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It should have been quiet in the class for at least the next forty minutes or so of the period, while everyone had his or her head bent down toward the stack of papers on the desk in front of them.
Some students even had their arms curled protectively around their exam papers. Some stared off into the distance as if something only seen by them would suddenly give them the answers they were so desperately seeking for. Others were scribbling fast and vigorously across the sheets of paper, lest the thoughts melted away and they forgot what it was they wanted to write down.
So it was, when Daryl, sitting at his desk, balancing his pen between his index finger and his thumb, trying to come up with an answer for question 2B (iv), saw Samantha walk into the room and it was not so quiet anymore.
All of a sudden, he could hear his own heart beating wildly in his chest.
The teacher lumbered his six-foot, heavy built frame over to the front of the class from his leaning spot against the back of the classroom, where he could watch each one of the students with a suspicious eye. When the teacher reached her, he leaned closer to her and she whispered something close to his ear. He frowned briefly as she spoke and then he moved away from her and nodded.
Daryl dragged his jumper from his body, suddenly feeling too hot in the over-warmed room. Pushing his finger in between his collar and his neck he pulled at it a little, and then, after glancing around the room while fumbling his fingers in under his tie, he undid the top button before he wiggled the tie a bit looser. Totally against the rules, but he needed to find the evading answer to this question, and he could not think if he did not feel comfortable, and now it felt as if he was overheating.
Samantha walked past his desk to get to hers, and an envelope dropped from her bag onto the floor.
Glancing down at it, he was not entirely sure why he did it, but he moved his black Van’s and hid the envelope under the sole of his shoe.
Exactly thirty-five minutes later, the bell rang and alas, the answer to that one question had still not popped into his head. He bet tonight it would flash as bright as a neon light in his mind, most probably at the most inappropriate moment.
Samantha had to walk past his desk again and he watched her until she disappeared through the doorway. She was a pretty girl with a splendid body, her long dark hair was sometimes, most times, a little untidy. Her large green eyes had shadows beneath them, he supposed from weariness, and today there was something about her that interested him more than usual.
They had known each other for some time now and they maintained a pleasant, rather cool relationship. They might, on occasion, hold a brief conversation about mainly the weather, but never showed any interest in each other.
Usually, Daryl knew when a girl liked him more than just wanting to be his friend, and so he never wasted his time going after girls he knew did not like him. He had, as some might say, an unfair advantage.
He stood up from his desk and leaned down to grab his bag from the floor. The white rectangular envelope was still laying on the floor, but now it was stencilled with greyish squares from the bottom of his shoe. Picking it up, he held it up to the light but could not really make out what was hidden on the inside and turning it around he noticed it was sealed. He did all of this without conscious thought, and when he realised, he was scrutinising the envelope closely and he had a strange need to know what was inside the envelope, it shocked him a little.
He tossed his backpack across his shoulder, folded the envelope in half while pushing it into his blazer pocket. Lifting the exam paper from his desk, he turned to walk to the front of the classroom. Then. Bam! Murphy's Law. The answer to question 2B (iv) hit him square between the eyes.
With a feeling of disappointment, because he could not think of the answer earlier when it mattered, he added his stack of papers to the pile already on the teacher's desk.
*
THE JUNE AFTERNOON, although bright, was chilly and he paused at the exit from the school as his eyes scanned the street and parking area already teeming with traffic, and he knew the buses would all be full by now.
The big glass door swung open behind him and Samantha came to a stop beside him. She asked, “Are you walking?”
“Deciding if I should get the bus,” he replied without looking at her.
She touched his arm. “You never get the bus; you can walk with me. Come.”
As they started walking away from the school building, he pushed his hands deep into his pockets. His hand brushed against the edge of the envelope, but he pushed it from his mind. He did not want her to know he had picked it up, he did not want to give it back, either.
As they walked, they talked about the weather, the exams, nothing personal.
He lived not far from school, in Queen Street, and he supposed one could call it shabby civilised, with its facing rows of terraced houses, peeling paint and always drawn curtains in every window facing the street.
As they walked closer to his house, the front door flung open to allow Chris to emerge with their dog. There were no gardens in front of the houses on his street, and all the doors opened onto the sidewalk.
Chris peered at them as he crossed the street on his way to the park, two streets away. “Good afternoon, Daryl,” he called when he recognised Daryl and stopped walking. Jack, their dog, barked a brief greeting. Chris turned and came sauntering back to them.
Daryl could see him turn his charm button to high when he reached them.
Chris faced Samantha, smiling. “His brother, Chris,” he said as he pointed his finger in Daryl’s direction. He then pushed his hands deep into his trouser pockets and in the process, his biceps flexed, and the material pulled tighter around his muscled legs.
The stance made him appear more masculine than Daryl cared to admit, and he turned away from them. “See ya,” he said to Samantha.
She lifted her hand in a wave.
GOOSE BUMPS ERUPTED all over Samantha’s arms, but she refused to shiver or admit that any of this fazed her. Her plan was to convince Daryl to go with her to the park but now he just left her here with his brother whom she did not even know, but she pretended to be friendly.
She decided she would rather stand here talking to a stranger than go home. In fact, she was too afraid to go home after this morning. Her chest burned with a feeling of trepidation.
When she left for school, late as always, her stepfather was already crazy drunk and spewing curse words from his flapping lips. She had wondered if he had ever gone to bed the night before, or if he had just drunk his way through the dark hours.
However, Daryl did not seem interested in spending more time with her than necessary and soon she would have no choice but to go home and face whatever was waiting for her.
The sound of the traffic from Park Avenue started fading and she could not shake the feeling of being watched.
Nervously she looked around.
They only lived five streets down and even though her stepfather hardly left the dim lounge in their house, it could be him keeping an eye on her. If he saw her talking to Chris it would cause even more trouble for her mum.
*
SAMANTHA WAS JUST AN ordinary girl, so his sudden feelings of seeing her talking to Chris was unexplained. These feelings spindled its way around in his chest, slowly hooking its thorns into the edges of his heart, nudging into his soul.
Try as he may, to ignore these feelings, he could not, and he knew. He knew Chris fancied Samantha. He could feel it even though he could not describe the feeling exactly, but he just knew stuff, without being told. It was a knowing that went way beyond intuition or gut feelings.
He had never really felt guilty about the way he was aware of another person's feelings. Perhaps he should feel guilty because maybe people did not want him to know how they felt, but he could not help it, really. It was a curse or a blessing, whichever way he wanted to feel about it at any given time of any granted day.
He was used to the way other's feelings of happiness or sadness caused a hollow yearning sensation in his stomach when the muscles of his heart automatically contracted. Most people could do it; they just did not realise they had the ability.
It was like when a person sees someone they had not seen for a long time and even though they had changed, got older, looked different, they still recognised each other not by the way they looked but by the way they felt toward each other. It was a feeling, a feeling of familiarity, of knowing.
When a person met someone for the first time and felt an intense emotion of love, love at first sight or instantly disliked another person or just knew the other person was very dangerous and one had to be cautious in the presence of this other dodgy person, it was a connection Daryl felt with the world around him, all the time.
This was all very normal for him, and usually quite easy to ignore. However, for some reason, at this very moment, his own feelings for Samantha were stronger and it was harder to disregard.
From the window of his bedroom, he watched as Samantha ran her fingers through her hair. He watched as Chris stepped closer to Samantha on the sidewalk down below and started leaning closer to her to whisper something in her ear, to let his whispered breath brush against the curve of her neck.
Daryl fought back a grimace.
As if Chris could feel eyes burning into the top of his head, Chris glanced up to Daryl where he stood framed in his bedroom window. He met his gaze for a second and then looked back at Samantha.
Samantha looked up as well, too quickly for Daryl to step away from the window.
Their eyes locked for an instant.
Her green eyes were framed by long dark lashes and they looked up at him inquisitively.
He knew her face, knew the shape, knew every line. He had seen her many times before this moment, so why did he only realise now just how beautiful she was?
Taking a deep breath, deep enough to lift his shoulders, he let his ability to know how she was feeling bridge the gap between them. Unseen to anyone, his soul reached for hers, like invisible fingers it reached closer, not to touch her, but to feel the vibrations. It was not something he could explain. It was just something he could do.
Quickly he took a step back. He felt nothing from her. Not even a hint of a feeling. He had never been interested in gauging how much of her feelings he could perceive, and now that he wanted to, he realised he could not.
His eyes darted back to her again and he felt a little unsure. This not knowing how another person felt had never happened to him before.
She was still looking up at him and again, his gaze locked with hers.
A warm red blush spread across her cheeks before she looked back at Chris, still standing beside her, talking a mile a second.
The emotions on her face were clear as if he could read them from the pages of a book, but even though the expression in her eyes said maybe more than she wanted to reveal, he could not feel the way she felt. Nothing at all.
An uncomfortable feeling crept through Daryl.
He felt the same as he always did, so was there something wrong with him?
Usually, he had the ability to sense other people’s emotions clearly, and generally, he had the ability to imagine what someone else might be thinking or feeling, and he was always right. He could immerse himself in another person’s life and know what turmoil or happiness they were experiencing
Burdened with a heightened sense of empathy, he was affected by other people’s energies, and he had an innate ability to intuitively feel and perceive others. Essentially, he was like a large dam-like structure, collecting all the accumulated karma, emotions and energy from others. He could feel everything, soak up every insignificant thing everyone was feeling as it passed through them.
Why did he feel nothing at all from Samantha?
Then, he felt a sudden strange impulse, one he did not clearly understand. It had something to do with the way Chris was using his charms on her, the moves he was making on her which she was unaware of and he felt an urge to rush from his bedroom and down the narrow stairs, out the front door to where they stood on the side-walk.
He wanted to step in between them, to ward off his brother’s advances on her and to protect her from the darker thoughts of Chris' mind.
Maybe he would have wanted to do this with any other girl, not just Samantha, but Samantha looked sad most of the time and he did not want Chris to hurt her.
It occurred to him that if she felt sad most of the time, her emotions would have been more profound, so why then had he never taken them on as his own?
It was starting to seriously irritate him that he could not connect with her emotions. Chris' emotions were bouncing all over the place and he could feel them as clearly as he could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands.
“Coffee?” His mum asked from his bedroom door.
He pulled his absorbed glare away from Samantha and Chris and when he looked away from them to his mum standing in the doorway to his room, he felt a sense of relief.
He did not want to suddenly be interested in Samantha just because she was the only girl whose emotions and feelings he could not decipher and he was one hundred percent certain that once he managed to connect with her, it would be the same as with every other girl, and girls falling for him so effortlessly had become tiresome and boring about four years ago.
“No. I'm okay. Thanks, Mum,” he said as he stepped away from the window.
THE NEXT MORNING EARLY, as he was walking down the corridor at school to his A-levels Science class, he was preparing himself for the boredom.
He did not feel emotionally connected to Science, and he was doubtful Mr Scott would be able to excite him with the monotone cadence of his voice.
