Samantha

chapter 23

The small bedlamp did not illuminate my room completely,
but I was always satisfied with it's soft glow.
I remembered staying up late reading on my bed,
the curtains fully drawn because I couldn't bear the sliver of street lights that would sometimes creep their way into my room.
That same room seemed oddly foreign now.
I could see cobwebs around the lamp,
and my bed seemed to be covered in a layer of dust.
I could also see the stranger -For that's exactly what Samantha was,
even if I didn't want to admit it out loud- sitting beside it,
her left hand firmly wrapped around the small gun.
I scarcely wondered if perhaps I was still asleep somewhere in my prison cell,
and everything that had transpired the last couple of minutes was nothing more than a mere dream.
Perhaps I was simply a lot more inebriated,
than I first thought possible.
I shook my head trying to clear my mind,
but when I opened my eyes Samantha was clearly still there.
That same placid smile stuck on her face.

"Sit down Zack."

She gestured toward the bed,
Slightly gripping the gun tighter.
I didn't feel like sitting down,
but I was not about to argue about my personal preferences,
with a girl that was quite possibly deranged,
and almost certainly not joking.
I walked across the room,
and a thin layer of dust rose up as my weight sank onto the bed.

"Samantha wh-."

She held up a hand cutting me off,
demanding silence.

"Let me go first Zack.
I know you're wondering what I'm doing here,
and you probably hate me.
You have every right to."

"You left me."
I snapped.

"You walked away when I needed you the most,
and then you let me rot in prison".

"I didn't exactly let you rot."
Samantha answered calmly.

"It's not like I could just waltz right on in,
and visit you whenever I wanted.
Trust me,
I had to fight the urge multiple times".

"And why is that Samantha?"
I asked.

"Why did you run?
Why couldn't you just stand by me and tell the police the truth?
I trusted you Samantha.
But I only realized afterwards that I knew absolutely nothing about you.
Is Samantha even your real name?"

Samantha shook her head sadly.

"No,
I'm sorry but it's not."

I scoffed.

"And to think I felt sorry for you,
after my brother started using violence,
I wanted nothing more than to protect you,
to know you,
to . . .".

My voice trailed off.

Back then I wanted to love her so much it made my heart ache.
When we first kissed it felt as if my whole life had led to that exact moment,
and I would have liked nothing more than to believe that our love wasn't doomed,
despite the obvious futility of the thought.