trigger warning activated for next few chapters
The next week was slow. Sammy didn't get out of bed. Lee would stay with her at night, leaving throughout the day to see the guys and get food. He would try to get her to eat but she was mostly unresponsive, losing a bit of weight each day. Tool was understanding and told Lee to give her as much time as she needed. Rico's had called her a few times but she didn't answer. He figured she was done with that place.
He was sitting on the edge of her bed, the blinds pulled up and curtains spread to let in the sunlight. He was trying to encourage her to get up, even just to move around a little. She was just staring up at him and then to the wall, the bags around her eyes like sunken caverns in her face. Her skin was stretched taught against her cheekbones and jaw, dehydrated and hungry.
"Just for a little bit," he said, rubbing circles on her back. "We'll sit out on the porch, get some fresh air. Maybe if you're feeling up to it, you can take a quick shower."
Sammy looked up at him, her brain running cold and numb. It hurt to think, to move, to breathe- everything now was a first. Her first time waking up in a world where Riley was gone- where she had existed, however briefly, and now didn't any longer.
"Lee?" She asked, and he was surprised by her voice.
"Yeah?"
"Why did you stay?"
He moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek.
"I didn't want to go."
Lee thought he was hallucinating when he saw Sammy spread her lips into a faint smile. He smiled back, much bigger.
"Please, Sammy? While you're up we can wash the sheets."
She reached up a hand and Lee took it, helping her as she tugged herself up to a sitting position. She looked down at her feet dangling off the bed, pale and narrow. He stood up and encouraged her to do the same, thought for a brief second she was dizzy and uncertain. After a moment she took his hand and stood.
"Look at that," Lee said happily, sending her a smile. "She's alive."
She looked away sheepishly and he pulled her chin back towards his own. He looked her over.
"I'll make you something to eat while you take a shower, yeah?"
She nodded, closing her fingers between his. He left her by the door to the bathroom, watching as she slowly made her way in and started up the water. He pulled the door closed, leaving it open just a sliver so he could hear if she needed him. He went back to the kitchen and grabbed some eggs to make breakfast.
He had cleaned up a little while she hibernated. The place looked the same, but was a bit more alive- there was less dust, a few broken things here and there had been fixed or replaced, and the living room had been organized so that the couch wasn't covered in blankets and there were no dishes on the coffee table. He'd even gone to the grocery store and grabbed some things, hoping something he'd find would tempt Sammy from her room. He wasn't sure what finally did it- maybe it was just the effect of time making it easier to cope, or maybe it was something he'd said. He listened while the water ran in the bathroom, frying the eggs in the pan.
Barney had even stopped by at one point over the week. He knew where to go because he knew where Lee lived, and figured he just had to go one house over in either direction. He didn't have to look hard, though, because Lee's bike was a driveway over from his own. When Lee answered the door, he looked tired, his stubble a bit grown in. Barney looked him up and down and gave him a look to which in response Lee rolled his eyes and closed the door.
They talked outside on Sammy's porch over beers for a bit, about how she was doing and potential jobs. Lee said he needed to take some time. Barney understood.
He heard the shower turn off and slid the breakfast onto the plate. He made sure to pack her plate tight, hoping that once she started eating she'd realize how hungry she'd gotten. He heard the bathroom door creak open and could smell the soap wafting out from the shower. Sammy came up behind him, wrapped in a crisp white towel, and looked over all the food.
"Did you go shopping?" She asked.
Lee turned around and held his breath. Her hair was wet and silky over her shoulders, her thin arms folded up over the top of the towel.
"I did," he said, turning to grab the plate and hold it out to her. "Want something to drink?"
"I need to get dressed," she said, looking down at her bare feet.
"Yeah-" he said, nodding, putting the plate down on the island behind her. "Of course. Do you need-"
She raised an eyebrow at his hesitation. "Do I need... your help?"
He felt his cheeks flush and thought he was an idiot. She wasn't a child, she was just trying to put herself back together. She chuckled a little.
"I think I'll manage," she said wearily. "I'll be back."
Lee watched her go. Even sad the way she was, he thought she was beautiful. He moved the plate over to the coffee table and made up his own. He poured them both a cup of orange juice and sat anxiously on the couch, listening for Sammy.
She was pulling on some leggings. She looked around her room for a shirt and grabbed one that was loose and comfortable. It was an old band tee, the logo and name faded nearly completely. She wasn't even sure how long she had it for. She ran her fingers through her hair with a sigh. It was stringy and tangled. She made her way back out and found Lee in the living room, flipping through TV channels.