Mr Scott was a boring man, with thinning hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses always threatening to slip from his shiny nose. He had never had the ability to grab and hold Daryl’s attention for very long.
In the empty classroom, Daryl settled into his chair.
The room slowly filled as everyone else sauntered in and he leaned back in his chair as he waited for the class to start.
Samantha walked into the classroom with Annie, a girl he dated for a couple of days, a few months ago.
As they walked past his desk, Annie gave Daryl a scornful glare while Samantha only gave him a quick glance.
He could feel Annie’s loathing radiate off her and all her hate was focussed on him. For a second, it hurt but he quickly pushed it aside. Annie was like all the other girls. He liked her, sure, but he did not like her in a way where he thought he could love her. She approached him first, oozed charm and adoration, and his ego bathed in it. It was easy for him to always have a girlfriend because he could feel the way a girl felt about him, it was like his own superpower. Never had he bothered with girls, whom he knew, felt, was not attracted to him.
This thought brought his mind back to Samantha.
Usually, he would have greeted Samantha casually. No big deal. Today, he wished he could say something. Something clever, but whatever he said would probably just sound stupid. He should say something. Say what?
Even though he felt Annie's abhorrence smash into him like a twenty-ton lorry into a brick wall, he felt nothing from Samantha. The empty space where her feelings were supposed to be irked and frustrated him.
When everyone was seated, he noticed that, once again, the desk beside him was empty which meant Steve had decided not to attend class. It was becoming a regular occurrence.
Mr Scott cleared his throat and instructed them, “In groups of two...”
Daryl put his hand up to inform Mr Scott, who had obviously not noticed Steve's absence, he could not form a group of two.
Mr Scott glanced at Daryl and then his eyes darted to the back of the classroom. Without a second thought, he asked, “Samantha, is Beth late?”
Samantha replied, “Absent.”
Still talking to her, Mr Scott instructed, “Move forward and sit with Daryl.”
Automatically, Daryl started clearing what would be her side of the desk, shoving his books into a pile in front of him.
At first, he grimaced. He was not used to not being able to feel another person’s emotions, but perhaps he could try again when she was nearer to him. When she sat mere inches away from him, she would be closer and it would be easier for him to reach out to her, to feel what it was she was feeling.
She stopped next to his desk and smiled. Her glance met his, and he saw himself reflected in her eyes.
Nothing could describe the way he suddenly felt.
In an instant, he felt his own emotions rush through him, and for a moment it felt as if he was broadcasting his feelings on a fibre-optic Wi-Fi connection to everyone on planet Earth. He did not care. The room full of witnesses who now knew what he felt for Samantha became non-existent. They all disappeared into an abyss of nothingness and was erased from his thoughts as if they never, ever existed. His knuckles turned pale as his hand gripped the edge of the desk.
The classroom door slammed shut and her eyes looked away from his, and then, just like that, he was able to think again.
When Samantha saw the expression on his face, her cheeks turned a pale shade of pink as she sat down in the chair next to him, her movements were stiff and awkward.
He leaned away from her, turning his eyes down to the book on the table in front of him and he felt a sudden fierce pain wash through him. What was this? All his life he avoided feeling emotion too deeply because it hurt. It caused him physical pain and now, a girl he has known for years, a girl he never felt anything for or never felt anything from, suddenly was causing him to feel more than he wanted to. The feeling stabbed him in the pit of his stomach as it threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to decipher the feeling. Was it sadness? Hurt? Sorrow? Depression?
Samantha let her hair fall across her shoulder.
His previous irritation the day before of not being able to determine how she felt, not being able to determine her deepest wishes and desires, did not compare to the anger he now felt. Anger at himself for not being able to get past a barrier between them he had never encountered with anyone else. Angry about the way she was making him feel. He clung to being furious as if it was a lifeline.
He made it through the hour of Science this way and heard Mr Scott say something about working on some kind of project.
As soon as the bell rang, Samantha peeked at him sideways and he could feel the unjustified anger radiate off him as he met her gaze. She stood up from her chair quickly, and without looking in his direction again, she grabbed onto the strap of her satchel.
He stayed seated and watched her leave the room.
Being an Empath, he hated being in public places. All those feelings swirling around him, creeping into his soul, filling him with turbulent troubled emotions was overwhelming. He was prone to mood swings because he adapted to the emotions of the people surrounding him, and thus he avoided walking down the corridors at school when they were crowded. The only class he would arrive in early was the first class of the day. At all the other classes he would only arrive seconds before the teachers could lock him out.
Feeling the emotions of others and then taking them on as his own was his way of life. He had been like this since birth, since the moment he could feel and express feeling. Sometimes he could even feel emotions from a great distance away, especially if he was emotionally connected to that person, and sometimes people judged these abilities incorrectly by assuming he had a psychic ability, but there was nothing paranormal about him.
EVEN WHEN SAMANTHA blocked her ears, she could still hear the screams. Like glue, the screeching had stuck themselves to the walls. Even when everything had gone quiet in the place where she lived, which she could never call home, the sound of shrieks and angry words still echoed in the stillness.
The first time she heard them was not long after her mum had met him and brought him home. He moved in straight away. Who moves into someone else’s house the first night they meet?
Her mum had taught her to speak her mind, so she had walked down the stairs when she could not ignore his loud voice for a second longer and asked him not to scream so loudly.
Her mum had looked up to where she was leaning over the bannister, and her mum shook her head. Samantha saw her mum's lips were pressed together so tightly they had turned white and her mum quickly made her way to Samantha’s little frame.
As her mum walked with her back up the stairs to her room, Samantha felt a thrill of fear as an idea so horrible, so terrifying filled her entire body. She was young then and she could not understand why this man frightened her. It was as if she knew. Just knew he was bad news.
She had promised herself she would find out why he scared her so much because she used to be a brave little girl. Every night as she whispered her wishes to the ceiling of her quiet bedroom, she promised her mum she would protect her against this evil man.
She believed her mum must really love him to bring him home to live with them, and she wanted her mum to be happy. Samantha knew she would always hate him. He was the one who made her feel as if she was nothing. He was the cause of her suppressing all her feelings, hiding them away, boxing them up because she discovered quickly when a person had no feelings, they could not be hurt. Feelings made people weak, made them vulnerable.
PERHAPS, IF HE AVOIDED Samantha, there was no need for him to wonder every time he saw her why he could not connect with her, why he could not feel her feelings. Why was she the only person, truth be told, only living being, on this entire planet whose feelings he could not feel? He wished there was someone he could ask for advice, but at the same time, he was glad nobody knew what he was capable of doing.
If he could avoid Samantha, if he could manage not to make her think of him as a pathetic lovesick puppy, while he did not know what she felt for him, then no one would ever have to know. He had a sense of knowing he could never go back to just being as casual with her as he was only yesterday.
Thinking back, he could not believe he had never noticed he could not feel her feelings.
Something happened.
Yesterday, when he saw her walking into the classroom, when suddenly his heart started palpitating in his chest and his blood pressure increased tenfold. It was then.
Something changed.
The shrill bell announced the end of the school day, and he rushed down the corridor to Mr Scott's classroom. He kept his eyes to the ground and looked at the feet of all the students milling around him. If he looked up he would see the hurt in the eyes of a girl when her boyfriend snubbed her, he would experience the pain of the glance of unrequited love, he would feel the anguish of failing a subject, he would feel ashamed that his body was not magazine, Photoshop perfect, he would feel the aggression of a bully as he or she pursued their victim, he would feel anger, contempt and love. He would feel all these things and more, all at once, all simultaneously as it rushed through him.
Also, keeping his head down would keep him from seeing Samantha should their paths cross.
“Mr Scott?” Daryl called his attention as he entered the classroom.
“Daryl. What can I do for you?” Mr Scott asked.
Daryl knew how to be persuasive. All it took was a little flash of whichever emotion he wanted someone else to feel, to emit the feeling from him to them. Comfortable. Relaxed. Pleasant. Peaceful. Pleasure.
He stopped close to Mr Scott and saw he was tired, so it would be easy. “I was wondering if I could change my partner for the Science Fair project,” he said in a convincing voice.
“Sure. I cannot see why not.” Mr Scott took a step back, looking a little pale and overwhelmed. “Is there a problem with Samantha?”
Daryl toned down the coercion he was enveloping Mr Scott in. “Not at all, it’s just that I’d feel more comfortable waiting for Steve.”
“Steve is more off school than he’s at school.” Mr Scott’s lips puckered as he considered this. “Actually, Daryl, I really thought you and Samantha would make a perfect team for this specific project. If you and Samantha partnered and Steve gets back to school, he can fall in with you and Samantha. I'll let Beth join Tammy and Sarah. Then, when Steve is off again, he cannot disrupt the programme or anyone else's chances of winning the Fair.”
“I'll be able to manage on my own on the days Steve's not in.”
“I know you could, Daryl. But the regulations this year are for groups of two or more.”
“Could I drop out of the Science Fair?”
Mr Scott’s mouth dropped open. “It counts toward your end of year results.”
“I’ll make up for it in the exams.”
“Maybe you should talk to your parents about this first.”
Daryl took a small step closer to Mr Scott and dialled up his emotions. “Please, Mr Scott.”
“Well, maybe... I could see if...” He eyes shifted away from Daryl to a movement at the door. “Samantha?”
Daryl moved his head slowly to look over his shoulder. Samantha was standing in the open doorway, hugging her textbooks tightly to her chest. Quickly he said, “It's okay. Thank you, anyway, Mr Scott.” Spinning around on his heels, he rushed from the room, making sure not to make eye contact with Samantha.
He did not stop until he was walking through his front door, up the thirteen stairs to his bedroom and fell onto his bed. All the way home, he tried hard to control his breathing, to relax his body, but his chest was heaving up and down, his heart was hammering away in his chest so fast he could hear it in his ears.
“Daryl?” His mum asked with alarm in her voice.
Not looking at her and keeping his eyes focused on the ceiling above his bed, he just shook his head.
“What the hell happened to you?” Chris demanded as he stormed past his mum into the room.
Instead of answering, Daryl grabbed his earphones from his bedside table and shoved them a little too hard into his ears.
He had to drown out every thought in his head, and right now the only thing that would achieve this was loud music, as loud as possible.
DARYL LEANED BACK AGAINST the red brick wall in their small, narrow courtyard and tried hard not to let them in, to clear his thoughts, but dark thoughts always came in uninvited. Taking a deep breath, he tried to redirect his thoughts to his surroundings. His mum tried, every spring, to liven the courtyard up a little.
Walking out of their kitchen door, the only view was the two-storey wall of the next-door neighbour's house and if he wanted to see the sky, he had to crane his neck to look up.
A bee buzzed around the pale-yellow daffodils in hanging baskets fixed to the wall and a tiny sliver of sunlight was warming him from the inside out. Slowly, his skin started to match the temperature of the surrounding air.
