The Mist - 3
Sam blinked sleepily as the bright morning sunshine woke him up. He had been sleeping peacefully all night. A dreamless, serene sleep. He jumped up from the chair he had been on all night as that dreaded realisation washed over him ….. he wasn't alive.
Every time the thought came into his head, it hurt worse each time. This couldn't be real. He refused to believe it. If he was dead, then he wouldn't wake up again. Death should be sleeping peacefully, just like he did last night.
He looked around him, remembering that he had spent the night on Rachel's balcony. Her curtains were still open just as she had left them last night and he peered into her room, his eyes immediately looking at the clock.
He didn't have to look for long, as the clock started beeping loudly, each beep ringing in Sams ears. This was certainly one thing he didn't enjoy about being dead, every single noise and movement was ten times louder in his sensitive ears. Not that he enjoyed anything about being dead of course.
He watched as Rachel stirred, groaned in protest and shut off her alarm. She had always gotten up at the crack of dawn, the Glee club always poked fun of her for being such an early riser. It was only six thirty. Sam had always been the type to just roll out of bed about ten minutes before he had to leave, grab a quick shower and go. But not Rachel, she was always one step ahead of everyone. He loved that about her.
She got out of bed, looking like she had just turned up for a photo shoot. How could anyone look that good after sleeping all night? He was still watching her as she pulled at the waistband of her PJ's and Sam realised just in time what she was doing. It was creepy enough that he was here without her knowing, that they had in a way slept together last night…. There was no way he would disrespect her by watching her get changed. He turned away and started making his way back down the easily climbable tree that had led him to her balcony in the first place.
He hovered at the bottom of the tree, debating what to do now. He refused to even think about home. The pain each time he thought of his family, his family he loved so much, was only getting worse. He definitely wasn't strong enough to face them just yet. He still kept hoping that he would vanish, just disappear into some ghosty world so he never had to deal with pain or emotions again, but right now…. He was here. And he knew he couldn't go back home.
Just as he was deciding what to do, he heard a shower turn on above him. Rachel. It was amazing to him that he could hear everything so clear, see everything so clear. Right now, he could see every vein and tiny detail on a small leaf at the bottom of Rachel's driveway. The world really was a beautiful place. A beautiful place that he was no longer a part of.
He sat down under the tree he had just climbed, listening to Rachel softly humming as she took a shower. He couldn't figure out what the tune was, but she sounded sad. He felt like an awful person. He hated her being sad and yet…. He was relieved she was. That meant that she cared about him. And he cared about her. But she would never know.
He closed his eyes as he carried on listening, what was it about girls and taking long showers or baths? She was in there for at least half an hour, humming that sad tune the whole time. After a while, he heard the hairdryer going and her Dads downstairs making breakfast. It was amazing how even though he could smell the bacon and waffles, he wasn't hungry. He knew that he would never eat or drink again. It was just one of the many weird things he had to get his head around.
He listened as Rachel sat with her Dads while they tried to get her to eat some breakfast which she declined. Sam frowned about that, she had to eat. He didn't want to be responsible for her becoming ill and weak. After ten minutes, Sam heard her chair scrape back as she told her Dads she was going out and before he could even scramble up from where he was perched at the tree, she had marched outside, slamming the front door shut.
It was only when he saw her walking to her car with no bags or books that he realised it must be Saturday. No school. He felt a rush of disappointment at that. He had planned on hanging out at the school. He still didn't want to go home and face his family, so being around his friends would have been a distraction for a little while at least.
He quickly caught up with Rachel and clambered in the backseat of her car. He felt slightly guilty. If he was still alive, he would probably get arrested for following an innocent girl around everywhere. But he couldn't think about the what ifs. He wasn't alive and he had nothing to do, nowhere else to go. So he pushed his guilt to the side and breathed in the scent of Rachel as she climbed in the car and started the engine. She always smelt of vanilla and it made him feel comfortable. If she ever changed, if she ever suddenly started smelling of honey or chocolate, he wouldn't be OK with that. He chuckled to himself, finding it highly amusing that even as a ghost, he was worried about stupid stuff like that.
Just before Rachel drove out of the driveway, she turned her head round and stared right at him. It was only for a second, but it was if she could feel something, sense something. Just like last night out on her balcony when it had almost seemed like she had seen him. Sam shivered as she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to face the road.
Sam leant forward and watched her as she drove. She was concentrating but she was also lost. She was trapped inside her own head and she looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
"Where are we going Rach?"
He spoke gently, his head next to her shoulder. He could have sworn she jumped the tiniest bit when he spoke, but then he realised it must all be in his head. She couldn't hear him. Nobody could. Sam sat back anyhow, he didn't want to put her off her driving.
He watched the streets whizz by, feeling a pang of sadness with each house he recognised. Every house held a friend or somebody that meant something to him who would never see him again. So far, being dead was a lonely business. He was so busy sinking into a world of self pity that it took him longer than it should have to realise exactly where they were when the car stopped. Rachel shut the engine off and rested her head against the steering wheel while Sams heart rate sped up as he shook his head wildly.
