When she awoke it had only been a few hours. Her eyes drifted dreamily around the room and she gradually remembered where she was. The room was slightly darker and she knew sunset was not far away. Slowly she got to her feet and stretched her sore body. She wandered around the house. Smeagol was still gone and she decided to find him. She pocketed the paper with the address and left the house.
It did not take long to find the house. She knocked on the door and a woman answered.
"Hello," she said kindly. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah," said Hope. "Is Smeagol here?"
"He's in the other room with my daughter. Please come inside." Hope smiled and stepped in quietly.
"Thank you," she said softly. She was led to the other room and found Smeagol sitting by the fire, a little girl sitting on his lap with a book in her hands. The girl was pale with long black hair that reached an inch below her waist. There were large dark circles under her eyes and her face was completely devoid of expression. Hope stayed there, watching in the doorway, the mother standing a foot behind her.
"That's my daughter, Samara," said the woman softly. "She'll be eight in a few days." Hope nodded and watched as the little girl began to stutter a line.
"M-m-my dog is b-b-b-big," she stuttered. Smeagol smiled and patted her leg.
"Very good," he said kindly.
"He's so wonderful," said the mother softly. "Samara usually struggles with speaking and reading, but for some reason she responds to him." Hope turned and looked at her.
"What's wrong with her?" she asked softly. The mother frowned.
"She's got a head problem. The doctors here of coarse can't do a thing to help it. It's a miracle she's lived this long." Hope's eyes widened and she looked back at Smeagol and Samara.
"Oh
my gosh," she whispered. "But she's fine now, right?"
"I
can't tell anymore. Her face has lost expression, if you haven't
noticed. And her speech has gotten worse with time. I don't know how
much longer she's got. You can tell she suffers a lot. Some nights
she has nightmares, but can't scream or call for me so I have to
sleep nearby incase she does start to toss and turn. She's stopped
crying as well. It's almost like she's just... there. She's not even
living life anymore. It's heartbreaking." Hope nodded and
watched as Samara stuttered out another line.
Inside the room, she noticed a number of portraits done. Since photography did not exist yet, everything was painted. There were many of Samara running around with other children or laughing or playing with a throwing disk. Hope's eyes narrowed. How could this be the same child she was seeing in Smeagol's lap?
"Smeagol," called the mother softly. "You've a visitor." Hope stepped in smiling briefly. Smeagol smiled and gestured her to come in. Samara looked up at her with her blank face and Hope sat down next to Smeagol.
"Samara," he said softly to the child. "This is Hope-Anne." Samara opened her mouth and tried to speak.
"H-h-h-hello.... H-hope-A-a-a-anne." Hope smiled and patted Samara's back.
"Hello Samara," she said softly. "Nice to meet you." Smeagol smiled at them both and turned to Hope.
"What brings you here?"
"Oh, just wondering where you were. It's okay isn't it?"
"Of coarse. I was just finishing up anyway."
"All right." She said smiling. They left fifteen minutes later, after Smeagol was paid and they had said goodbye to Samara and her mother. They went home and had dinner with Tabby and left later on to go by the river.
"Play me a song," said Smeagol, handing her the guitar. Hope giggled.
"I don't know if I can think of another one. A happy one anyway. Most of the songs I know are sad and depressing."
"Then play me a sad song. Bring tears to my eyes." She chuckled with him and then thought for a moment.
"Very well," she said, taking the guitar from him.
It was past sunset and the moonlight provided enough light for her to play. She had been amazed at how large the moon looked and how beautiful the stars were. The light sparkled off the river and outlined her silhouette. Smeagol secretly thought of how beautiful she looked to him, and then waited for her to play.
Alone as I sit and watch the trees
Won't you tell me if I scream
Will they bend down and listen to me?
And it makes me wonder
If I'll know the words when you come
Or will you laugh at me
Or will I run?
Little boy says to me
"Where you going now, girl?"