Looking up, layers of sheer clouds criss-crossed across the rectangular shape of blue sky above him. It was a peaceful sight and it would have been even more peaceful if he had been able to really feel it.
It was not getting any better.
A whole night had passed and the feeling that began as a little seed in the pit of his stomach was extending upwards to his chest. He could feel it growing like a weed inside himself.
When he stared up at the sky, he could not see the profound way it sometimes seemed as if he could see all the way to the exosphere surrounding the earth. All he could see now was her face.
The kitchen door opened, and he sighed as Jack came bounding out the door straight toward him with his big sloppy tongue lolling between his lips. The dog launched himself into the air and then all Daryl was aware of was dog hair and dog spit.
He sighed again but did not move to get out from under the dog. The darkness under Jack did not make any difference. He still saw her face.
“Daryl?” His mum's voice asked concerned.
Gently he pushed Jack aside.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn't realise you were out here. Come, Jack, stop annoying Daryl.”
“It's okay, Mum, Jack can stay out here.” He started stroking the dog’s head and the dog started to relax, settling down next to Daryl and resting his head on his knee.
“I thought you had gone to school already.” His mum added worried, “How long have you been out here?”
“Five-ish. I couldn't sleep.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why?”
Daryl sat up trying not to disturb Jack, who had closed his eyes. What bliss it would be to just close one's eyes and to fall asleep, to let every thought and worry fall away into a dark chasm of blissful sleep. “It’s nothing important,” he dismissed his mum.
“Girl troubles?” His mum guessed.
Daryl laughed a short sound.
“I’ve never known you to have girl problems,” she agreed with a smile and shrugged her shoulders as if she could not understand the enormity of his troubles.
She was right, of course. So, when did he become such a coward?
“You'll figure it out,” she said. “No matter what it is, or who it is, you’ll face it because that is who you are.”
The feelings of reassurance and support he felt radiating off her were as certain as her words. He tried to embrace her feelings, to convince himself he could face anything head on, even not knowing what Samantha was feeling. “Thanks, Mum. I needed to hear that.”
She turned back into the kitchen and he heard her switch on the kettle.
He woke Jack up and then got up to his feet. If he was going to go to school today, he had to start getting ready.
*
WHEN HE WALKED DOWN the school hall, he wondered if it was just a day ago that this long, drab passage had seemed so boring to him?
Today his mental state was stretched tight. His feelings were hyper-alert and he scanned every sound, every sight, every movement of the air touching his skin, every feeling.
He tried not to pay attention to the few students who were already standing in front of their lockers, laughing and sharing stories from the wild party on the weekend or the new series they were all into now. When he walked closer to Samantha's locker, he did not allow himself to look up from the floor to where he knew she was standing. Even if that was all he wanted to do.
“Good morning,” he heard Samantha say in a quiet, clear voice. Her voice seemed to echo in his ears, but he knew it was only because he wanted to hear it so badly.
He could not help glancing in her direction.
She was staring at him, the blood slowly fading from her face.
Quickly he looked away, dropping his eyes to the ground below his feet.
He felt a little sick.
“Morning. You feeling okay?” He heard another voice ask.
“I feel a little sick.” Her voice was lower, but still very clear.
Why did it bother him? The protective concern he felt from Steve for her. It was not his business if Steve felt anxious for her. Maybe everyone felt protective over her. Even he felt, since yesterday, the instinctive need to protect her. As he turned the corner, his eyes looked back at her still standing at her locker and they focused on her piercing gaze. She looked away quickly and said something to Steve.
What was she feeling?
His frustration seemed to be getting more intense, rather than evaporating as he wrongly predicted it would.
In class, he sat down in his chair and waited as the rest of the students filed in silently one by one or in loud, laughing groups. When Samantha walked into the class, followed closely by Steve, he tried hard to sense her feelings.
His ability had always come to him naturally, without asking. He had never had to try before. He concentrated now, trying to break through whatever protective cover surrounded her, but there was nothing.
“Daryl is staring at you with a crazy look in his eyes,” Steve whispered to Samantha, loud enough for Daryl to hear, adding a guffaw.
Daryl did not look away. He was still concentrating on her, trying to feel something. His absorbed focus was not helping at all.
“I don’t think he likes me,” she whispered back. “We've never really been the best of friends, but recently he has been acting differently toward me. As if suddenly, he cannot stand the sight of me.”
“He's just weird,” Steve reassured her. “And he’s still staring at you.”
“Stop looking at him,” she told him.
Steve laughed but looked away from Daryl anyway.
Samantha did not look at Daryl again for the rest of the period. Even though her body was shifted slightly in his direction, she kept her eyes on the teacher in front of the room.
AFTER THE BELL RANG to announce the end of Maths, he stayed in his seat. Everyone else hurried out, eager to leave.
Their next class was Science. Would he go to class and sit beside her? Even though Steve was back today, would Mr Scott want them to start working on the Science Fair project?
He decided he might as well get it over with even though he felt indecisive. He wanted to figure her out. Wanted to find out what had changed between them. He realised he wanted to sit beside her, and he wanted her to look at him, and he wanted to hear her speak to him.
In the end, curiosity got the better of him. Truth be told, he was gob-smacked he could not feel her emotions. This made him angry because he had decided not being able to figure her out would not make him interested in her as more than the acquaintance she had always been, but here he was—very interested.
He wanted to know what she was feeling.
Pushing away from the desk, he stood up and walked out of the class. At the door of the Science class, he paused briefly and took a deep, reassuring breath.
As always, he arrived just in time for the class to begin.
He glanced toward Samantha's desk but noticed Steve sitting next to Beth in the back, so he quickly darted his gaze to his own desk. Samantha was already sitting there, rummaging through her bag.
He kept his eyes on the ground as he walked to the desk and pulled his chair back to sit down next to her.
She did not look up, but her hand pulled a book from her bag and then she turned away from him to put her bag on the floor beside her feet.
“Morning,” he said in a quiet voice, projecting a feeling of calmness toward her.
She looked at him startled.
As he stared into her eyes, he realised the anger he felt toward her had evaporated.
Her cheeks warmed up with a shade of pale pink, but she did not return his greeting.
He kept his eyes on her dark, troubled eyes, trying to read them, to see what she was feeling rather than try to sense her feelings.
“You look sad today,” he said. What a stupid thing to say.
She looked at him confused. “How can you tell?” She asked with a trembling voice.
The sorrow in her eyes made him feel guilty for being angry with her, for letting her feel his resentment for her. It was not as if he resented her personally, it was his own incompetence at not being able to feel her feelings that he resented. She looked so vulnerable.
“Why?” he asked, really wanting to know.
She frowned. “It doesn't matter,” she said.
“It does,” he insisted.
The look in her eyes was torn between embarrassment and confusion.
“Open your books on page seventy-seven,” Mr Scott said loudly from the front of the class and she looked away from him.
“Sorry,” Daryl said lamely and started to open his book, looking for page seventy-seven.
What was she thinking now? He glanced at her, but her eyes were fixed firmly on Mr Scott. He was baffled by the mayhem and turmoil she was bringing into his life. Although he had no idea what she felt for him, he knew he felt something for her.
When the bell rang at the end of the period, he said, “Nice day, isn't it?” The weather was always a safe topic, and something she and he had discussed casually on numerous occasions.
She stared back at him. “Yeah,” she said, standing up from her seat.
He wanted to reach out to her, to stop her from walking away from him too quickly. Before he could filter the thoughts in his head, they left his mouth, “You look really unhappy.”
“You have no idea,” she said in a low voice.
“What's wrong, then?” He asked, not realising his tone was too insistent, not casual enough for an everyday conversation. His question sounded rude and nosey.
“It’s complicated.” Her eyes glossed over and she blinked them quickly.
He nearly imploded with the need to know.
“You can tell me,” he insisted.
She looked down at her hands.
He wanted to move closer to her, to force her to look at him so that he could look into her eyes. To see what she was thinking, what she was feeling.
She looked up suddenly, straight into his eyes and it was a relief to be able to see the emotions in her eyes again. She scoffed. “Do you really want to know the truth?” Sadness washed through her eyes.
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t interested,” he said. His voice was gentle. Her sadness made him wish there was something he could do to make her feel better.
She sighed heavily.
“So?”
The sadness in her eyes intensified. “I have to go,” she said. Her voice had a hard edge to it.
He did not want her to go. He had known her for such a long time, yet did not know her at all, but now he wanted to know everything there was to know about her.
She laughed as she shoved past him, but there was no amusement in the sound.
He was not ready to let this conversation end. The sadness in her eyes bothered him but he did not want her to think he was too pushy or nosey or even a bully.
He watched her walk away and he recognised the feeling growing in him, even as he tried to expel it. He could not find Samantha interesting and he did not want to be fascinated by her just because he could not feel her emotions.
Pushing his hands into his blazer pockets, after he hefted his bag across his shoulder, he felt the corners of the envelope he stuffed in there the other day.
THE ENVELOPE WAS IN his hands and without a second thought, he ripped it open.
Not his proudest moment.
After he folded open the plain white sheet of paper he pulled from the envelope, the few words scribbled across its surface shocked him and he knew. He also knew why everything for him had changed. It was not only that he did not like the way Chris looked at her, it was not a cave-man competition to win her over. It was not because he realised, he could not read her emotions like he could do with everyone else. There was a change in her actions, a change in her eyes. Her usually tired eyes became sadder than usual.
During the last hour of school, all he could think about was the blue scrawled words on the white sheet of paper. For the first time, he tried to feel someone's emotions through the people they were interacting with. This exercise turned out to be futile, and he did not really expect it to work, but he felt desperate.
Usually, he would have waited for the halls at school to empty out, which usually meant the buses were all full by the time he reached them, but he rushed from the class and then once he pushed himself through the glass doors to exit the school building, he stopped.
He just stood there, even though he tried to convince himself to start walking home.
He was not entirely sure why he waited.
Did he want her to see him here?
Keeping his hands clenched around the strap of his satchel across his shoulder, he breathed slowly, trying to calm his heaving chest as he watched her walk slowly in his direction.
She pretended not to see him, and he was disappointed when she walked straight past him without even acknowledging him.
When she reached the gates on the boundary of the school grounds, she glanced around and finally looked in his direction. She stared back at him for only a moment and all he could read in her eyes was confusion before she tore her eyes away.
What would it be like if she liked him for him, and not for the way he could make her feel? Even to him, it made no sense. It was embarrassing how his world suddenly seemed to be empty of everything except for Samantha. Quickly he started to follow her. He knew which way she had to walk home. Often, he had walked behind her, without really paying any attention to her at all.
Out of breath, he reached her, but her eyes were intent on the road ahead of her and her hands were bunched tightly to her sides. She seemed anxious about something.
She did not look at him, even when he slowed his steps to match her steady steps, and that frustrated him.
Without looking, she stepped off the sidewalk.
The sound of screeching tyres was loud in his ears, and for a moment, everything stopped.
