Tuesday December 18th, 2012 - 8:10 A.M. Cortland, N.Y.
Above, darkened more than Samantha had ever seen before, was a mass of gray clouds. Their over encumbrance of frozen water threatened to drop, though she didn't care. She had already begun her jog off the campus driveway, towards Cortland, with her duffel bag weighing heavily on her, like her thoughts. She needed to be free; to be safe from the horrors of what went on hours before. Ever since grade school, jogging had become almost like a therapist to her. The burning sensation running deep into her legs; the way the perspiration ran down her, seemingly washing her every worry away.
The only word that came close to the happiness she felt at that moment was nothing more than bliss. For whenever her jogging shoes were laced and her Hip-Hop play list took over her soul, every single painful memory ceased to exist. Her attention was focused on the highway ahead. With four lanes, and multiple buildings on each side, it had always been beyond busy. Her self conscious thoughts were beginning to creep slowly into the back of her mind. She passed by a local lawn and garden shop to the right, closely followed by a pizza restaurant.
She wanted to stop right there and sprint towards that building. The taunting images of hot cheesy goodness were plastered across the main window. Deep in the pit of her stomach, it growled in protest to her hunger. Just when she thought, even for a split second that she'd grab a couple slices, her hands caressed her belly. The semi-thick layer of fat pinched between her fingers. No matter what she did, her self loathing mindset refused to check out. Her life wasn't always like this; she never truly picked up jogging, until a comment was made to her, by Lizzie.
Back in the sixth grade, she used to be chubby. Her growth spurt truly never kicked in until the age of fourteen, when her body weight finally equaled out. As if it were just the other day, Samantha could see that evil smile contorted into her enemy's face. Even the phrase that Lizzie said: "Look at you! You're so pleasantly… plump. I'm sure every guy's lining up to sleep with you, seeing as you got all of that they can grab onto." That. The way Lizzie annunciated the word infuriated her. Thankfully her parents turned her towards a healthier lifestyle.
She picked up jogging on that exact night, starting with the block surrounding her family's home. Over the years, the route expanded to a mile, then five. Whenever that sick feeling of hatred commences, she hit's the pavement and lets the physical pain be her escape. Before Samantha knew it, she had already passed by the stores, and was heading towards the Red Cross building down by an old factory. When the fuck did I start running again? She looked this way and that; her heart had nearly moved to her throat at this point. Straight ahead were rows upon rows of houses, ending at a four way intersection.
A gas station stood across the street from the Red Cross building, with a home resting on each side of her. A cooling sensation ran down her arm; she hadn't even realized her body was resting against the light post. Cold started to seep into her every pore; shivering commenced seconds later. Her arms had folded instinctively at a poor attempt of warming her skin. This always happened, especially after going through a tremendous amount of stress. She'd have the music taking her over, and her legs would keep pushing on.
There were times where she'd be off in the earliness of dawn, before the sun even came up and wouldn't be back until it hung straight overhead. Today was no different, except this time, Winter brought her immediately back to reality. Harsh winds blew by, whipping her hair all around, which stung on her freezing exterior. The crosswalk lights flashed as her tired body pressed across the street, past the brick building before her. Her house rested on the other side of the railroad tracks ahead.
The need to be in the comfort of her old home rose up, giving her a burst of heat. "Come on Sammie, you've got this. Remember, the house is the third one on the right," her own words of encouragement fueled the burning flames within. Both of her quads screamed at her, but she couldn't yield to them. Not when her house was so very close. She rushed by the rails, past a red barn-like garage, and two plain houses. There it was, that familiar light blue home with an open porch. Two of the upper floor windows, resting over the porch roof, were boarded up.
The glass in the far back window had cracked over the years of non maintenance. Moss made its way across the porch floor, rotting a few of the boards. She hopped the couple of steps before it and decided to rest on a nearby porch swing. Somehow the cushions seemed to be in tact and it was still able to hold her weight as she swung a bit. A certain numbness took hold of her as she began kicking the snow around. Her insides felt hollow, as if she were just a fleshy husk full of darkness. With her distraction at its end and all she had were her own thoughts, stinging tears fell from her.
Knowing that Cortland was full of people and that her home was on a main highway, all she could do was bury her face. She had to hide it deep into her folded up legs and try and hold in a last shred of dignity. Not even the piercing coldness could force her face from behind her shield. Nothing would make her chest stop hurting or glue her soul back together, after it was forcibly shattered. After a bit of isolation, an image flashed into her mind; Corey had begun tearing at her clothes. "No… No…" She was shaking her head, as if trying to stop that event in time from happening in the first place.