I said, "I don't know where I'm going boy
I only know where I'm from"
And it makes me wonder
If the stars shine when my eyes close
Or does my brother's heart cry
I don't know
I'm a stranger in my home
Now that everybody's gone
Someone please talk to me
'cause I feel you cry
And you're sitting with her
And I know I'll never see you again
Lying down in Charleston under the Carolina sky
You see I'm tired of feeling this pain
I'm tired of living my own little lie
And it makes me wonder
When I see you in my dreams
Does it mean anything?
Are you trying to talk to me?
I'm a stranger in my home
Tell me, are you feeling alone?
Someone tell me what to do
'cause I'm feeling strong
And I wonder how you feel
Does she realize my pain is for real
I see you in my dreams
And I wonder if you're looking down at me
And smiling right now
I wanna know if it's true
When she looks at me
Won't you tell me?
Does she realize she came down here
And took you too soon?
She strummed for a while, humming out a part that had no words. Smeagol listened, impressed even more. Even though the song was sad, it sounded more like something she would sing. It seemed to fit her. She often looked numb or sad when she thought he wasn't looking. He often wondered why, but decided not to ask. It was none of his business.
And now my days are short and my nights are long
I lay down with memories that keep me going on,
Going on
And it makes me wonder as I sit and stare
Will I see your face again?
Tell me, do you care?
I'm a stranger in my home
Living life on my own
Right now I just can't see
'cause I'm feeling weak
And my soul begins to bleed
And no one's listening to me
Not even the trees
(song by Hootie and the Blowfish)
She strummed a few more chords and then stopped, searching his face for a response.
"Well done," he said softly. "Very sad, but well done."
"Thanks," she said softly. "It's one of my favorites." Smeagol nodded and took the guitar from her, strumming while he spoke.
"So how long have you been alone?"
"A month," she lied. "Why?"
"Just curious. Is it hard?"
"Sometimes, but looking back, it's been one of the best choices I've made." He nodded and then made a face as he messed up a chord. "So, Samara's got a brain problem?"
"Yes. It's very sad, she's such a bright little girl. It makes me wish I could do something for her."
"I know. Me too."
"There are times when she throws tantrums and can't control it. It makes her mother go into hysterics, trying to make it stop."
"Have you ever seen them?"
"Yes. She was kicking and screaming and even ripping her hair out. I didn't know what to do so I let her mother deal with it."
"It's usually best to walk away and wait till they stop," she said softly. "I speak from personal experience."
"It's very difficult to ignore though."
"Oh, I know it is. But it's best."
"I guess I'll do that then next time." She shook her head and drew her knees under her chin. "It's not fair. A girl her age should be running around and having fun, not feeling completely blank."
"It's hard to watch."
"I don't know how you can do it. I'd be an emotional basketcase if I had to do that."
"I know. It's hard for me to deal with sometimes. There were days when I'd come home, just angry that she has to suffer on like this. I wonder why God doesn't just make it stop and let her be a child."
"God," muttered Hope. "Do you believe there's a God?"
"I suppose there is."
"Then where the hell is he?" asked Hope, a hint of anger in her voice. "Where was he when my parents would fight late at night when I was four and I'd sit in the furthest corner in my room, crying? Where was he when my best friend killed herself? Where was he when I'd cry myself to sleep for so long, just wondering what if I had been there to stop her? Where was he when some jerk at school said it was my fault? Why'd he let her die? Where is he when kids like Samara are born? If he was real, don't you think he'd give a damn about us?" She stopped and had to pass her sleeve over her eyes. Smeagol listened to her and soon understood why she was the way she was. He couldn't quite understand everything she said, but had the idea. Slowly, he placed an arm over her shoulders.
"I didn't know," he muttered. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose your best friend." Hope immediately thought You will too soon...
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I barely know you and already I'm cracking up. I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut."
"No. It's good to let it out. It would have come out sooner or later anyway."
"I hated it," she whispered. "I can still remember it..."
(two months earlier...)
Hope came over to visit her friend, Alicia, like she always did after school. Alicia was sitting on her bed, reading when Hope had come into the room.