Samantha looked straight into his horror filled eyes and then turned her eyes to the red car and her approaching death.
Launching himself in her direction, he pulled her roughly by her arm out of harm's way. He caught her around the wrist, moving with too much urgency to be gentle. In the short second between the time he pulled her small frame closer to him, he was vividly aware of the fact he did not want to lose her.
When she bumped back against him, he saw the red car squeal to a stop exactly on the spot where Samantha was standing only moments before.
The tyres slid on the tarmac and then it was as if the car was going to spin toward them. Without thinking he twisted around with her in his arms and he hunched his body around her body.
All his muscles pulled tight as he waited for the car to slam into them. The red car shuddered as the tyres knocked against the step of the sidewalk, and then swayed back and forth.
Daryl dared to look over his shoulder when the impact took longer than he thought it would and he saw the car stopped at an angle, mere inches from where Samantha and he stood as if frozen in time.
He kept his arms around her waist and pulled her even tighter to him. “Samantha?” He asked urgently, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” She sounded stunned.
Relief rushed through him when she smiled. It was not a bright, happy smile, only a tiny smile, but it warmed him from the inside out and made him feel as if he was practically glowing.
She inched away from him, and reluctantly he let her go.
By now the accident scene was surrounded by mostly other students from school and residents of the narrow street, who were all curious to see what had happened.
It was uncomfortable for Daryl to be standing there with so many eyes on them. He felt their sense of relief, fear, panic, fright and concern. It filled his every cell.
“You okay, kid?” The driver of the red car asked as he stepped out, walking over to them on shaky legs and a face as pale as the moon from shock.
“I am so sorry,” Samantha started.
Her apology barely soothed the man's dread, and he took a deep breath. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking at both of them. He seemed consumed with guilt over the fact that he had almost killed her, even though it was Samantha who stepped off the sidewalk without looking for approaching traffic.
Daryl felt the man’s emotions of what could have been, and he felt sorry for him.
Samantha was mumbling under her breath, still apologising.
“We're fine, really,” Daryl said to the driver of the red car.
“Do you need a ride home? After the shock, I mean?” He looked at us concerned as if turning around and driving off would be the wrong thing to do.
As he looked down at Samantha for confirmation, she shook her head as she deliberately started to walk away.
Daryl followed her and felt embarrassed as he sensed every spectator’s eyes on them.
“What do you want?” She asked him coldly without looking at him.
He cringed back a little from the tone of hostility in her voice. He asked, “Are you okay?”
“No. You owe me an explanation,” she said in a small voice.
“What for?”
“We were kind of friends, weren't we and then suddenly you just started hating me. I can feel it every time you look at me. You are angry and furious just sharing the same space as me. I still feel that, but you keep following me. Why?”
Was his frustration so evident? Was he projecting his aggravation at not being able to feel her feelings onto her? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
She squared her shoulders. “I know you don't like me. So why don't you just leave me alone.” She was angry.
He met her glare.
“What do you want from me, Daryl?” She clenched her teeth together and her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
They scowled at each other and then a tear fell from the corner of her eye. “You should have let that car just knock me over.”
Her words were not what he was expecting.
Suddenly he could not handle the look in her eyes, and he felt the need to escape. The sadness in her eyes overwhelmed him and he had to distance himself from her, so he turned and walked away from her fast. For a small moment, he felt her emotions and it was more than he could handle.
After he got home, he stood by his bedroom window and looked out, knowing she had to walk past his house to get to her house.
He should have stayed when he felt her emotions wash over him. He wanted to know what they were, but when she let her defence down for a second, he could not handle it and he ran away like a coward.
She must have taken a different route because as it started getting darker and the colour started to drain from the bricks of the houses across the street, he got bored following the cracks in the walls with his eyes.
AN IMMENSE SENSE OF regret overwhelmed him for walking away from her when she was so hopelessly sad. He should have stayed, and he should have consoled her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and he could have pulled her tightly to his chest and engulfed them in a cloud of serenity. He could have done so many things, but he did none of them—he ran. Like the coward he had become, he ran. Ran away from the sadness her eyes roused in him, sadness that was almost unbearable in its intensity. He was not Samantha’s guardian, but he knew without a doubt he was not strong enough to stay away from her, even if she obliterated his heart.
It was still light outside, everything filtered with a hue of drizzly grey when he turned from his window and walked out of his bedroom.
The rain outside drenched him, although it usually formed a protective shield around him. It was as if the rain created a barrier between him and the emotions of the world. It let him be just him.
Samantha thought – felt – as if he did not like her, in fact, loathed her. Truth be told, he was angry and frustrated because she was the first person whom he could not connect with, but he did not hate her, did he?
They had always only been friendly toward each other, but now he conceded that he did like her. Whether it was because she only intrigued him, he did not know.
After he left her today on the sidewalk and seeing as she wished to die, she would probably be more relieved than hurt when he turned his face away from her whenever they met again, and he pretended she did not exist.
He could pretend to ignore her and never look her way again. He could pretend she was of no interest to him, and as easy as that, she would forget about his existence, because she would no longer be influenced by his own personal feelings.
Did she like him?
Did he love her? He did not think so. Although, he could see how easy it would be, to fall in love with her. It would be effortless.
Was there even the slightest possibility she could fall in love with him?
When he tried to see her emotions in her eyes and her cheeks turned pink, was it an indication that she felt more for him than just casual friendship?
Chris' involvement also aggravated him. He did not want Chris to be the one who discovered her secrets. He wanted to be the one she trusted. The way Chris spoke about Samantha as if she was a goal to be achieved, provoked him almost as much as his confident believe that he could. Was she into Chris?
He was slowly driving himself mad.
When he left the house earlier on, he overheard Chris on the phone. Was he speaking to Samantha? Would he ask her out?
An intense fury made his hands clench into fists.
Would she say, yes?
The thought of her agreeing to go out with Chris caused a stab of pain in his heart which was greater than anything he had experienced before. It was not just pain, but a labyrinth of pain, rage, desire and despair. He had never felt anything like it before.
Without consciously deciding to go to her house, he found himself standing in front of her door. After he knocked, he regretted convincing himself that he was not a coward, because as he waited for someone to open the door, he felt like running away.
She must have seen the relief on his face when she opened the door and not her parents. Briefly, she closed her eyes as a soft sigh escaped her lips, and her hand came up to sweep some of her dark hair away from her face. Her shoulders were a little slumped as if she felt defeated. She shook her head ever so slightly.
The sudden bewildered expression in her eyes penetrated his soul as a man's voice came from inside the house, and in that second, he did not feel remorse or guilt or rage, all he wanted to do now was to protect her.
An emancipated, scrawny looking man appeared behind her. His black hair was plastered to his skull. It was shiny, probably from the lack of a good wash. His eyes were glazed over and Daryl could not tell if it was from the effects of drugs or alcohol. The stubble on his cheeks made him look even more haggard and when he opened his mouth to breathe, he saw he was missing a couple of teeth.
The man grabbed onto her elbow possessively and Daryl could see his fingers dent into her skin.
He watched her body stiffen and he froze for a moment as he suppressed the urge to leap across the distance between them and beat the life out of this man for even daring to touch her.
Daryl moved his eyes and stared at Samantha again. She had hidden in her hair, but he could see through a parting that her cheeks were a deep shade of pink. Most probably from embarrassment.
She did not meet his gaze again, but she twisted away from the man nervously.
He realised he should not have come here, and he should just apologise, turn around and walk away, but he did not want to walk away either. At that moment she looked so breakable.
“Samantha?” He asked, unable to stop himself. “Are you okay?”
She hesitated before looking at him. When her eyes connected with his, her expression was guarded and cautious.
Daryl just stared at her, trying to read her face.
“What do you want?” The man slurred heavily.
Daryl’s anger was fuelling the situation.
He could see the man behind her clench his fist and his other hand tighten around Samantha's elbow.
Seeing this made Daryl even angrier, even though he tried to force himself to be calm and relaxed, but he could not.
Samantha squared her shoulders as she pulled her elbow from the man's hand. “Are you speaking to me again?” She asked Daryl. There was an edge of resentment in her tone.
He was making her angry as well – again. He was not sure how to answer her question, or who to answer first. Even though she was attacking him verbally, he was concerned about her.
UNDERSTANDABLY, SHE regarded Daryl as untrustworthy, when all he really wanted was for her to trust him.
She closed her eyes, which frustrated him. It blocked the only access he had of knowing what she was feeling. She took a long, slow breath without opening her eyes. Her jaw was clenched tightly. With her eyes still closed, she asked, “What do you want, Daryl?”
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I should have called before coming over.”
Her eyes opened and then tightened. “You're right. You should have called first,” she said angrily.
“I'm sorry, I didn't know if I should come or not.” He was starting to feel frustrated again and he wished he knew what she was feeling.
“You never know anything.” She jerked her body away from Daryl, knocking into the man beside her. “Get out of my way, Bruce.” Her cheeks were flushed with anger as she slammed the door shut in Daryl’s face.
He contemplated her rudeness as he walked away from her house back to his own. He wanted so badly to ignore Samantha, but it turned out it was difficult for him to disregard her. Did it mean he had no choice? This seemed to be the only question. He did feel something for her. Affection and fondness, but most certainly not love. If she did not want his help to keep her safe, there was nothing he could do. Once again, he wished with all his heart, he knew what she was feeling.
He walked for a long time to try and clear his mind and it was past midnight when he got back home. Their house was dark and quiet. His room was small and very disorganised, but clean. There were books piled on the floor beside his bed. Stacks of papers surrounded his laptop and shoes were scattered in various locations where he left them after he pushed them from his feet.
He fell onto his bed and turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The amber light from across the road outside his bedroom window cast an orange glow in his room. Had he really once only thought of her as a casual friend? Only a pretty girl with a splendid body? He could not understand why he had not found her breathtakingly beautiful immediately. Her dark hair messy and tangled around her heart-shaped face, her full naturally pink lips and her dark, emotional eyes. It was as if the trick of the light on his ceiling was conjuring up her face and he could see it clearly. He stared up at these shadows and tried to think of some way to make her future better. Her being sad was not an option. She deserved happiness and love. An eternal love. A love that never faded. He took a deep breath, and then another until he watched the sunrise reflect its warm glow along the corner of his room.
He got ready for school quickly, avoiding his mum's worried, questioning eyes. She saw the feverish look on his face, and he could sense she was feeling concerned.
When he arrived at school, he strolled down the long school passage. Instead of going straight to his first class, he waited a short distance away from Samantha's locker, a suitable place from where he could watch her without being seen.
He did not have to wait long.
She walked down the passage in his direction. She looked bone tired.
Uncertainty filled him to the core, and he wanted to kick himself for being such an arrogant fool. Standing here, waiting for her, when she most probably did not even want to speak to him.
As she reached her locker, he walked closer to her, wondering how best to approach her.