Another image flashed; he was screaming lustfully at the ceiling of her dorm, as her shaky hands tried to push him away. Her stomach churned again. The interior of her upper thigh seared alongside her privates. It served as an active, physical reminder that her life would never be the same again. "How could someone do that?" She tried calming her nerves as she rocked back and forth; nothing happened. Her brain continued throbbing; the fiery sensation still caressed her, refusing to even loosen its grasp.
"I wish I was dead. God, why? Why can't I just die?" Mucus ran from her nose, into her pants. "Do you really want to die Sam?" She nearly jumped from her seat. A man was on his knees, hammering nails into a broken floorboard in front of her. "Yes Dad, I truly do." The reply came so smoothly; she didn't even have to give them any thought at all. The tall, dark tan skinned man had short black hair and a thick mustache. His ears are small; his nose and jaw are wide. Her father was a carpenter for the majority of his life. He was wearing his tool belt, along with a bright neon green shirt with his logo on it.
Hive Construction: Where Work Quality Mimics the Bees. A sorrowful look rested in the man's face. He had always been a somewhat muscular person. At this moment, those nerves from before came back. She was talking to her father as clear as day, but she knew it was impossible. He died in a construction accident over three years ago. Buzzing rang through her brain as he got closer. The cold hadn't been bothering her anymore, not from the weather anyway. She knew that for sure; no, this man kept making chills go up and down her; those same chills she had when Corey grinned at her.
He's dead… Sammie, he's dead! Remember this. There was a depreciation in the seat beside her. She let her feet drop to the floor and tried to feel around for the source of the indent. He would have showed himself again, right? Why isn't he appearing now? Frantic thought after frantic thought kept her rooted to her seat.
An invisible hand slid over the back of her own until thick fingers grasped her palm. "Look at me darlin'," her father's voice popped the inflating balloon in her chest. He reappeared and this time he looked somewhat happy. That was when she realized her own hand was a lot smaller than usual. What the fuck? Her eyes darted all over the rest of her body. Her breasts weren't as big as before as they rested inside a skin tight tank top. Her legs looked as if they were beginning to become toned, and her hips had just started forming an hourglass shape.
She felt a tingling in her arms as the cold air around her grew warm and then hot. The snow had melted and the sun beamed down onto the dark green of their lawn. Every inch of the porch seemed brand new. Just then her father's voice broke her concentration. "Do you really want to die Sam?" hearing this question a second time didn't make it any easier on her. And, like before, words were already forming in her mouth before she gave them a moment's thought. "Why does cancer exist? Mom's like a saint! She's helped so many people and done extraordinary work for the homeless. No one deserves this fate, especially not her."
Deep down, she wanted nothing more than to take off on a run, but Samantha forced herself to look into her father's eyes. Something had altered; a freshly bandaged cut above his left eyebrow appeared. "Where'd you get that?" He shook his head, waving the question away. "It's unimportant honey. I need to ask you something." The tone in his voice sounded serious. The only times she'd hear this were either when she got into trouble, or for this exact moment. "Why do you want to quit your softball team? You've loved it ever since you first started your modified years." These words cut deeply; she felt herself wincing, though she masked it, acting like something flew into her eyes.
"Dad, I've been playing in sports for years now… I don't know why I want to, I just…" She stared at her feet, realizing that they too, were small. How fucking tiny was I back then? Her father's warming touch held onto her shoulder; she turned her attention back to those loving eyes. "You can't just quit because your mother is sick. She loves you very much and she'd hate to hear that you left your team because of her." She knew her father was right, but she didn't want to admit it. "I can't do this anymore dad. I…"
His warm hand disappeared; cold slipped back in, jerking her back to reality. All of the heat around the porch vanished, and the green grass became covered in the white blanket once more. "Dad?" Samantha ran her hands all over the tight covers of the seat; no indentation could be seen or felt. Her heart began breaking as her parents came back to the front of her brain. Until now, she had tried her hardest to forget their deaths, especially her mother's.
"You can't just quit because your mother's sick." This phrase had seared deep into her brain. He's right. Ever since he got back from the Army, he was an inspiration. Why did I start quitting back then? Why?! "Honey?" Layla's voice cracked through her head, fully destroying any remnants of the delusion she was in. How'd I get to the front door? She didn't even realize that her mind was that far gone. A firm, yet thin hand slipped into hers, just like her father's did. Layla's shaky breaths caressed the back of her neck, so she turned to give her friend the attention she deserved. Although Layla appeared to be relieved, Samantha knew different.
