horrible now. School, everything. Every time I try and reach out for her, she pushes me away. She hides herself from me. As if it's a sin. Look at me Sam', I push him away.
'Look at what I've become. I've destroyed myself. She's destroying me. Look at my life. We're destroying it'. My eyes feel hot. My heart aches. I reach out for him, 'Look at what have become of my life. It's nothing. I've become nothing'.
My whole body is numb, yet my heart feels as if it's on fire. My eyes are heavy. I just want to fall asleep and never wake up. But I can't. I'm alive, I'm not dying. This hurt won't go away.
He strokes my hair softly, his breathe warm against my ear. 'I wish I could make everything alright'.
I smile softly, 'And now you're leaving me too'.
His eyes widen in surprise, and that just makes me smile more, though the ache in my heart doesn't go away.
'I'm scared of losing people Sam. And I've lost everyone'.
He smiles, 'You'll never lose me. Whenever I may be, I'll always be yours. In here'. He points at my heart.
'Mum's right. We are silly'. I chuckle, wiping my eyes.
He laughs softly, 'I don't mind. I like it this way'.
I grab both his hands and press them tight, 'I don't want to lose you. You're all I have'.
He leans his forehead against mine, 'You'll be fine. One day. Just wait and see'.
I shake my head but he cuts me off, 'I'll come and visit. As much as I can. You won't be alone'.
I feel little. I feel like the little Sarah who used to be scared of the dark. Who cried when her best friend changed his five letter name.
'Promise?'.
'Always'.