“Samantha?” Did she hear how he felt about her by the way he said her name?
She glared at him. “Why the impromptu visit last night?” She asked without looking at him. “You are supposed to hate me, remember?”
It was going to take some effort to make things right with her. “I was worried after I left you there on the sidewalk yesterday and I wanted to apologise. I am sorry for just walking away.”
Her eyes connected with his and they were full of questions and doubts.
“And I don't hate you. Not even close,” he finished. He had to try harder to keep this conversation casual, to keep his feelings to himself. He did not want her to feel about him the way he felt about her, just because he made her feel that way.
Without saying a word, she turned her back on him and began to walk away.
“Wait,” he pleaded.
She did not stop, so he followed her.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?” She asked sounding exasperated.
He wanted to say: I don't know. Or even: I can't. He really, really wanted to say: Because I am in love with you. Instead, he said, “I wanted to ask you something.” He just had a brilliant plan.
She swung around to face him, there was a small frown between her beautiful eyes, and she looked at him confused. “Do you have a personality disorder?”
To her, it must seem that way. The one moment she could feel his hate, then she could feel his anger, his uncertainty, and at times she could even feel his affection for her. His emotions were erratic, and he was unable to help himself. He was projecting each one of them onto her. Every feeling he felt, she could feel.
Usually, he was able to rein himself in and be cautious not to let others feel what he felt, but these days, when he was around Samantha his own feelings were too great to keep them guarded. They refused to be contained, they were like monsters, they demanded to be felt.
She sighed. “What do you want to ask?” She sounded a little friendlier.
“I was wondering if...”
She waited in silence, her teeth pressing into her lower lip. It was distracting him, derailing his thoughts.
She stared at him. “What Daryl?”
“Did you want to hang out on Saturday?”
“With whom?”
“Me, of course.” Who else did she think he was talking about? He felt a trickle of doubt as an image of Chris flashed through his mind.
“Why?” She asked.
“Well,” he said as casually as possible, “I was planning to go to the Water Park, and, to be honest, I didn't feel like going alone.” There was a whole group of them going, but she was making him feel incredibly nervous with all her questions and he could honestly not think of any other suggestion.
“It's supposed to rain,” she said confused as if she could not understand why he would want to go anywhere with her.
She started to walk again, but he kept pace with her. “It won't rain, and if it does, we can do something else.”
“Honestly, Daryl, what's up with you?”
“Just say you'll go with me,” he insisted.
She nodded. “Fine, but I just know I'm going to regret this.”
She said yes. Even with the part she added of predicted regret, he felt like hugging her, he was so happy.
She took a quick step away from him.
He knew at that very moment she felt so happy, she could hug him, but the feeling seemed to confuse her. Was she wondering where the feeling came from? Was it an unwanted feeling?
He stepped away from her. “See you in class.” Quickly he turned away from her and walked away.
The rest of his day progressed as any other day. He tried hard not to be too focussed on Samantha or her legs or her lips or her hair, basically anything about her. He had to find a way to shield his own emotions from her because he genuinely liked this girl. Who was he fooling? He loved her. For the first time, he wanted her to love him back, but of her own free will, not because she felt compelled to love him as with all his other girlfriends.
USUALLY, WHEN DARYL liked a girl, she liked him back.
Easy, simple and always welcomed. However, he did not want this from Samantha. He wanted the real thing from her. It had to be the way she felt, and not the way he made her feel.
When the last bell of the day rang, he hurried down the crowded passage, keeping his head down and focussing his eyes only on the three paces ahead of him on the floor.
Outside the school building, just beyond the exit doors, he positioned himself against the wall. He shifted his position a few times, trying to look as casual as possible.
When he saw her walking from the building, he pushed himself away from the wall nonchalantly and took a step toward her. “Company?” He asked her with a casual smile.
She stopped walking and stared at him for a while.
He waited for her to say something.
Finally, she said, with a smirk on her lips, “This is different.”
Could she feel his love for her? He did not want her to. Obviously, he wanted her to feel his love for her, but not yet. “I don’t have any idea what you mean,” he said.
She smiled a small smile. “I know, it's silly really.”
It was hard to ignore the relief he felt at seeing her smile, so he laughed instead of getting serious. “Silly, how?” He asked.
“I'm just surprised, is all,” she said as she started to walk again.
He fell into step next to her. “It shouldn't really come as a surprise.” After the words left his mouth, he wanted to kick himself. “I’m going to try harder not to project my negative feelings.”
“You lost me again.” She looked at him baffled.
“I know, it's silly really,” he echoed her earlier words.
“I don’t understand you.” She shook her head a little as if she was getting irritated with him.
“I’m hoping you will.”
“So, are we friends again?”
“Yes.” He wanted more. Did she really think he only wanted to be her friend? They walked in silence for a long time, and when he could not stand it anymore, he asked, “What are you thinking?”
She looked embarrassed when she met his gaze. “I’m trying to figure out how you are able to manipulate my feelings as you do?”
Daryl held the smile on his face, while panic twisted through him. Of course, she would be wondering. When he was angry and frustrated with her, she felt angry and frustrated. When he seemed calm and serene, she felt the same. She was not stupid. If one day she did fall in love with him, would she think it was only because he coerced her to love him? Would she deny the feeling as real, if it ever happened? “Any luck?” he asked.
“Not really,” she admitted.
He chuckled. “Any guesses?”
She shook her head. “Besides being crazy and mental, none.”
He laughed amused. “It must be frustrating.”
She said in a hurried, provoked voice, “No. I'll tell you what's frustrating. You and I have known each other for years, and always did I get the impression you were hardly aware of my existence. Then, suddenly, I feel as if you like me. When Mr Scott forced us to sit together and I was standing next to your desk, it felt as if you, genuinely liked me. After all these years, it was as if you could really see me. Then, in an instant, you were angry with me. One moment I feel as if you hate me, and then the very next it feels as if...”
“As if what?” He needed to know.
“Nothing.” She glanced at him, and her eyes looked sad, her expression was puzzled. “Could you do me a favour?” She asked.
“That depends on what you want,” he said.
Anything.
Everything.
She interrupted his thoughts. “I was hoping the next time you decide to hate me; you could give me an early warning? Just so I can be prepared.”
Was being hated by him such a bad thing? Was it wrong for him to suddenly feel happy? “I already told you, I don't hate you. I like your company.”
“Really? You could have fooled me a couple of times already this last week,” she said sarcastically.
Too soon, they reached his house. “See you tomorrow,” he said, trying even harder to be casual. He added silently, And, oh, by the way, don’t be alarmed, but I love you.
She hesitated and foolishly he hoped she would follow him into his house, move into his room with him, share his closet and his bed, and basically stay with him forever.
But she lifted her hand in a small wave and carried on walking past his house.
He waited in front of his front door until he could not see her anymore.
*
AFTER DINNER, HE DECIDED to go for a walk.
He knew he would be walking past her house; it was his every intention. This time he was not going to knock on her door, he just wanted to feel close to her. Maybe, on the off chance, she would be outside or standing by her window and he could give her a quick glance.
In the distance, he heard a baby cry. He could not describe how feelings affected him, but the effect they had on him was profound. All babies cry and it was their only way of communicating. They cry because they are hungry, tired, in pain, lonely. It was the lonely, sad cry which struck him the most. It pushed its way into his chest and tightened around his heart. Often, he tried to ignore these feelings, surely, he would go insane if he held onto them. Sometimes people were cruel and mean, and this saddened him more than anything.
As he turned the corner into Samantha's street, he saw an ambulance in front of her house and rushed forward. He did not realise he had been sprinting until he stopped at the open doors of the ambulance and felt a cramp settle just above his hip bone.
PANICKED, HE LOOKED into the back of the ambulance, but it was empty. He turned toward her front door and saw her standing within the shadows on the sidewalk.
“Samantha?”
There was no change of expression on her lifeless face when he yelled her name and his whole body went colder than ice.
He was hardly aware of Bruce, her stepfather's aggravated emotions as two policemen stood talking to him just inside the entrance to their house.
When he reached Samantha, he leaned closer to her and asked concerned, “What’s wrong? Did he hurt you?”
She had a distant look in her eyes, and he was trying to get her to look at him.
After a long time, she turned her head and looked at him, but he was not sure she could see him.
“I think my mum just fainted. I don’t know what happened, I was in my room with my door closed.”
Relief washed through him when it looked as if she seemed okay.
“They were fighting,” Samantha said, looking dazed.
“Did he hit your mum?” Daryl asked with an anxious tone in his voice.
She shook her head. “She gets epileptic fits sometimes.”
“So, she's okay now?”
She nodded her head.
Gently he put his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, touching only her clothes, keeping as much distance between their bodies as possible, and he felt her long hair whisper against his hands.
He waited with her on the sidewalk and they watched the commotion around them. Her mum decided not to go to the hospital. When the policemen left, one shook his head as he mumbled something softly so only his partner could hear.
“My mum probably told them she hurt herself,” Samantha said quietly.
“Does this happen often?” Daryl asked. “The fighting?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted with a shrug.
Bruce said loudly from their front door, “You. Boy. You can go home now.”
Daryl looked him straight in the eye. “I’d rather stay.” He tried hard not to let his anger engulf him, so he pushed his emotions deeper into him.
Samantha was silent. She just breathed slowly in and out.
“You scared me,” he said softly. “I thought your stepfather hurt you.”
She looked at him with a stunned expression on her face. “Why would you think that?”
He said it before he could consider the dire consequences. “Sometimes I can feel things...”
“What?” She moved away from him in shock.
Then he realised his mistake. “It's nothing. I just thought the ambulance and the police... I didn't know what to think.”
Was that disappointment in her eyes? Hurt? Pain?
“Bruce doesn’t like me,” he told her, trying to focus her attention on something else. He did not want her to know he could make people feel the way he wanted them to feel. She would think he was doing it to her, making her feel things she did not really want to feel. He wanted her to feel about him the way he felt about her without her knowing, without her thinking the feelings were not her own.
“You can’t know that,” she said dismissively.
“I can tell.”
“How did you know?” She looked up and down the street, trying to figure out if he could see the disturbance in front of her house from five streets away. The neighbours have all retreated into their respective homes. The show was over.
“I was out for a walk.” He considered he should have brought Jack with him. It would have looked more probable if he had a dog with him, that this was just a casual walk and he was not on a mission to stalk her. Again, he wanted to focus her attention on something else. “Are you still going to the Water Park tomorrow... After everything?”
She looked up at the night sky and all the stars were out. There was not a hint of her predicted rain. “I said I was,” she said softly.
He looked at her and saw how sad she looked.
“I have to go in now. See how my mum is.” She started to walk away from him.
Without thinking about his actions, he reached out and caught her by the back of her T-shirt.
She stopped walking but did not turn around to face him again.
He did not want her to leave. Not yet. “What's your mum like?” He asked.
