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I wasn't okay. My condition, or illness, had gotten worse over time. I hadn't made any progression and I couldn't tell if it was my fault.
Sam had continued to tell me that I would make a breakthrough soon, it only takes patience and patience is what I had lacked in.
I thought we were to safe. There wasn't any noise, it was too quiet and that's what scared me. I believed that we were running out of time, something was bound to happen and there was this gut feeling that it wasn't going to be good.
I stared at the cards in front of me, Sam smirking at his own deck. I couldn't remember the game we were playing nor did I understand it from the beginning but I didn't want to be stuck in my room alone.
After the events of their betrayal, no one trusted me to be alone or with Sam, yet he was still here. I stared at my cards, placing them in number order which soothed my eyes from the painful disorder they were in. I placed a random card on top of the pile, ignoring what number it was. He chuckled to himself as he held the card in his hand.
"Do you even know what we are playing?"
I shook my head, putting the cards face up on the table. Sam refused to look at the cards until they were turned over, he had been persistent on winning the game fairly. I ignored his plead, standing from the wooden table. He turned to me, his hysterical smile turning into a frown.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, fixing his posture in the blue seat. I neglected his question, staring at the floor beneath me, picking the dirt from underneath my outgrown nails. He asked again, this time with more passion in his voice.
Everything was wrong. He didn't see that playing cards would make me forget everything that is happening around me. I couldn't pretend to avoid the situation at hand, I had already done that long enough. I tried to deceive myself and it didn't work and I knew that it would happen.
"That's just rude" Lucius taunted in a weird voice, laughing at himself. "I thought I taught you better-" I cut him off by throwing the closest object at the wall, Not caring what is was. Sam jumped at the object, running to my aide.
The ironic part was that I wasn't scared of him anymore, terror didn't run through my veins when he appeared in my image of reality, it was anger. I wanted to kill him. I had a right to kill him - 548 people had a right to want to kill the sick son of a bitch who ruined lives and planned to ruin more.
"El, talk to me, what's wrong?" Sam pressed on, sitting down next to me. His presence made me feel warm, protected yet at the same time scared that something would happen to him and I didn't want that on my conscience.
I removed his hand from my leg, walking to the door, opening it for his convenience.
Sam sighed, scratching his neck. "You know I can't leave you alone." He could. He just didn't want too. "I know you're still mad and you have every right to be but you're going to forgive me, I know you will." He wasn't wrong.