"No. Not here Rach. Anywhere but here."
The back of his eyes burned with tears as he stared at the house in front of him. His house. The house he had ran away from just last night.
He tried to steady his breathing, it felt like he was…. well…. dying. He couldn't get enough air into his lungs and all he could do was stare in horror as Rachel got out of the car. He scrambled out quickly after her. He didn't want to, but he also didn't want to stay in the car. He didn't know what to do.
He walked beside her as she marched up to his house and knocked three times on the familiar wooden door. Sam shook his head as he heard Rachel sniff beside him and take a deep breath. He could tell she was nervous but it was nothing compared to the way he was feeling right now. What was she doing here?
Sam automatically took a step back as the door opened. He gasped as his Mom, looking fragile and tired, pulled Rachel into her arms. It hit him harder than he had even dreamed it would. His Mom wasn't just any lady, she was the toughest, kindest and bravest person he knew. So seeing her here, so obviously broken, felt like a knife being twisted in his stomach.
He watched his Mom step back from Rachel and tried to smile. It didn't work.
"So lovely of you to drop by Rachel, please come in."
Rachel nodded and followed his Mom inside. Sam had no choice but to follow, trying desperately not to cry as he breathed in the smell of home. The three of them walked into the front room. Sam shuddered at the cards littering every mantel piece and window sill. Every card for him. People, family, friends, and even strangers, all offering their sympathy to the tragedy of a young life gone too soon. He couldn't bring himself to look at the bunches of fading white flowers. It all seemed so morbid. It was morbid. He was dead after all.
Rachel sat on the sofa as his Mom sat in Sams favourite chair opposite. He decided to sit next to Rachel, while he tried to steady his tears and keep his breathing calm.
"Can I offer you a drink or…. ?"
His Mom trailed off as Rachel shook her head.
"No thanks. I just…. I came to tell you about a party that the guys at school wanted to throw in Sams honour. I didn't want to let anything go ahead without you knowing first."
Sam raised an eyebrow at this new piece of information. A party for him? It sucked that nobody would know he would be there. He watched his Mom smile, a genuine one this time but a sad one all the same.
"That is very sweet of you Rachel. Thank you. Sams Dad went back to work today and I sent his brother and sister to their aunties. They needed to get out of here, away from all the sadness. It's not doing any of us any good. I will be sure to let them know about the party. Tell the boys they have our blessing to do that. He…. Sam….. would have loved it."
A sad silence engulfed the room and Sam caught Rachel glancing at his cards. For some absurd reason, it embarrassed him. It bothered him. He couldn't pinpoint why it bothered him but he guessed it was something to do with him being dead. Everything came back to that. He would be worried if it didn't bother him.
After a while, Rachel sniffed and pulled her gaze away from the sad cards. She smiled softly at his Mom.
"Is there anything I can do for you Mrs Evans? Do you need help with the children? Do you need food, or any help with the house?"
The offer from Rachel was so genuine and heartfelt that it brought a lump to Sams throat. She was so caring. He only wished he had got to spend more time with her.
His Mom sighed deeply and tried, but failed yet again to smile.
"That is very kind of you sweetheart. At the moment, I honestly have no idea if I need help or not. Everything is still so…. so raw." She fumbled for a well used tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. Sam put his head in his hands, unable to watch the grief. "If anything comes to mind, at least I know you are here to help. I appreciate that Rachel."
Rachel nodded meekly and set off by his Moms tears, she brushed one of her own aside and took a shaky breath.
"I can't imagine what you are going through. I…. I don't mean to come across as selfish but I miss him. I miss him so much it hurts and I was just a … well, just a friend. You were his Mom. You are his Mom. And your heart must be breaking ten times worse than mine and I just can't even imagine how that must feel."
A sob escaped his Moms lips. She stood up, walked over to the nearby cabinet, retrieved an envelope and sat back down again, looking at Rachel with glistening eyes.
"I uh…. I thought you should know we had the results back. We have an answer now so I guess…. I guess that is something."
Sam looked up at this news, feeling sick as Rachel took the envelope. So his death had been unexplained? And the answers were in that envelope. That one piece of paper held the reason he died. And he knew in that moment he couldn't face it. Rachel stared at the writing on the envelope, her breathing shaky and unsteady.
She hesitated before starting to undo the already opened packet. Sam shook his head and stood up. He rushed over to his Mom and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"I'm sorry Mom. I don't want to know. I'm not ready to know. I love you. I love you so much. I will be back soon if I can. You need to eat and sleep. You need to look after yourself."
He flinched as he heard the rustling of paper and knew that he needed to get out of the house before the answer was revealed.
He ran outside and down to the bottom of his driveway , collapsing under a tree. He suddenly remembered how extra sensitive his hearing had been since he had died so he stuck his fingers in his ears for good measure and started humming a loud tune.
All he knew in that moment was that he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for any of it. He wanted to live. And if he couldn't live then he wanted to die. But really die. Instead he was stuck here, being tortured by the grief of his loved ones and his own sadness.
There was no way out.