She turned back to him and smiled. “She looks like me, just older.” Her small smile looked sad when she continued, “She is also my best friend.” Her voice caught in her throat a little. “If anything happened to her... I would be devastated.”
“Your mum sounds nice; so why did she marry someone like Bruce?” He asked, unable to keep the confusion from his voice.
“My mum...” She hesitated before continuing, “Is impulsive and she believes love makes everything alright. According to her, love can fix people who are broken.”
“Do you agree?” He wondered.
“Does it matter what I think?” She looked at him with a strange expression in her eyes, a look he could not figure out. “I want her to be happy and when he is sober, he does make her happy. They have been together for years now, so... Besides, it is only when he drinks that they start fighting, and he's really harmless.” She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should tell him this one secret. Her eyes kept his captive, as she said, “I always thought she would never marry him. I suppose I always hoped she would catch a wake-up and tell me one day to pack my bags, we're leaving. Then she married him. It changed everything. That one act of hers changed everything for me. It stole my hope.”
The sadness of her comment literally caused the muscles of his stomach to pull together in a painful spasm, and the feeling shimmered through him. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled.
“Don't be. It's not your fault.” She grinned. “Are you going to tell me about your family now? It’s got to be a much less dramatic story than mine.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Mum and dad, single parent, any stepparents?”
“It's all just very normal really. I live with my mum and dad, and they have been married for a long time. Four years after they got married, they had Chris and then I came along two years later. Not really much to tell.” He looked at her apologetically. He felt guilty for having such a normal life when her life was in such a turmoil. If he could, he would take her away from it all, to show her how everything could be absolutely perfect. How wonderful it was to be boringly normal.
He asked her, “Your dad?”
“I don’t really remember him that clearly. He left a long time ago.”
“Sammy?” A woman's voice from behind them asked in a timid voice and they turned to look in her direction.
Samantha was right, they looked the same. They had the same dark hair and eyes, the same heart-shaped face, the same tired look in their eyes.
“I suppose I better go in.” She did not move as if she did not want to leave Daryl either.
As he stared back at her, he smiled ruefully, hoping she could not see the yearning in his eyes. He stepped away from her. “See you tomorrow.”
SAMANTHA WAS SO WRAPPED up in her own confusion, in all the lies she kept telling everybody, in how she always pretended to be happy even though she had to hide dark secrets behind her front door.
Home was supposed to be a safe place. She knew this because the shows she watched on TV could not always just be fantasy, make-believe scenarios. There were people out there who were happy without having to pretend to be so.
She was consumed by hurt and when Daryl asked her all those questions, she wanted to tell him everything and she wanted to unburden her soul, but she did not know where to start.
How could she explain her mum and her were living in an abusive environment and they just let it happen to them? When people found out, they would look at Bruce with disgust, but the bigger chunk of loathing would be for her and her mum because people would wonder why they stayed. They could have left, couldn’t they? It all looked so easy from the outside in, but it was not easy when a soul was broken.
She lay in her bed listening to the silence. The house was always quiet after the neighbours phoned the police. It was as if Bruce decided to fight harder against his inner demons, but it never lasted long. The demons were always there, they never went away and when he started drinking, he blamed her mum for everything wrong in his life and he felt as if he had to punish her, and recently he thought it was Samantha’s fault too.
She decided long ago that life was not fair, and it was hard to be alone.
She wondered why Daryl was suddenly being friendlier to her than he had ever been in the past. Did he like her? Could she trust him? Would he be able to take the fear and the pain, and replace it with a feeling of happiness?
She knew happiness was intangible. She could not grab it, hold it in her hands or save it for later but she was sure it would be easier if she had someone to share her thoughts and feelings with.
DARYL WALKED THE LONG way home.
It was still early evening, so his parents and Chris would still be awake if he went straight home, and he had things to think about.
He needed some time alone. Samantha knew there was something wrong with him, even if she did not know what it was exactly. She felt her emotions waver when she was with him, realised her feelings mirrored his.
He shivered when he remembered holding his arms around her shoulders. What if she had pulled herself tightly against his chest? Would he have cupped his hand under her chin? Would he have brushed her hair back from her face? Traced the shape of her lips with his fingertips? Slowly dropped his face closer to hers?
A car sped by him and his daydream scattered like a flock of pigeons. He was in a real dilemma because he was already attracted to Samantha in the worst way and he wanted her to be attracted to him just as badly, but he did not want her to like him just because he liked her.
For the first time ever, he wished he did not have these empathic abilities, so that he could love her and know if she loved him back, it was not because he made her love him.
He pushed his hands deep into his jean’s pockets.
It was all the more confusing because he had never felt more normal in his whole life. Never did he not know when a girl was overpowered by the feelings he washed over her like a wave of love, to have her feel swept away with love for him, to be aroused whenever she saw him. This was beyond frustrating – not knowing.
He knew Samantha could feel his emotions, that much had not changed, and this meant he had to try harder at hiding his feelings from her completely. Imagine his shame and heartbreak if he loved her as much as he did, and she did not love him in return.
He got home without even realising he was walking home, and after he closed the front door, with his foot on the first step up to his room, he said loudly, so his mum would know he was home safely, “I'm back.”
Chris came from the lounge hurriedly. He looked at Daryl searchingly. “Are you on drugs or what? You are all over the place lately.”
Ignoring him, Daryl took the stairs to his room two by two.
Not to be ignored, Chris followed him up the stairs. “Mum's worried. What's going on with you?”
“I was at Samantha's.”
He grinned. “She does have a kind of attraction, doesn’t she?”
Daryl gave him a scornful look.
Chris took a small step back. “Easy, there, I’m just kidding.”
“Did she say yes?” Daryl demanded to know.
Chris looked at him confused.
Daryl sighed. “Did she agree to go out with you?” He held his breath.
Chris still looked as if he was confused.
Really? It was a simple question.
Then realisation dawned on his face. “Samantha?” Chris guffawed. “No, actually, she said she was busy this weekend.”
Daryl felt elated.
Chris grinned, shifting his weight a little. “You like her, don't you?”
“Just stay away from her.”
“Is this the reason for your erratic mood swings? She doesn't feel the same about you?” Chris walked further into his room.
Daryl looked at him and considered that Chris thought because he was two years older than him, he was the Guru on love, full of usually useless information. He knew for certain Chris could not give him any sage advice on this particular problem.
Leaning against the desk in the corner of the room, Chris folded his arms across his chest. “Is this why you're acting like a girl – all over the place?”
Daryl could not hold it in anymore and he needed to speak to someone. “I'm worried about her.”
“What’s there to worry about? She likes you then she likes you. She doesn't, she doesn't. There's plenty of fish in the sea.”
Daryl’s teeth clenched together, and he was abruptly infuriated with him for comparing Samantha to a fish, and even for implying she was the same as every other girl.
“Do you really fancy her, then?” Chris asked as if he wanted to make sure Daryl did not. To test the waters and to see if it was clear for him to make the first move.
Daryl sighed as he dropped his face into his upturned palms. Even if he had tried, he would not have been able to stop the words pouring from his lips, “I cannot describe it, Chris. Suddenly, this girl is the whole world to me.”
“Trust me, I know,” Chris said softly.
If Daryl was not, at that moment, so attuned to Chris’ emotions, he might not have heard his soft murmur.
With a deep-seated awareness within his soul, he suddenly realised it was right for him to be with her. Everything happens for a reason, right? It would be safer for her to be with him rather than to be with someone like Chris. Chris would hurt her and break her heart.
Daryl decided he could be her guardian, her protector.
Chris noticed the change in his expression. “What?” He asked.
“Nothing,” Daryl said as he turned away from him and grabbed hold of his earphones from the bedside table beside him. He glanced at Chris. “I'm going to bed now. Get out.”
Chris pulled his phone from his pocket as he pushed himself away from the desk and left the room, already preoccupied with his phone.
As Daryl stared up at the ceiling and the lyrics of the music in his earphones drenched him, he filled his mind with an image of her face. He focussed his mind on her soft, warm lips and he imagined touching them with the tip of his finger. Just lightly.
THE NEXT MORNING WHEN Daryl saw Samantha, the first thing he thought was that she looked tired. The cuff of her sweater shifted, and he thought he saw bruises around her wrist, but before he could get a good look, she pulled the sleeve back into place.
Had she been hurt?
Did Bruce hurt her?
It was comforting to think they were friends now, or at least trying to be friends, so he could ask her. Would she tell him though? Would she make up a story, or would she tell him what really happened?
He looked at her and smiled, keeping the worry from his eyes and from his emotions. He did not want her to feel uncomfortable in his company so he convinced himself he had nothing to worry about, but he could hardly bring the idea she was being abused up in casual conversation.
He watched as her hair caught the sun in unexpected ways, giving off an auburn tint which he had not previously noticed.
Chris, who had decided, against Daryl’s every wish and desire, to come with to the Water Park as well, stepped up to her. She greeted him with enough enthusiasm to make Chris happy, and Daryl the complete opposite.
Daryl watched as Chris lifted his hand and took a strand of her hair between his fingers. Chris said, “I’ve never noticed before how beautiful your hair is.”
Daryl felt as if he was going to burst out of his skin with irritation.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
The movement was slight, but Daryl saw her move away from Chris when he tried to fold the strand of hair behind her ear. She ducked her head a little and took a couple of steps away from him.
Daryl gave Chris a sideways glance full of annoyance when he announced, “Here comes the bus.”
On the bus, Daryl watched Samantha’s face from whichever angle he was given, and he could see she was sad again, even though she was smiling and laughing.
She glanced at Daryl every now and again, and this gave him hope. Hope that he might have a chance of her liking him, without him having to go to extremes, like flooding her with his emotions.
What he really wanted was to sit in the seat beside her, to monopolize her attention, to ask her about the bruise on her wrist, but when they stepped onto the bus, his group of friends were already on it and he was pulled into their conversations, while Samantha was with the group of girls whom she was friendly with at school.
Even though he was laughing and talking with his friends, he could not really help listening to her every word. He heard her say, “I’m sorry, what?” and forced himself not to look in her direction. His heart tried to convince him she was talking to him, but his brain knew she was not.
“Um...” She hesitated. “Is that the show where they are in space and then they come back down to earth after a hundred years?”
He was not really listening for a reply from Diane. He was not interested in her, he was sure, boring contribution to the conversation.
Samantha laughed, and as the sound cascaded into his ears, it caused a spasm in his chest. As if even his heart could not withstand the happiness of the sound. Glancing in her direction, he saw she was looking more relaxed. She was smiling widely, and two dimples dented her cheeks on both corners of her beautiful lips. Even her eyes sparkled with a glimmer, although he could not really see them as clearly as he would have wanted to from the angle he was standing at. “...Well, you remember it,” she said.
Her happiness seemed to dampen a little when Diane asked, “Has anyone asked you to the end of year dance, yet?”