"Orange juice?" She asked gently, sitting beside him.
"My favorite," he said.
"I thought your favorite was beer."
He hesitated for a second and then nodded, chuckling. She pulled the plate onto her lap and played with the food a bit, poking her fork into the eggs and holding them up until they fell back onto her plate. Lee watched her in silence.
"How are you?" He asked.
She looked up at him and swallowed, letting the fork rest on the plate. She sighed.
"I feel weird," she said. "This last month has been... weird."
"It's okay," Lee said, nodding along. "It will be."
"Are you an optimist by nature, or did you just force yourself to be this way?"
Lee smirked, putting his plate down on the table in front of him. "Are you gonna eat?"
Sammy sighed. She didn't feel hungry in the slightest. She picked up the fork and forced herself to down some eggs, but it felt wrong sliding down her throat into her stomach.
"Do you want to come with me to Tool's today?" He asked.
"Sure," she said.
He nodded. He hadn't expected her to say yes. He'd have to text Barney to make sure the guys kept their shit somewhat together. They'd had a few conversations about it all, usually after loosening up with a few drinks, and all the them felt bad. They didn't say anything hurtful or disrespectful, but he didn't know if you wanted to hear them talk about it whatsoever.
"I have to get my last paycheck from Rico's," she said, putting the plate down on the table and dropping her head. "They've been calling."
"I noticed," he said. "I could bring you there first if you want."
She nodded, "that's probably best."
Lee leaned over and took her plate, wrapping it up and sliding it into the fridge. He set his own plate in the sink and was washing it off when Sammy drifted behind him, sliding her arms under his own and pressing her head against his back. He was confused, but he didn't move to push her away.
"I'm sorry, Lee," she said.
"For what?" He asked.
She didn't answer. She wasn't sure how to put it all into words. She felt like she had taken this man from his life and tumbled into a pit with him and he didn't even care. She just wanted to hold onto him for a second. The sorry was also a thank you, but he had asked her to stop thanking him.
"Sammy," Lee said, turning in her arms so that her head was pressed to his chest instead of his back. "You don't have to be sorry. I like being here with you. I like sleeping next to you. I don't mind."
She felt a little twinge in her heart. She pressed into him just a little bit harder and took a breath. He wrapped his arms around her as well, pressing his lips to the top of her head.
"I'm still sorry."
Lee lifted his hands to her cheeks and held her face up to his. He shook his head, finding her eyes.
"It's okay," he said. "Believe me. It's okay. And if it was me, what would you be doing, huh?"
Sammy let out a little chuckle and nodded. She'd be waiting around on him too, not necessarily out of the goodness of her heart, but also because since that night she invited him over for beer, she felt like she didn't want to go a night without him. When he'd left for work for that week and a half, she couldn't sleep unless she was completely exhausted. He was some kind of drug and she was spiraling fast. Maybe he was, too. He hadn't left her side.
"I would be with you," she said, settling on his eyes. He nodded, his breath bouncing off of her upper lip.
She looked down before she did something stupid like kiss him.
For five years she'd known him and never wanted to kiss him until that moment. She just plopped herself hopelessly against his chest and he held onto her, leaning back against the counter.
"You ready to go?" He asked.
She nodded, pulling away.
"Alright. I should just get you your own helmet for the bike," he said, grabbing his keys. She smiled. She wouldn't have minded trading in her car for a bike of her own. She liked it, the way it felt like flying. She didn't need to leap headfirst into one of those heaven-puddles to fly.
She followed him out the door, ducking her head as he fastened the helmet around her. She climbed on the bike behind him and held on, her head peeking over his shoulder instead of down at the road. Her chest was pressed against his back and if she held her arms out straight, she might have flown away.
Lee didn't realize how happy he'd feel when she finally got out of bed and had something to eat and went outside. He felt like he was doing something right anytime he was at her side. Like any ounce of bad he'd done could be counteracted in her presence. He wished he had kissed her in the kitchen, but he didn't want that moment to be tarnished by tears or the memory of Riley laying in that bed, which he knew was still freshly burned into her mind. She'd mumble in her sleep sometimes and it would wake him up, and she'd always have tears slipping out of her closed eyes, calling out for her sister, or sometimes for Lee. He'd stay awake until she went quiet, and then he'd pull her close and fall back asleep. Even in those moments, he felt like she was a light on his dark life.
Lee rolled to a stop in front of Rico's, kicking down the stand and resting on his seat while Sammy handed him the helmet. He pulled out his phone and texted Barney.
