S a m

"I'm trying hard to forget you. But my empty walls won't let me let you go. When you took it all, you forgot your shadow." - Shadow, Sam Tsui

You left.

I reach out

Trying to grasp you

Stop you from leaving

But you were already long gone.

You told me to forget you

But I can't.

The memories of you are already

Etched into my heart.

Where they'll stay

And I won't forget.

*

"Your parents just need to sign a couple more papers and you'll be good to go," the nurse tells me, saying it very slowly, as though I've forgotten to how to speak.

I nod. "Thank you," I reply nonchalantly, distracted.

According to my doctor, for a person who had a bad fall, on some sharp rocks no less, I got out lucky, especially since I could have fell into the ocean instead of landing on a ledge. I sustained a couple of bruised ribs as well as a sprained ankle and quite a number of cuts and bruises. But nothing that can't be healed with time.

The only thing that has been bothering me is Lou.

Why hasn't she visited me since I was admitted? Mum says she has, plenty of times, in fact, but I didn't see her, not once. I wonder if Mum is just saying that to comfort me. It can't possibly be the truth.

I can't blame her either. She has no reason to visit me.

Are you sure?

"Hey, Sam, let's go," Mum says as she enters the room.

"Yeah. Let's," I reply, nodding and getting to my feet, reaching for my duffel bag.

I can't wait to get out of this stuffy ward.

I'm sure it must've cost Mum and Dad a fortune to have me transferred to a private ward and I appreciate the lack of awkward conversation with other patients, but it still feels so confining, like these walls are an ever present reminder of my failure with Lou.

I'm certain that's the reason for Lou's absence.

She's trying to tell me that it's over. Whatever we had is over. If we even had anything in the first place.

It's not like you did.

She's just a summer fling.

But it felt like so much more than that.

You can't let your heart get the better of you.

Mum quickly heads towards the bed and snatches the bag from me. "Don't worry about it. I can carry it. You just focus on getting better."

I force a smile. "Thanks, Mum."

We head towards the exit of the hospital, Mum holding tightly onto my left arm, and make a beeline for the car. I get into the passenger's seat as Mum places my bag in the back seat before getting into the driver's.

"Ready?" she asks, buckling her belt.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Alright. Then, let's go home."

*

"Sammy! You're home!" Sandy exclaims the moment I step into the living room, running towards me and throwing his arms around me, knocking me over.

I wince as I fall, the floor pressing into my ribs. "Sandy. It's good to see you too," I reply through gritted teeth. "But can you get off? You're hurting me."

"Oh. Sorry," he answers sheepishly, standing up.

I chuckle. "It's okay, Sandy. So, what have you been doing while I was gone?"

"Watching Spongebob Squarepants! The show is starting soon. Come watch with me," he tells me, grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the sofa.

"Alright, alright. But can I go and change first."

"Okay," he replies nonchalantly, plopping onto the soft cushion.

I walk up the stairs slowly, every slight movement bringing either discomfort or pain, and enter my room.

It's been cleaned. The clothes all folded neatly, placed on my bed, the covers changed and smoothened out. The mess on my table has been cleared too, my books in a stack on the far right of the desk, the trash all thrown out.

I'm honestly grateful that Mum took the time to clean my room. It's feels really nice to come back to a neat and tidy room. Maybe I should actually make an effort to keep my room clean all the time. Perhaps then Mum will stop being so stressed about my mess of a room anymore.

I close the door behind me, taking the pile of clothes and putting them in my cupboard, before sitting down, the mattress dipping under my weight.

The past week has really flown by so quickly that I barely have any time to process it all. One minute I was at the beach with Fran and Basil and the next I was with Lou in the cave and soon after that, I was unconscious and woke up in a hospital. And now, a week later - although it really felt like a whole year and just an hour long at the same time - I've been discharged from the hospital and am back home.

Back where you started.

I know I told myself I would let go of Lily, but I can't help but think about her. If only Lily fell off a tree or cliff or had a car accident then maybe she could be still be saved. And she'd still be here. But she was unfortunate enough to fall into a beyond freezing lake. I can't imagine how she felt in her final moments.

And the week after was horrible. It felt so empty. I felt so lost. It felt like both the fastest and slowest moving week at the same time, kind of like this week. And the worst thing is that I can remember every agonising detail of the events that happened after.

Especially her funeral.

*

"Hey, Sam. Are you ready to go?" Mum asked, standing beside me.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Dark circles, hollowed eyes, pale skin. I look as though I haven't seen the sun in months.

I might as well haven't.

"You'll be okay, hun. We'll all be there with you," she said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder, presumably to comfort me.

I pulled away and her arm fell to her side. "No, I won't. I can't," I replied, trying to sound strong and angry, but it came out weak and broken instead.

"Yes, you can," she said, emphasising the word 'can'. "You can, Sam."

I shook my head, not trusting myself enough to give a worded response.

"I'll go downstairs now. We leave in five minutes, okay?" she said softly before leaving my room, closing the door silently behind her.