She smiled even wider, and he knew, just knew nobody had asked her yet. Not because he could feel any emotions from her. This had been as frustrating as ever and getting worse as each day passed, but he could see it in the imperceptible way her hand twitched a little, the almost unnoticed crinkle in the corner of her eyes, the nervous twitch of her bottom lip. “I'm not going,” she said as if it was not a big deal.
At that moment, the only thing he wanted more than anything in the whole entire world was to make Samantha happy again. To hear that brief moment of careless laughter again. It was his full intention to walk away from his friends, even though Jasper was in the middle of telling him something and even if someone was to torture him to within an inch of his life, he would not be able to recall what Jasper said.
Then a disconcerting thought entered his mind: Was he even worthy of Samantha? She was beautiful and precious, while he was just him. He did not have time to ponder this earth-shattering awareness which suddenly filled his entire body, because they had arrived at the Water Park and everyone started to file from the bus.
At the entrance to the Water Park, they paid the entrance fees and then found a place large enough for the large group to settle. It was a really warm summer's day and already the place was full of people. There were kids running around screaming, laughing and yelling. The water slides were teeming with tall, short, fat and skinny people. People who were not in the water or on the slides were lounging about on their towels under large umbrellas. People sauntered around licking soft-serve ice-cream cones, while others locked their lips around hamburgers.
Daryl pulled his T-shirt from his body and felt the warm sun caress his skin as he watched the crowd surrounding them, yet all the while he knew exactly where Samantha was in proximity to him. He walked closer to her, pretending he needed to put his bag on the wooden table against which she was leaning. “Hey,” he said and smiled when he caught her eye.
“Thanks for inviting me. I did not realise how much I needed to get out in the sun, until right this moment.”
“The water does look tempting, doesn't it? Are you coming?” He looked at her.
She hesitated, but he was not going to give her the chance to say no, so he reached his hand out to her, palm up, without saying anything.
What if she did not take his hand? It would be mortifying. He wished he knew if she liked him or not.
For a long, terrifying moment she looked at him with a perplexed look in her eyes, watching him carefully, a little crease of concern between her eyes, as if she was trying to assure herself, he was being sincere.
Was she wondering if he still hated her, like she mistakenly thought he did?
She took a deep breath, which lifted her chest and admittedly his eyes did dart in that direction for a very short moment. He would be lying if he said he did not want to linger his gaze on the way her swimming costume defined every curve of her body.
“Come,” he said.
She sighed and reached for his hand.
As they went on ride after ride, he was happy, and as always everyone in his sphere was equally as happy. They could not help it really.
AN HOUR LATER, AFTER he pulled his T-shirt back on, he fell onto his towel exhausted. He was on his stomach and his chin was resting on his forearms. He felt content, feeling the warmness of the sun on his skin and this increased the tired laziness caused by the hour of physical exertion.
With all his might, he pushed the image out of his head from when he emerged from a water tunnel earlier on and saw Samantha. Her wet, dark hair was swept away from her face and she could not hide behind it anymore. As lame as it sounded, her beauty caused him physical pain. Then Chris was there, surprising her from behind, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and holding her close against his chest. It was everything he had wanted to do since they plunged into the water for the first time. He watched them from the corner of his eye, as she squirmed from Chris’ embrace and then laughing carefree, she splashed a handful of water in his face.
Daryl fought against the pain it caused his heart. If he knew what she was feeling, if he knew she felt the same as he does, it would not have bothered him as much, but the fact that he had no idea whether she liked him or not, made him feel an unknown, unwelcome feeling of insecurity even when he pretended it did not matter.
Samantha sat down next to him and crossed her legs in front of her. Her question shocked Daryl out of his drowsiness. “Do you always have such an effect on people?”
“I do? Have an effect, I mean,” he asked without looking up at her and ignored the twinge of apprehension he felt.
“You haven’t noticed?” She asked, her voice sounded disbelieving. “Do you think everybody gets their way with everything so easily?”
He shifted his head so that instead of his chin, his cheek rested on his forearms and he looked up at her sideways. “Do I affect you?” He voiced his curiosity impulsively, and when the words were out it was too late for him not to say them.
Before he had time to too deeply regret speaking the words, she answered, “Often.” Her cheeks turned a pale shade of pink.
His heart swelled with a feeling of hope more intense than he could ever remember having felt before and he turned onto his back so that he could see her face more clearly.
“Hello,” someone said.
He lifted his head and saw Diane, dripping water onto his feet. “Do you want drinks? I'm running off to the cafeteria to get some.”
“I’ll have a Coke,” Samantha said while looking at Diane over her shoulder.
“Two cokes. I'll give you the money when you get back.” He wanted Diane to leave as quickly as possible. She had interrupted a very important revelation.
He settled his head back down again and looked up at Samantha.
“What?” Samantha demanded after Dianne was out of hearing range.
“Are you having fun?” He asked.
She blinked, surprised by the question. “Yeah, I am.”
He reached up with his hand and traced a drop of water on her arm. Her skin felt warm and soft beneath his fingertip and he was afraid she would move her arm away, but she kept her arm still.
She looked down at him with a small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
Was she... Affected?
“And you?” She asked.
He looked at her confused. “Huh?”
She laughed softly. “Having fun. Are you having fun?”
“I am.” He let his fingers trail down her arm to the faint purple bruises on her elbow. Softly he touched his fingers to it. “What happened here?”
She shrugged. “I bumped it against the bannister, walking down the stairs.”
He traced his finger further down her arm to the purple bruising around her wrist. “Was this me? The day you didn't look where you were going?”
She nodded her head and he felt a rush of guilt. She was so fragile. “Why were you in such a rush to get away from me that day, you almost killed yourself?”
Again, Diane interrupted them when she returned with their drinks and handed them over.
He noticed Dianne was trying to catch his eye and thought his feelings for Samantha are so uncontrolled that Diane could feel them and inadvertently she felt compelled to feel the same way about him. He wondered if Samantha could feel it as well.
Samantha opened her can and took a deep swallow. As she brought the can from her mouth, she shuddered once.
“Are you cold?” He asked concerned.
“It’s the sudden cold from the drink,” she explained, but she shivered again, and her lips were trembling a little. The bright pink swimming costume she wore looked inadequate to keep her warm.
“Do you have a jacket?”
“Somewhere.” She looked around for her bag.
He sat up and pulled off his T-shirt. It would have been nice to rather offer her a warmer jacket, but he did not want to leave her side and inadvertently cause her to go sit somewhere else. He wanted her to stay right beside him.
He handed her the T-shirt and she pulled it on. As her head popped out of the top of the shirt, she looked at him shyly. “Are you sure? I can get my jacket, you know.”
“I know.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“That colour blue looks nice on you,” he complimented her.
She blushed.
Daryl settled down on the ground again, trying to get into the exact same position as before. He did not reach his fingertips up to touch her arm again, even though he really wanted to.
They were quiet for a moment, but it felt nice.
She broke the silence, “I have a couple of theories why you affect people so easily.”
“What?” He could not help it when the tone of his voice was a little harsher than he intended it to be. Her statement startled him.
“I think... You have some sort of paranormal power.”
He laughed. “You think it's paranormal?”
“Yeah. It is as if you know what people are thinking.”
“No, I cannot read minds and I really don't have any powers.” Now it was clear she thought there was something wrong with him.
“Is it supernatural, then?” She asked.
He guffawed. “Uh, no.” He felt his heart swell and he felt larger than life itself. Samantha actually thought he had supernatural, paranormal powers like some kind of hero from a comic book.
Looking up at her, silhouetted by the pale blue sky around her head, he was mesmerised by her lips as they moved. They looked so soft. he wanted to touch them with his own.
“I've noticed how your moods affect other people. What is it if not paranormal?” She leaned her head down. All humour was gone as her gaze penetrated his. “Are you purposefully affecting me?” Her voice was low and intense.
Should he tell her? Should he tell her it was not as glamorous as she was imagining it to be?
“You can tell me, you know,” she whispered as she reached one hand forward as if to touch his cheek.
He sat up quickly and she dropped her hand, shifting her body away from his a little. He wanted her to know him, to know every little detail of him. He said, “I have this ability.” He laughed nervously. Did he want to lose her even before he knew if she liked him or not? He continued, “I just know what others are feeling.” His words came faster as if he had to say what he wanted to say as quickly as possible before he lost his nerve. “I’ve never been able not to feel another person's feelings, but with you, it's different.” He watched her, waiting for her reaction of shock.
She smiled curiously. “What do you mean, it's different with me?”
“With you, I don't feel anything.”
She reeled away from him as if his words had caused her pain.
Why? What did he say that was wrong?
He looked at her and she looked upset. Desperately, he tried to push away the barrier she had which stopped him from understanding why she was looking so hurt. It made no sense. Why would she suddenly not want to look at him?
“I CANNOT TELL WHAT you’re feeling,” he tried to explain. “Usually, I just know.” He watched her profile carefully as he said this.
She sat motionless, staring at the crowds of people in the swimming pool in front of them.
After a while, she looked back at him. “So, you don't know what I'm feeling?”
He smiled nervously. “Not even a tiny little bit.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yeah.” He felt a little insulted. “I wouldn't lie to you,” he said.
She played with the empty Coke can in her hands. “So, is it like a paranormal ability, then? Like I said.”
“I guess so.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You cannot tell anyone what I told you. People would think there’s something wrong with me and shove me in an institution to forget about me. Promise?”
“I won't say a word. You can trust me.” She looked at him.
For a long time, he stared back at her, trying to see if he can trust her. The other people around them were probably starting to think he might kiss her at any moment.
“Trust me?” She asked softly.
“Yeah, I do.” He said with a sigh.
“Good, because you can.”
Then he did want to kiss her. His mouth was already so close to her lips. He only had to move his head a little and he would be able to feel her lips against his.
“Are you ready to go home?” Chris asked loudly from behind them.
Daryl moved away from Samantha and stood up. Samantha followed quickly. He wanted to offer her his hand to help her up, but he thought that might be pushing his luck a little too far for one day.
Quickly, they got their bags and when Samantha handed his T-shirt back to him and he pulled it on, her faint perfumed smell filled his nose.
Walking back to the bus stop, he walked as close beside her as he dared. Close enough so that the warmth coming off her body was like a physical touch.
“How does it work,” she asked softly. “Can the rest of your family also do it? Is it genetic?”
“No, it’s just me.”
“Why do you think you cannot feel my emotions?” She wondered.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “And it's very frustrating.”
Samantha looked at him baffled. “Why frustrating?”
He wanted to say, because I love you and I really, really want to know if you love me too. Instead, he said, “I'm not used to not knowing.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the faint crinkle in the corner of her eye. “I don’t care, you know?”
“About?” He was starting to feel angry and frustrated again. If only he knew whether she felt the same way as he did, he wouldn't have to keep playing this guessing game and asking a million questions. He was not used to it, and it was really starting to irritate him. Although, truthfully, a part of him was starting to enjoy not knowing, of asking questions, of being surprised by her answers. Then again, if he knew how she felt he could let go of his own feelings. he could unleash them and let them wash over her. Let her feel what he felt. If he did this though without knowing how she felt, he would never, ever know if she really loved him or only loved him because he made her love him, and he honestly wanted her to just love him for him.