Sammy is coming with me. Tell the guys not to be stupid. -Lee
He waited for a reply, glancing up to see if Sammy was headed back yet.
She's awake? I'll let them know. -B
Lee didn't bother answering. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and looked around. The parking lot was mostly empty, the way it was when he had shown up there for breakfast desperate to see Sammy again. The ground was hot and some puddles were scattered about, muddy and fading. After a minute Sammy came back out, tucking her last paycheck into her pocket.
"All good?" He asked, handing her back the helmet.
She nodded. "Doesn't matter anymore. I hate this place."
Lee nodded. He wasn't a huge fan either. "It's done now. You can work at Tool's."
Sammy climbed onto the bike and wrapped herself around him. "Maybe I'll make a tattoo of Riley."
Lee glanced back at her. He wasn't expecting her to mention her sister let alone say her name.
"You should," he said, starting up the bike and heading off towards Tool's.
—-
They pulled up to the shop and for the first time since getting out of bed, Sammy hesitated. She stood there looking at the sign in the middle of the road, wondering if the magic she felt getting her art together for the first time in years would still be there after everything that happened.
"You can do it," Lee said, standing next to her and looking over at the building, too.
"I don't know," she said, her mouth running dry.
"Come on," Lee said, offering his hand. She looked down at it and then slid her fingers between his. There was no other choice now. She was going in.
When the door opened she felt like she was back in the moment she got the call from her mom. Her heart was in her throat, her stomach a black hole that was twisting in on itself. She let out a shaky breath and he gave her hand a squeeze, rubbing the pad of his thumb along her knuckles.
"Barney, Tool," Lee called, "we're here."
"We're upstairs," Barney yelled back.
Lee turned to Sammy. "Do you want to go up there?"
She let out another stuttering breath and looked over to her art table. Lee gave her shoulder a squeeze.
"Go do some art," he said. "I'll be right upstairs. You can text me if you need anything, or you can just come up, alright?"
She nodded, letting his hand fall away from hers. She forced a crooked smile as she looked up at him, and as he went to turn away she grabbed his hand again, pulling him to her.
"What is it?" He asked.
Sammy stood up on her toes and wrapped him in a hug before kissing his cheek. It was a gentle, soft kiss, almost barely noticeable, but he felt every second of it. He watched as she sunk away from him and turned to her desk, her art still mounted on the wall above it. He smiled, his eyes glued to her for another moment before he turned softly on his heels and headed up the stairs.
Sammy sat at the desk and looked down at the sketch pad resting on top of it. She did not want to do art. She did not want to design a tattoo of Riley. She did not want to lay in bed and feel the pain course through her every second of the day.
She wanted it to be done.
Since she had gotten into bed after coming back from New York, she was running things over in her mind. The pain seemed just to simmer and worsen as each day faded into night and night into day, and she was so tired. She wanted just to go to sleep and drift off into nothingness where she didn't have to think or remember or feel. The pain in her mother's eyes as she said both of her daughters were dead flashed before her and she flinched, fists clenched on the surface of her desk, shaking with rage. She was alive. She was standing right there in front of her, breathing and living and feeling and hurting, but she just stood there and yelled at her, snapped at her, and all but told her to get out of her life. She felt more than just abandoned. Even though she had been the one to walk away, her mother was the one that ended everything.
She slammed her fist down and a few pencils rolled off the desk, snapping her back to reality. She sighed, pulling her hands into her lap, her heart burning with grief and anger. She felt like half of her soul, or at least a huge part of it, had been ripped away from her and she would never get it back. How do you exist with half of a soul? How do you exist with the pain, the grief, the loneliness of knowing that the only person you ever wanted to keep safe more than anything was gone?
The answer felt clear to her.
You didn't.
She stood and listened to the vague banter up the stairs. There was an apartment up there where Tool lived and where the guys liked to hang out. Sometimes they would sit on their bikes in the shop, but she had only been there for that once, the night before they left for work.
Work. She still didn't know what exactly it was that they did for work. She knew she didn't need to know all the details, and in some ways, maybe it was better.
She stood up and wandered over to the door where their jackets were strewn about, some hanging on knives lodged in the wall while others fell to the floor. She found the biggest one and searched through the pockets, keeping an ear out for the guys upstairs. She pulled out a bottle of pills and sighed.
She knew Gunner was something of an addict the second she saw him. He had that hollow, floaty look in his eyes, a face begging for another fix. She recognized it. It had been a face she'd known all too well when she was a teenager.
