Oh Ms Believer

43. Samantha

I don't want to talk to Doc. I don't want to tell him it's my fault Kyle killed Blaine and the others. I don't want to tell him that it hurts. That I should be dead. Not Blaine. Not Parker. Not Eric. Not Ashley. Not Taylor and not Mr. Atwell. None of them deserved to die. But I did. Because I tutored Kyle, and he came and killed them. But it should have been me.

Mom brought Doc up to my room.

"Hey, Samantha," he said, sitting on my desk chair while I lay under the covers on my bed. "Your mom says you're not doing so well."

I tried to keep the tears from coming to my eyes.

Mom left us, and Doc looked at me.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Samantha, I can tell by looking at you that you aren't doing well. Something is going on. You're not talking to people. Your friends and family are worried. Your mom says you've received texts and calls and you're not returning them. She told me you're not eating well and that when you do, you're throwing it up. You know that for someone like you, that isn't good."

For someone like me. He means for a murderer.  I don't deserve to eat. I'm supposed to be dead.

Hot tears welled in my eyes, which I wiped away with my blanket. Doc sighed.

"You know. Four years ago, you didn't want to talk to me much, either. But you eventually did. Would you like your mom to come back in? Would that help you talk?"

I shook my head.

"Okay. Then you're going to have to talk to me. I can make a few inferences. I'm guessing that this all might have something to do with the shooting last summer. Am I close?"

More tears. I nodded. Why lie? He'll figure out the truth eventually.

"I see. You've dealt with a lot of trauma in your young life. This is certainly beyond something anyone would expect to deal with. You've been seeing me twice a week since you got back from your dad's summer tour. I knew we weren't progressing as you normally do, but Samantha, this isn't like you. You're not progressing at all. Even in our sessions you weren't very forthcoming. You know everyone cares very deeply for you. Everyone can see you're hurting and they want nothing more than to help you. But you have to let us in so we can get you the help you need.  I'm going to ask you a difficult question and I want you to be honest with me. Because the rules in my office count here, too. Okay?"

I nodded.

"Your mom says you've been hurting yourself. Have you been?"

I nodded. And closed my eyes. I didn't want to see Doc's reaction. 

"Can I see your arms?" He asked. With my eyes closed, I pulled my sleeves up and put them out of my covers.

"Sam," Doc said, holding my arm.  "Look at me, please."

I opened my eyes as fresh tears filled them. I looked at Doc.

"I know you know this is very serious. I know you know you're not doing well. But I want you to know, I can help you. But you have to talk to me. I'm not a mind reader. I don't know what you're thinking. So you're going to have to let me know what we're dealing with."

"It's my fault," I said, quietly. I didn't want to say it too loud.

"What was that?" Doc asked.

"It's my fault," I said a little louder, more tears flowing. How do I have so many?

"What's your fault?"

"What Kyle did. It's my fault he failed math. It's my fault he got kicked off the baseball team and it's my fault my friends died. I should have been the one who died. Not Blaine. He died protecting me. He shouldn't have. Because it was my fault Kyle shot them all."

Doc was quiet and stared at me. I knew he'd be calling the police any second now to report me. I started crying harder. I don't want to go to jail, but I deserve it. Well, really I should be dead.

"Samantha," he said, taking his hand off my arm and taking my hand.  "Samantha. It was not your fault."

"I tutored him and he still failed math. I tutored him and let him tell me he understood. I tutored him and he failed. Which means I failed. I failed him. And then he got kicked off the baseball team. And then he came to school and killed my friends. But he should have killed me. Because I'm the one who failed him. Not Ashley or Eric or Blaine or Taylor or Parker. And not even Mr. Atwell."

"Samantha, you are not responsible for the actions of others. I know you well enough that you would not have done a lax job tutoring Kyle. I know how you work and I know how well you can explain things. What Kyle did was not your fault."

"But it is. It was. He should have killed me."

"Samantha, do you want to kill yourself?"

I was quiet. Yes. No. I don't know. I don't deserve to be alive anymore, but I'm too scared to do it myself. 

I said as much to Doc.

He closed his eyes. He was giving up on me. I can't blame him. I would, too.

"Samantha, you know I will never give up on you," he said. As if reading my mind, which he just said he couldn't do.  "And neither will your parents or your friends. But what you've said is very serious. It's telling me we are at a point where you aren't able to cope on your own. And that's okay. It's okay to need help. Will you let me help you?"

I shrugged. Why would he even want to bother helping me?  I'm useless. I'm a murderer. I got my friends killed.

"Samantha, I'm going to tell you what I think. I know it won't make you happy, but I think you need some very intensive therapy. Therapy I can't provide in just my office or at your house.  I'm going to talk to your mom. Samantha, I am suggesting inpatient treatment."

More hot tears. It was finally happening. 

I was getting sent away.