Part of her course classes were to learn the facial and body language of anyone before her. The way the sweat formed across her friend's brows, her shaking breath, the slight jittering in her arms; it all added up. "You're nervous, but what is it you're scared of?" Samantha heard her own words; the jackass undertone was there. She immediately regretted even opening her mouth. "Let's get inside hun, we can discuss more in there," Layla said, guiding her into the ancient structure. It took a while however, as the interior door had been warped shut.
After a minute passed by, a loud grunt escaped the girl in front of her, and the door slammed hard into the wall. Everything looked the same as it was so many years ago. A single hallway went from the main door down to another at the far end. There was an open concept kitchen to the right, with another wall and door beside the fridge, leading to the dining room. Samantha felt her focus going not onto the worried woman holding her hand, but towards the sunken living room on the left.
A thick, brown leather couch sat looking brand new, in the closest corner to them. Across from that, an ancient box T.V. Surrounding the walls were picture frames, some of which had fallen to the floor and shattered. "Come here," Layla yanked her into that room and pulled her onto the couch. Samantha had no choice but sit down as fast as her friend, causing her pants to rub angrily against her privates. "What's wrong?" her heart skipped. She saw that didn't she? Shit! "Why do you look so terrified? I don't understand what you're goin' through hun, but ya' gotta tell me what it is. I'm your friend, remember? Don't you think I at least deserve the right to know why you're in pain? And why you quit?"
It took some serious soul searching before she felt comfortable enough to tell her friend the truth. She picked at her fingers a bit, refusing to take her eyes off her legs. If she finds out, she'll more than likely make me go to the doctors or something. I don't know if I can face this. Stinging took place in her chest, running around her ribs and into her back. The overwhelming depression that she hid so well behind those walls, began to systematically crack and crumble them to the very foundation. Before she could even stifle her cry, or stop the faucet of words from escaping her mouth, she unloaded everything onto her friend.
Starting with Corey breaking into her room and destroying her forever, Samantha recanted every last little detail. Her friend looked on, nodding her head all the while. Her mouth had been agape ever since the word, rape, surfaced. "And now, I don't know where my life is going."
Samantha's happiness had finally returned; for the first time in a short while, her agony had finally seeped out of her every orifice. "Why are you smilin'? You were raped! Now wonder ya' don't wanna go back," Layla said. Before she knew it, Samantha was being yanked out of the living room, through the front door, across the lawn and was nearly lobbed into the passenger seat of a blue jeep. Layla hopped in on her side, took a u-turn, driving past the gas station, to the right. They were on their way to the hospital; Samantha knew this, since it was the route she took when her mother was there.
They passed a mechanic shop on the left, cruised by an old lingerie factory and sure enough, the Cortland Regional Medical Center appeared, just a couple of blocks ahead. Those orange and tan bricked walls only brought back bad memories of her mother's last days. The silence in that vehicle had been too much for Samantha to bare. She could practically hear her heart beating in her ears and it was just her and her never ending thoughts. Her breathing intensified, trying to get more air into her aching lungs. She never had problems breathing before, especially with being a runner.
"Y-You know, Lay…" It took all her energy to swallow a gulp of saliva, before she spoke on. "Are you alright?" her friend's voice echoed in her ears, followed by a piercing ringing sound. Her right eye was twitching; she could feel it throbbing uncontrollably. Her head started to shake. What's happening… to me? The next thing she knew, she could see only the dashboard, and the wheel jerking back and forth. An occasional honk of the horn pierced her skull, intensifying the loudness already taking place in her ears. Make it stop! Ugh… Why d-does it h-hurt so much?
Layla's voice was the only thing anchoring her brain from slipping into a peaceful slumber. The thought of rest acted like a tranquilizer as her eyes grew heavy. The jeep screeched as it turned into the hospital parking lot. "Fuck, fuck… Stay with me darlin'!" Those gentle fingers caressed her scalp; Samantha would groan in happiness, if she could muster it. Deep down she wanted to, but she settled for a smile. She could feel her brain losing its consciousness, hitting that medium between being asleep and awake. Her side door opened and two pure white outfits appeared. "Mom?" a woman had been grinning at her; she looked just like that woman she loved so much. Then her mind was gone; her head dropped and she felt reality slip away.