Maybe that's why her mother had so much loathing in her heart for her. When Sammy's grandmother was dying, shortly after Riley was born, the doctors had prescribed her a series of medications to make her comfortable. Sammy was young and miserable, trying to understand the bold audacity of death and why life had to end and realizing at her failings that she would never understand. So she stole a few pills and realize that they numbed that pain.
It had never been a problem to the point that it endangered her life. Her mother had found out not long after her grandmother passed away and lost her mind- she had a dead mom, a newborn in the house, and a teenage addict for a daughter. What was a woman to do? How was she supposed to cope? Go to your room, Sammy, and don't come out until I tell you to. I have to talk with your father.
Sammy closed her hands around the pill bottle and shoved it into her pocket. She walked back over to her desk and looked over the art she had made. She had always been an artist, but after her run-in with addiction and the loss of her grandmother, she really dove into visuals and narratives and all the beautiful things in the world. For a little while, at least, she found purpose in the colors. In the lines. In the tones and shades and values. She found and lost herself on a canvas, and she would never let that part of her go- until one day she looked up, got a call, and realized that those canvases wouldn't save her baby sister. There was no twelve step program for cancer. There was no shade of blue that could answer all of her questions and put her at ease. There was only death and its inevitability, and the brand of death that she longed for now came in the form of a neon orange prescription bottle.
She had the urge to tear her artwork down but refrained, partially because it would collect the attention of the men upstairs and mostly because in some weird, sick pull of fate, she could feel Riley's hands holding her back. Riley was her biggest fan, her most eccentric collector- she might as well have had the Midas touch because anything that Sammy touched was gold, and if she graced it with a brush, even better. Riley took everything from scribbled down notes to paint swatches on a piece of paper and said that one day her collection would make her millions because her big sister would be famous.
So you'd sell all my art?
Of course, isn't that what it's for, silly?
There were pieces she knew Riley would never part with, but under the assumption that she was correct in thinking Sammy's art would be worth money one day, she didn't mind if Riley would've sold everything. If it had the chance to give her a good life, that was enough of a reason for Sammy.
Not that it mattered anymore, because Riley was dead and Sammy's art was taped and stapled to a wall in some makeshift tattoo parlor soon to be stashed away to collect dust until the end of time. Oh well for that.
Sammy looked around and drew in a breath. As much as she didn't mind the place, she didn't think it would be a comfortable way to die. She remembered that the bathroom upstairs was warm, because it was small and for some reason had a heater that fed right into it. The guys would notice her pass by, but they were a few drinks in. They wouldn't break the seal for a few hours, too busy talking about whatever it was they talked about.
Without a second thought, Sammy turned and made her way to the stairs, slowly climbing them and looking over the shop. Her art was just a fragment of it. The rest was all Tool. It would be like she was never even there- just a speck of dust floating through that came and went, nothing more.
Barney saw her first.
"Hey, kid," he said, holding up his bottle. "How you holding up?"
"I'm... alright," she said.
"Want a drink?"
"I'm okay," she said, motioning to the hall. "Just going to use the bathroom. Maybe later."
Barney shrugged. She could feel Lee watching her like she did every time he trained his eyes to her, but she was afraid that seeing him would make her hesitate. There was no room for that. She went over to the bathroom and closed the door, looking quickly in the mirror at herself. She was sickly pale, and the color of her skin reminded her of Riley laying in that bed. Poor, sweet Riley. She was going to be so amazing, so much better than Sammy ever was.
Sammy let her head hang between her shoulders and placed the pill bottle on the edge of the sink. She was starting to shake, like her body knew what was about to happen and some primal instinct inside of her was fighting against her mind. She squeezed the sink with a white-knuckled grip and blew out some air, her hair bouncing up around her.
New Orleans was a beautiful place.
She turned on the sink and palmed some water into her mouth, yanking open the pill bottle with a gentle grunt. A few pills fell out but she didn't mind- there was more than enough. Gunner must have just refilled his stock. She took a handful and shoved them into her mouth, dropping her head below the flow of the water to try and shove them down. She came up for air and realized she was crying.
She was always fucking crying.
Angry, she slapped and wiped at her cheeks, trying to keep the noise down so she wouldn't gather any unwanted attention. She spilled the rest of the pills out into her had and dropped a few more into her mouth, turning the water off as she watched herself sink down against the wall in the mirror.
She was already feeling numb. She remembered that feeling, but it was never so intense. She was floating, life itself no match for her. It was bliss.
She closed her eyes and tried to think of Riley.