Wanted By Death

2 Insidious Susurrus

[warning: triggering content in this chapter.]

Rose

Love is an expression that I scarcely use, which would make it inconsequential. Predominantly, love is a complexity, but ultimately inevitable. When it comes to Sam, I know the exact epitome. He's my friend, and probably the only friend that I require. Samuel has been anorexic for two years now and he declines aid from everyone; everyone excluding myself.
          Times when he refuses to eat, I'm fastidious to always motivate him to consume the foods that he needed. Its a slow affair, not exactly the easiest task, but capriciousness appears steadily.
          The month of January (last year) that introduced Sam and I together was probably when we were both at our worst in life. Samuel could barely hold down his foods without wanting to purge, and I could barely go a day without slicing a cold-sharp blade through the sensitive skin on my body. What we had was each other, and the power of our friendship saved us from complete destruction of our person.
          Friendship is something that I value immensely. I've had a fair amount of friends back in my freshman year, everything quickly changed in a flash, like the speed of light. A mundane life gyrates into a tragic loss as accolade made its way to my adversity. Due to perfidiousness, the comers of my school denunciated my actions of self-harm. Ne'er did I do it for attention, I was a hedonist for that rationale. My once friends now disregard me, and the times we had laughed uncontrollably until milk was spilling out of our noses was vanished. It were the best of times that always had to come to an end. Sam is my only, but I'm not living for him. Living for someone is a bigger deed than dying for someone, and I don't perceive myself with a commitment so substantial.
          At this point in life, I don't know what It is that I'm doing. Hope is on strings as we speak about the strings that hope is tied too. But can hope be enough? What is ever enough to fulfil a broken blood-pumping organ? When feelings connect with those they mustn't have feelings for is a mammoth predicament.
          My questions remain undetermined. What do I want? What do I need? Should I just give up? Should I have hope? Will everything be worth it in the end? What am I waiting for? WHAT AM I DOING?
          I'm drowning in my frustration. Every question that surfaces my mind—takes a toll on my patience, and that exclusively causes my hands to shake, my mind to quake, and my body to break. Breaking into a million particles, not even science can figure out the nucleus of my existence. Breaking into a million more problems, that not even mathematics can solve. Scientific principles and mathematic concepts are a bleak of average studies in comparison to the problems, challenges, obstacles and torture in my life.
Differentiation aside, I hate both subjects.
          Or wait; maybe I just need to stay forbearing for a little while longer. Maybe there's colour waiting on the other side of this tunnel.
          "Ann Mary, I'm leaving with your father to New York for a business trip. There's money on the counter. Don't call, we'll be busy." My mother speaks rapidly with equanimity and class before closing the door without hearing my say. Father seeming deep in excogitation, appears out of his bedroom shortly after, taking a wary glance my way.
          "Sweetheart, have a good day at school." He flashes a quick smile before heading off to their work ambience. 
          "Yeah I'll be fine, thanks mom and dad." I mutter under my breath before arranging my own breakfast before the start of yet another day of school. My phone buzzes and I quickly look over the messages that I've received from Sam.

Sam the Man: Hey Rose, I'm not coming to school today.

Sam the Man: on bed rest.

Sam the Man: sorry ):

I sigh heavily as I bring up my trembling hand to run through my black hair stressfully. Well today won't be pleasant for me, but I shan't worry Samuel.