Killing Samuel and Moving On

Quill

They closed their eyes, and even though they didn't want to, they remembered.

They remembered how cold the night had been as they'd stumbled out into the pouring rain. Shuddering under the liquid bullets that stung every time it hit their pale skin. They didn't know what to do. They didn't know who to call.

Dove was states away. Mom and Dad were finally visiting family back in China again. Page wasn't a close friend. Not yet, at least. Blake was gone and Oscar too. Selene, and Bronte, and there was no one to call for help. There was no one that could come and fix this.

They remembered dragging their overstuffed suitcase down the street. Blake's coveted backpack was half opened and getting filled with the rain. They hadn't had much time to make everything neat. They waited for Quill to fall asleep, threw together everything that was inside, and ran.

They ran and ran and ran until they couldn't feel the blood trickling down their leg. Maybe the rain had washed it away. But who knows? It could've been the white nightgown clinging to their body like a second skin. It could've been this and it could've been that.

The world was spinning and with it was time. They were forgetting things. Like the stuff that used to make them happy or the time's they thought Quill loved them. They were forgetting what it felt like to be safe in another's embrace. They were forgetting what it felt like to open their heart and allow someone to hurt them like this.

Their breathing came in short pants.

They were losing the sad song of life amongst the wet cement. Grasping at, but failing to hold onto, that feeling of being someone's something. They were thinking of Sam and Charlie and that scene where Sam asked why we chose bad people to love. And what Charlie said back had stuck. It was cemented in the back of their mind of memories smooshed between Selene and Bronte. They recalled the love the three of them once held and finally cried.

Their breath was heaving and strained; chest aching terribly.

They were being deprived of promises to live an adventurous life of running across the globe. They wanted to explore when they grew up. Blake simply wanted to be happy.

Blake.

They stumbled to the ground and finally sunk to their knees. The rain, the cold, the clothes, the dripping makeup, the drenched hair-

Their fingers trembled as they finally pulled out their phone. Tried to ease their breathing, but failed to do so. Dove had said something weeks ago. It was a slip of the tongue. Not meant to be heard by them.

But they'd remembered and they'd filed that information away for later. Why? Who knew.

They called that number and waited. They waited on the ground, dirty and ashamed, listening to the heavy ringing of the tone.

Waiting.

They were waiting.

"Samuel?" They had cringed at the sound of the unused name. It wasn't that they hated Samuel. No, they quite liked him. They just weren't too sure if they were ready to go back to being Samuel. Or if they even wanted to. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Phoebe was studying in Portland, Oregon.

It was the farthest place she could go. Dove had mentioned she was here and they'd often look for her in the crowd of faces. Wondering what it would be like for two "strangers" to be reunited so far away from home.

This was not how they'd planned for it to go.

"I need your help." They dropped the fake voice Quill so often made them use and resorted back to the heavy timber that was Samuel. "Please, I need your help."

It was a shot in the dark.

"What's wrong?" They almost cried at the mere sound of her voice. It was the same. It hadn't changed. "Samuel, tell me where you are. Is it that café?"

"How do you-"

"Dove," Phoebe sighed. "Dove told me."

They rubbed their mascara stained cheeks and sniffed. "I'm nearby. Maybe two or three blocks away."

"Ok." There was shuffling in the background as Phoebe gathered her things. "Stay on the phone. Do not hang up."

Time passed slowly as they heard the car door slam. Radio music and rain pounding. On their end and hers. 

Rain washed them in the streets as they plucked at their pinkened nightgown. A hole here a tear there. They wondered what Phoebe would think when she saw them for the pathetic mess that they were.

Freak.

She had been right to call Samuel that.

Freak.

That's what this was.

Freak.

There was Samuel and Stella and them and it was a mess.

Fre-

"Samuel?" They looked up to see Phoebe's worried eyes staring down at them. Her jacket, stitched with her school's logo, kept her from getting soaked in the rain. Eyes quickly scanned their disheveled state. "What-"

Phoebe's fingers pulled on the pale red stain at the bottom of their dress. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Were they hurt?

Their heart said yes so they nodded.

"Ok." Phoebe gently wrapped her arms around them and pulled them to their feet. The passenger door opened as Phoebe deposited them into the old seat. She threw the rest of their things in the back and raced to the other side. "Let's get you to the hospital."

"Wait." They grabbed Phoebe's hand and forced her to look at them. To really look at them. The dripping makeup and the shoulder length hair. The dress and the manicured nails. It wasn't Halloween. There was no reason to look like this. "I'm not Samuel."

Phoebe tilted her head to the side and slowly said, "Ok."

"I'm not Samuel," they repeated. They didn't know what was to come. They didn't know what the future held. But they knew, in their heart of hearts they knew, they were not Samuel. And perhaps, maybe they had never truly been Samuel. "I'm not Samuel."

"Who are you, then?" They didn't see Bee. Bee was gone after that hateful word. But, they didn't see Phoebe either. Phoebe vanished after her family crumbled and Blake abandoned her already broken heart. This woman before them was different. They could feel it in the air of which she carried herself. The way of which she spoke. The voice was the same but the words felt different. She felt different.

"Stella," they replied. "I'm Stella."

The car was quiet with only the soundtrack of the rain playing. And then she nodded, slipping her hand through theirs as if they were shaking.

"It's nice to meet you, Stella." Another pause. "I'm Feebs."

They opened their eyes and tossed Quill's letters together. They didn't bother wiping their tears away as they scribbled the prison address. They didn't bother to make it neat. They simply closed that chapter of their life with a, Fuck you, Quill, and found the strength to move on.

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