"Hey," she said, dumping her backpack on the floor. "What's up?"
"Nothing," said Alicia weakly. Hope had noticed the shakiness in her voice.
"Alicia? What's wrong?" Alicia was silent for a moment and then threw down her book.
"Eric broke up with me," she sobbed.
"What?" gasped Hope. "But you two were so close together!"
"Yeah, well, not after he found out..."
"Found out what?" asked Hope.
"I'm pregnant," she said, more tears falling. Hope's eyes widened.
"You mean you two...?"
"No!" shouted Alicia. "I told you, I'm waiting till my wedding night."
"Then who?" Alicia shook her head.
"I'm not supposed to tell," she wept.
"What do you mean? Are you in trouble? What's going on? You can tell me. I won't tell anyone, I swear." Alicia peered down the hall and then closed her bedroom door.
"You swear?"
"Yes. Now talk to me. What's going on?"
"It's my dad."
"What about him?"
"He did this."
"What?!" Alicia began to cry and then managed to speak again.
"He's been... hurting me... since I was six." Hope was at a loss for words. She had no idea what to say with Alicia crying like this.
"Does your mother know?"
"Obviously not. He told me he'd kill me and her both if I told anyone. You cannot tell anyone I told you! I don't care what he does to me. I just don't want him to hurt my mom."
"Okay, I won't tell... oh my God!" She soon found her own tears falling and she embraced Alicia and they cried for a while.
She stayed longer than normal that day and went home. She woke in the middle of the night with the sound of her cell phone ringing.
"Hello?" she asked.
"Hope... I can't do it. He's going to be in here any minute! I can't let him hurt me again."
"Should I call the police?"
"No!!!"
"Then tell me what to do! Please, Alicia."
"Oh my god! I can't. I'm going to kill myself." Click!
Hope heard the tone and threw her phone across the room and threw on a jacket and ran to Alicia's house, not even bothering to put shoes on.
When she got to the house, she ran to the bedroom window, thanking god that Alicia's room was on the first floor. She found a window open and climbed through. Alicia was laying on the bed completely pale. There was a large pool of blood surrounding her and her heart was not beating. It was too late.
Hope held Alicia's body in her arms and wept. The door behind her creaked open and standing there was Alicia's father, bare-chested with pajama pants on.
"You won't hurt her!" screamed Hope. "You jack ass! You killed her! You killed her!"
The father looked stunned and then left, returning quickly with a gun in his hands.
Hope screamed and he pinned her to the wall.
"You've got one big mouth on you. But not for much longer!" She screamed as his heavy form pressed on her and the tip of the gun pressed harder to her throat. Luckily the police came barging in right at that moment. Alicia's mother had heard Hope's screams and called the police quickly.
Hope wiped her tears away as she retold the story. She had to change it a little so it would make sense to Smeagol, but he understood.
"Oh, Arda," he muttered. "That must hurt you badly."
"It does," she replied, trying to stop her tears. "I miss her so much."
"I don't blame you!" Smeagol embraced her comfortingly and she cried softly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I've never told anyone, not even my parents."
"How could they not know?"
"I asked the men that saved me to keep it quiet. I know for a fact that they wouldn't help me at all. They never do."
"I'm sorry." She cried a little longer.
"It's all my fault. If I had only gotten there faster or called for help sooner or something..."
"No. Hope, if you were about to take your life and your friend had just found out and was running there and made it too late, would it be her fault?" Hope was silent and finally shook her head.
"No," she whispered.
"Then forgive yourself. Let yourself heal."
"It's so hard," she whispered.
"Then let me help, or at least try to." She nodded. "You know, Samara may come in handy for this. You felt useless because you couldn't help your friend when she needed it? Well now's your chance. You can work with me to help Samara now." Hope thought about this and nodded.
"I'll try."
"Good." He looked up at the sky and sighed. "We should probably go home now. It's getting late."
"Okay," she said, raising herself to her feet. Smeagol put his arm around her and they walked home silently.
