Drop Dead | Sam Fender

Chapter Twenty One

Aurora

"Where's the moody git?" Harlow asked as I threw myself on the sofa between her and Dean.

"Gan home," I mumbled, grasping the bottle out of Dean's hand and necking it back in one go.

"Oi, I was drinking that!" he protested.

"Shut up, Dean," Harlow hissed before returning her attention to me. "What d'ya mean he's gan home?"

"We fought, he went home," I grumbled.

"I'm gan kick his head in next time I see him," she growled.

"Can we just talk about something else? Please?" I mumbled. Today was meant to be a good day, especially for the boys. The last thing I wanted to do was bring the mood down.

Sam

"Fuck!" I cursed, clenching my fists as I kicked the wall beside me. I'd fucked up once again. It was like I had no filter. Forced to watch as I sent insult after insult hurtling from my mouth. I just couldn't stop myself, blinded by the anger and soon after realising my mistakes. Why couldn't she have let it be?

"Sam? That you?" my mam asked as I slammed the front door shut.

"Yeah!" I replied, storming upstairs before she could question my appearance. I hastily shut up my bedroom door and threw myself down on my bed, digging my phone from my pocket and pulling up my texts.

Good luck today, Sammy. Gonna smash it x

How did u do? x

They were texts that I had purposefully chosen to ignore like the shitty boyfriend I was. All she had done was try to support me and I had completely disregarded her as though she was a toy that a toddler had grown bored of. Her message stared back at me, taunting me. Should I message her? Yes, apologise for being a dick, I thought.

I'm sorry, Scarl. I shouldn't have snapped x

I read the words over and over again, my finger hovering over the send button before biting the bullet and pressing it. I quickly discarded the phone on my bed, a sick feeling settling in my stomach as I pictured Rory receiving the message. Would she reply? Or would she just ignore it? Like I did to her. It's the least I deserve for speaking to her the way I did. She was my biggest support system and I threw it back in her face as though it was nothing.

A loud rapping on my bedroom door snapped me from my thoughts. It was my mother. It was the only person it could possibly be. "Sam?"

"Go away," I told her, turning over so my back was to the door. I knew she would disregard my wishes and come in anyway.

"What're ya doing home so early?" she asked as she swung the door open. "I thought you were all gan 'round Harlow's."

"It's nowt, mam," I scoffed, not bothering to turn and look at her. I gritted my teeth and subdued the urge to roll my eyes as I felt my bed dip beside me.

"C'mon, now. I know ya better than that, Sam," she sighed as her hand reached up to stroke my hair. "Have you and Rory argued or sommat?"

"Me and Rory are fine. Will ya just leave us alone?" I huffed, shrugging her hand away.

"Ya know, I'm really not liking this attitude you're having with us lately," she told me softly, the springs of my bed bouncing back into place as she stood. I instantly felt awful. First Rory, now my mam? I heard her footsteps on the wooden flooring echo around the room as she neared the door, pausing before she left. I stayed silent. "When you're ready to talk to me, you know where I am."

I closed my eyes as I felt the familiar stinging of tears threatening to fall, anger flooding through my veins. It wasn't anger at my mam or Rory. It was anger at myself for snapping at another one of my loved ones. I never want them to feel upset and here I was doing all the work for them. I furiously swiped the tears before they even had a chance to fall, the familiar words of my dad echoing around my mind. Men don't cry.

Wordlessly, I curled myself into my duvet and shut my eyes, hoping to escape my problems through sleep, but my dreams were anything but peaceful that night. Instead, they were plagued with visions of Rory leaving, along with Dean, Tom, Harlow, my parents... All my loved ones really. It was a reoccurring nightmare I'd had for a long time now and with each little fight, I was petrified that it was that one step closer to coming true. Not that I would tell anyone anyway. No. That was a burden I would hold myself.

I woke up feeling as restless as I did yesterday. I tossed and turned for most of the night and when I finally managed to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, I was awoken by night terrors. Embarrassing at the grand old age of 16 really. Nightmares were something you grew out of when you were 8, not passing the halfway point of your teenage years.

I pulled myself out of bed and made my way downstairs, ready to face my mother after my poisonous words to her the night before. "Mam?"

"Kitchen," she replied quietly, which I found odd. I carefully made my way to the kitchen, finding her hunched over the island counter, clearly in pain.

"Mam," I spoke with worry, rushing over to her.

"I'm fine, Sam," she smiled weakly as she reached for a mug. "I'm just making a cuppa."

"I think not," I told her sternly, grabbing the mug from her grasp. "Go sit down, I'll make ya a cuppa." She sent me a soft smile, holding my face in her hand as she gently ran a thumb across my skin. I instantly felt a lot better, her presence just having that effect on me, bringing me the warmth and comfort that I desperately craved. "I'm sorry about last night."

"I know," she whispered as she took a seat at the kitchen table. I frowned as I watched her face scrunch up in pain, wishing that I could take it away. If I could swap with her, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn't. Only sit back and watch her torture, like a twisted TV show. I quickly made her a cup of tea, just as she liked it and placed it in front of her with her medication for her to take, seating myself opposite her. "What d'ya think you're doing?"

"I'm sitting down," I frowned.

"No, you're not," she scoffed, gesturing for me to get lost. "You've got some apologising to do."

"I've already told ya I'm sorry," I mumbled in confusion.

"Not to me, to Rory," she huffed.

"What-"

"Sam, I'm not daft. I know you and Rory have fallen oot. Just go and fix it," she told me. "That lass is the best thing that's ever happened to ya and if ya fuck it up, I'm gan kill ya."

"Reet," I agreed with wide eyes as I pushed the chair back and stood, making a beeline out of the door and to Rory's house.