Everyone kept saying how I will get better and how time heals all wounds but does it really? How can anyone heal from something like this? Nothing is worst than having the person you love ripped from your arms and all you can do is stand and watch helplessly from the sidelines.

How can I ever forgive myself?

I took my coat that hung from the edge of the mirror and put it on, smoothening the creases on my white button up. Taking one final look in the mirror, I exited my room.

I walked straight through the living room and kitchen and straight into the garage, getting into the back seat, not wanting to talk to anyone, not even family.

Thankfully, my family seemed to get this and didn't talk to me for the duration of our trip to the cemetery.

My heart sunk at the thought of it. Cemetery. That was no place for a person as beautiful as Lily. She's the most lively person I know. Was. It's ironic, isn't it? The one person who always filled every room she walked into with life and joy was now lying in a casket, with people grieving and mourning for her.

Knowing her, she wouldn't want any of us to feel sad or mourn over her. She'd want us to celebrate her life. To be happy. But I could hardly do that.

I'm sorry, Lily.

"You guys can get down first. I'll go and find parking," Dad said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I hadn't even realised we arrived.

Stace opened the car door and hopped out first, followed by Sandy, and I got out from the other side, alongside Mum.

She caught my eye and gave me a sad smile. "You'll be okay, Sam."

I sighed. "I hope so."

"Are you ready to give your eulogy."

I shrugged nonchalantly.

But really, I was far from ready. In fact, I was terrified.

I was afraid of not doing her justice, afraid of what people might think of me, afraid of the pitiful stares everyone was going to give me.

Yes, I really felt her loss, but everyone here didn't need to constantly remind me of it. Every single sad face and condolences felt like salt in a wound.

I didn't know how long I could handle this before caving in.

I could hardly concentrate on what was going on around me. Everything moved in slow motion, everything a blur, every word uttered sounded like tuned out. I felt numb, empty, overwhelmed. So many emotions. Too many. Too many that I didn't know what I was feeling.

My mind was just a turmoiled mess at that point.

"And now, Lily's best friend and childhood friend, Sam Mitchell, would like to say a few words. Sam?"

The master of ceremony, Lily's uncle, gestured for me to take his place in front of the crowd of people in black clothes, all mourning over the departure of our dearly beloved.

I started towards the front, feeling everyone's eyes on me as I walked. I reached for the folded piece of paper in my pocket and unfolded it, my eyes scanning the text I had written.

It felt too fake to read from this. It felt too planned, like my friendship - my relationship - with Lily meant nothing.

I dropped my arm to my side, gripping the paper tightly, and started speaking.

"Lily. I don't even know how to begin to describe what we were." I gulped, becoming very aware of the stares of the adults on me. "She meant so much to me that words will never do justice. Her views of the world were very different from the norm and she never ceased to amuse me. Just spending a minute with her could turn my day around. She was adventurous, a risk taker, but cautious at the same time. She always knew when to do what.

"Whenever she walked into a room, all eyes will turn to her. She has that spark in her eyes and her joy and carefreeness and liveliness has always inspired me."

I paused, closing my eyes as the times we spent together flooded my mind.

"There are literally no words to describe what an amazing person she was. She is. She'll always live in my heart. She'll always-"

I stopped, my eyes welling up with tears.

"I loved her greatly, and I always will. Nothing will change that."

A tear rolled down my cheek and I brushed it away with the back of my hand.

"I know this is short, and possibly not what you were expecting, but I feel like this is what Lily deserves. Thank you."

The attendees started clapping as I resumed my place by my parents' side. Not the cheery and wild kind of applause. The mellowed and polite kind.

And I guess that's the only thing we can really do for someone who has already gone. Give them our respect.

But there are so many things I wish I could've said, that I wish I could've told her. But I guess it's too late now, isn't it?

*

I know I'm not attending Lou's funeral right now - thank gosh I'm not - but her silence feels like I am losing someone for good again. Like I'm mourning over someone who is still alive and breathing.

But I guess that's just how it's supposed to be.

And if she wants to go, she should. Who am I to stop her?

My ears perk up at the sound of my door opening.

"Sam?" Mum starts. "I forgot to tell you. Lou left you this. You should read it."

She walks towards me and passes me a crumpled envelope. I take it from her and place it on my lap.

"Rest well, okay?" she says before leaving the room.

I look down at the envelope, my finger tracing the letter on it's cover. I'm not even sure if I want to open it.

Open it.

Maybe then you'll have closure and you'll stop using her as your rebound.

And you can finally move on.

From the both of them.

___

A/N: I personally find it quite ironic that the singer of the song is named Sam as well. Don't you? Haha.

Anyway, do you think Sam will ever be able to forgive himself and move on? Do you have your own personal experience where you just can't forgive yourself over something? I know I do. I have too many regrets and too many things stopping me from forgiving myself. Maybe I'll tell you my story someday. c:

Love you all!