Sanity

Chapter Thirteen: Juxtaposition Part One

My mother entered the room hours later, but I still sat there looking out the window. I didn't know what to do, how to act, what to think. Everything I had come to terms with suddenly felt wrong. I went through phases: denial, worry, fear, confusion. I couldn't move from the window, so I sat there until my mother finally came back in.

She said, "You remember what the psychologist said about isolating yourself. You need to speak with your friends; they are worried about you. It isn't healthy for you to stay coped up in your room all day, and you need to eat something."

I decided to come down stairs and eat hoping she would not make me talk to any of my friends. I sat at the table, the same table in the kitchen I had seen Brett from that morning I left with him. I looked out the slider still; I couldn't force myself to look away.

I spent days looking out my window. My mother was so worried she called my psychologist to make an extra appointment. When we went in to see her, I didn't tell her about what I saw; I was so afraid she would change my medications again or extend the time my mother needed to keep an eye on me. I simply told her that I was tired, and that I was a little anxious. I lied and told them that looking out the window calmed me down, made me feel less closed in.

Of course we then spent the rest of the section discussing why I felt claustrophobic and what I could do to overcome it. Which until then I hadn't realized, I really did feel "claustrophobic" as she called it. I had just thought it was my wolf wanting to get out and run. It hit me, get out and run, I knew how to find out what was real; I needed to try to shift.

The only problem with my plan was that my mom was always around. I knew for a fact that she checked on me multiple times during the night and even more through the day. I needed to wait, and that would be torture.

***

"I don't remember what really happened to me in my time away. I have come to understand I may never know what happened, but I believe I have learned how to cope. I know the difference between reality and what my subconscious created, and I have learned how to detach myself from the fake memories, Dr. Blake and Dr. Clive have helped me through this process, and I appreciate them so much." I spoke to my teachers. "I know the transition back to full-time will be slow, and I understand I may graduate late. It is really important for me to finish high school, and my doctors and I believe it will help my recovery process. Being back in my routine from before will be really helpful, so that is why I have chosen to come back to conventional school."

"Thank you, Samantha we would love to have you back."

"Thank you."

I smiled before my mother and father spoke with them about some of the things my doctors had suggested. I left the room and sat on a hallway bench. Everything here was the same, but I wasn't the same person. I had spoken with Wit once or twice over the phone since I had been home, but I found it hard to talk with her. We didn't have anything in common, my oldest friend.

Mitch had tried to call. He even stopped by after several missed calls, but I refused to see him. I kept thinking back to the letter, and I felt too embarrassed to face him. I knew going back to school would mean seeing him, but I had to move on.

I still thought about what I thought I saw in the woods, but I had decided I was just seeing what I wanted to see. I had continued to watch the woods, but I didn't see anything else. I had finally decided to give this life a try, to forget about Brett and to live a life worthwhile in the real world, maybe even help girls like me someday. That meant going back to school.

***

"Samantha, wake up." Someone lightly shook me. I opened my eyes and then quickly closed them. "No, you aren't real. You don't exist." I said over and over clenching my eyes shut. "Samantha, please listen to me." His voice was so familiar and so comforting, but at the same time my heart hurt hearing it again. "No Brett you aren't real, leave me alone. Leave." I said these words closing my eyes again. "I'm sorry, I love you Sam." I opened my eyes again, but no one was there.

I rolled over and began to sob; I let it all out. I screamed and kicked; I didn't care anymore. Everything was so hard and going on seemed impossible. I must have woke my parents up. My mom came running into my room leaving my dad standing helpless at the door.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay." My mother cooed rubbing my back as she held me. "It was just a dream."

"I loved him so much, mom. I love him." I wailed burying my head into her shoulder. "It's so hard, living without him."

"I know, but we're here, and you will get through this."

I cried and cried. My father eventually left us, but my mom laid down with me, still crying. I finally fell back asleep, but my mom didn't leave me. She stayed.

***

"I don't think she is ready." My father said to my mother.

"She says she is, that's all we can think about right now. She can always come home if she needs to." I heard them arguing as I walked down the stairs. "Morning sweetheart."

"Morning."

"I'm ready when you are." She said smiling at me.

We left for my school shortly after. My psychologist thought it would be a good idea for my mother to drive me for a while. They thought the bus may be a little too overwhelming. This would at least give me a little more time before I had to face everyone.

My mom pulled up in front of the school just after first bell, so I didn't have to deal with the crazy hallways. She offered to walk me in, but I told her no; I needed to do this alone. I didn't want school to be a place she could rescue me from.

I walked up to the still building, the large brick structure that housed every fear I had about this town blocked out the sun behind it as it loomed over me. I paused at the door and took a deep breath. "You can do this." I told myself as I pulled open the heavy door.

The halls were quiet; as I made my way to class, all I could hear was the sound of my rubber souled snickers squeak against the clean tile. I finally reached my class on the third floor and looked in the little window on the door. I simply watched as Ms. Tattermores (I know, who has a name like that) spoke to the class until she glanced my way and found me staring. She motioned for me to come in.

"Good morning, Sam. Please have a seat." She smiled widely and for the first time I felt I had a teacher on my side. A teacher that didn't have it out for me, and I wondered if it had ever really been that way. Then again I was different and things were different now.

I turned and found the entire class looking at me with knowing smiles. Some looked empathetic, some worried, and other unconvinced, but at that moment all I could really care about was the boy sitting in the back, his dark brown hair covering his eyes as he stared blankly at his desk. I sat down at the only seat left to his right and looked over as I saw a single tear fall and hit his desk.

I looked away and tried to concentrate on class. Until Mitch got up and left the room. A few minutes passed and the teacher handed out a worksheet, so I asked her to be excused and left to find Mitch.