“You’re angry. I'm sorry, I’m being too nosey,” she interrupted his thoughts.
Pushing aside his own emotions, he said, with a smile. “It's okay, I wanted you to know.”
She nudged him playfully. “Be glad you don't know my feelings. I'm sure they would just be plain boring to you.”
“I do want to know what you’re feeling.” Was he sounding desperate?
For a moment she looked sad. “No, you don't.”
“You don't understand, I really do.”
“Why?” She smiled coyly as she leant a little closer to him as if they were sharing a secret.
Her lips distracted him.
Should he say it? Just say it. Let it be out there, come what may? “I like you,” he said. Quickly he added, “I really want us to be friends.”
Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, then she looked away, blinking quickly. “You’re doing it again,” she murmured.
“What?”
“Affecting me,” she admitted, meeting his eyes shyly.
“Sorry.” He did not want to affect her, but also, he did want to affect her.
“It’s not your fault,” she said.
“You really think that's all it is? The same as with anyone else?” He asked her a little frustrated.
“Yes,” she said without looking back at him. There was an undercurrent of sadness in her voice.
He realised he was being a coward, as usual, wanting to know how she felt about him before he revealed his own feelings. “You’re wrong, you know,” he said.
“I don't think I am.”
“Why not?”
“Well... Sometimes... I can’t be sure... I don't have your abilities, but sometimes it seems as if you like me more than just friends.” She did not look up and he saw her cheeks turn a much brighter shade of pink than usual.
“I'm trying hard not to,” he insisted.
He watched in horror as pain twisted her expression and he moved away from her, wanting to put space between them because he could not handle the sudden overwhelming emotions edged on her face. Was he always going to say the wrong things to her?
The bus arrived at the bus stop and everyone climbed onto it, one after the other.
He was trying to focus on the moment, not on the girl in front of him. When she sat down, he sat down in the seat beside her. It was both enjoyable and stressful, all at the same time. What should he say to make the hurt in her eyes go away?
Being this close to her only made him want to be closer. He knew with every inch he allowed himself closer to her, her attraction for him grew. The kind of attraction he did not want from her. From her, he wanted so much more.
His hand started to move toward her but then he pulled it back quickly, folding his arms tightly across his chest and clenching his hands into fists. If he held her hand, he would only want more. Another touch, to move even closer to her, to kiss her.
Samantha folded her arms securely across her own chest, and her hands balled up into fists, just like his.
How do you feel about me? He was dying to whisper the words to her.
Samantha glanced at him and her lips parted slightly as her eyes seemed full of her own desires or, maybe, he was only seeing what he wanted to see.
He smiled at her.
Quickly, she looked away and focussed her attention on the scenery outside the window of the bus. For the rest of the bus trip, she did not move a muscle. As if moving against him by accident would be disastrous.
She was very quiet as they got off the bus and he walked her home.
At her front door, she turned to face him.
His hand lifted without conscious thought and as gently as if she was made of the most delicate paper, his fingers stroked across her cheekbone. A million different possibilities ran through his mind in an instant. Different ways he wanted to touch her. The tip of his finger traced along the shape of her lips. He was mesmerised as his eyes followed the trail his finger left on her skin. He cupped his palm under her chin and then he touched his lips to hers softly. He felt the way they dented in under his.
He had to force himself to lift his head and to move away from her. His brain was willing, but his body was very, very reluctant. Before she could utter a word, he left. He walked so fast; he was almost running.
Long after he got home, his lips were still tingling, even after he ate dinner. It was as if her lips were forever imprinted on his.
Forever.
Never would his lips kiss another pair of lips.
Never.
Needing to focus his thoughts, he spent the rest of the night listening to music, as loudly as his eardrums could handle. He let the music infuse him, wrap around him until the last of his concerns had faded away. Almost.
SHE LOOKED SURPRISED to see him already sitting outside her house when she walked out of her front door the next morning.
Had she not figured out yet that he was unable to stay away from her?
He considered knocking on her door just after he arrived, but he did not want to come face to face with Bruce, her stepfather, again. Bruce filled him with a deep sense of loathing, and he was sure, thanks to his abilities, the feeling was mutual.
Today, he was determined not to let any of his emotions for Samantha come to the surface. He was determined to find out how she felt about him first. It would likely be wishful thinking, a far-fetched idea, to hope she loved him, but he had to determine if she at least liked him enough, before he unleashed the full power of his emotions on her.
“Good morning,” he said softly, smiling at her expression as she saw him. He noticed she looked paler than normal; her eyes were a little red-rimmed. He asked concerned, “How are you?”
“I'm okay, thanks,” she answered casually. She smiled, but the skin below her eyes looked shadowy.
He could tell there was something wrong. “You look tired,” he said, growing worried.
“I'm okay. Really,” she insisted. “So, what did you do last night?” She diverted the topic of conversation away from her.
He wished he could confess he had spent the night thinking about her, but first, he needed to know, he had to be sure. Once he was sure, it would all be okay. He did not want to be in a relationship with her and always wonder if what she felt for him was real. Usually, he did not care, but this time it was different.
She laughed softly. “I think you're right. There is something seriously wrong with you.”
He looked at her as a feeling of hurt crushed him.
She continued, “Yesterday, you basically told me you are trying really hard not to like me, and then on the bus, it felt like...” She sighed loudly. “Daryl? What I'm trying to say is, what was that kiss all about?”
He did not want to discuss the matter of his heart in front of her house. “Can we go to the park?”
She looked sad and concerned, and that was the last thing he wanted. He never wanted her to worry about him, when it was patently obvious, she was the one he needed to worry about.
“What's going on out here?”
Daryl felt an immediate feeling of aggression, even before he heard Bruce’s voice. “Not good,” he said under his breath, wondering if he could take Samantha away to somewhere. A place where she would never have to deal with Bruce ever again.
“Nothing.” Samantha turned away from Daryl to speak to Bruce.
Daryl looked at Samantha and willed himself to remain calm.
She told Bruce, “I'm going to the park.”
“And the milk you were supposed to get?”
She sighed. “I'll get it.” She looked at Daryl apologetically. “Do you mind?”
He shook his head and fell into step with her, as they walked to the corner shop two streets away.
She asked, “So, are you going to tell me if I should be concerned about your emotional state?”
“My emotional state?”
“Yeah, the mood swings.” She smiled.
“You're not like anyone I've ever known.” He glanced at her. “You fascinate me.”
She frowned a little. “Because I'm the first person whose feelings you cannot feel?”
“No, it's not just that. Well... I suppose my fascination with you started with the fact I did not know what you were feeling.”
She looked at him a little more interested than usual. “Have you always known you didn't know what my feelings are?”
“To be honest, I don't know. Remember the day of our Technology exam?”
She looked at him curiously. “Not really.”
He hated to bring him into their conversation. “The day you met Chris?”
“Oh, yes. I remember.”
Typical of her to remember the day she met Chris. Wait. Does it mean she does have feelings for Chris? He pushed aside his feelings of frustration. “That's the day I noticed I could not feel your emotions.”
“Why?
“I don't really know.”
“But why that day? We have always been kind of friends, haven't we?”
“And that's why I never really noticed before because we were only friends. I wasn't...” He knew he should not say it and he knew it would hurt her, but unfortunately, it was the price to pay for being brutally honest. “I wasn't interested to know what you were feeling, so I never really tried to see if I could.” At that moment, he felt a small sliver of her pain pierce his heart.
She avoided looking at him. “I think I know what it was,” she said.
“Tell me.”
THEY HAD REACHED THE small corner shop.
“This will be quick,” she said as she walked into the shop, leaving him outside.
He waited on the sidewalk for her, leaning against the wall and watching the traffic drive by. Minutes later she joined him again, holding a two-litre plastic bottle of milk by its handle.
He looked at her and saw she was trying to avoid him. He did not want her to avoid him, so he tried to explain, “Samantha, with this... Special abilities of mine, I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are mostly predictable and sometimes downright mean. You, on the other hand, pull me in more than anyone. Even though I do not have a clue what your feelings are, there is something else about you. It does not feel the same as it feels, with everyone else.”
They had reached her house and he waited outside again, as she took the milk inside. When she came back outside, she looked sad. Although he was tempted to ask her why she looked unhappy, he did not want to make her feel uncomfortable.
Together they walked to the park, without speaking. She looked troubled and he did not want to add to it by burdening her with his problem of loving her and not knowing is she at least liked him.
“Why are you feeling sad?” He asked, unable to stop himself.
“I thought you couldn't tell what I’m feeling,” she said lightly. He could see she was pretending to be unperturbed and carefree.
“Just because I have absolutely no idea what you’re feeling, I can still read your facial expressions, you know.”
She looked close to tears.
“What's wrong?” He wished she would just tell him.
When she still didn't speak, he sighed deeply. “Do you rather want to go home?” Maybe she was upset because she felt obliged to spend her Sunday with him. If he was not waiting for her when she left her house to go the shop to buy milk, she would not feel forced to go to the park with him now.
“Make up your mind, Daryl,” she said angrily. She stopped walking and glared at him.
He realised she was really waiting for him to decide, so he started to walk toward the park again because selfishly he wanted to spend the entire day with her. All day, every day, in fact.
Occasionally, he noticed her glancing in his direction, though her expression was unreadable. Hoping to break her from her sullen mood, he started asking her questions about anything and everything he could think of to try to make her smile. Eventually, she started to relax.
They slowed down a bit as the sun-drenched park came into view.
He wanted to stop and sit down on the nearest bench shaded by a large tree, its branches covered with lush green leaves, but she reached out and took his hand, leading him further into the park. When they reached a quiet, secluded area where it seemed as if the biggest pool of sunlight was collected in one catchment area, she gently pulled him down with her.
He laid down on his back, squinting up at the pale blue sky and then closed his eyes. Even though his eyes were closed he sensed her every movement and he did not expect her to lay down so close next to him that her arm brushed against his briefly.
Every now and then, he would peek at her through his barely opened eyes, but he did not want to say a word which could spoil the perfect moment.
Then, he felt her fingers brush against the back of his hand.
“I really like you,” he whispered, fighting against the pain he knew would come if she rejected him or worse yet, started laughing at how ridiculous he sounded.
She turned onto her side and faced him.
He felt every muscle in his body pull tightly in onto itself when she let her trembling fingertips trace along his arm.
He opened his eyes to look up at her and watched her face. Was she going to say something? Anything, at all? “Tell me what you're feeling,” he said softly. “It's killing me not knowing.”
“Welcome to my world.” She smiled a little mischievously.
“Tell me,” he insisted gently.
“I'm afraid to tell you.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Afraid, once you know how I feel you won't be interested in me anymore.”
He lifted his head closer to hers and propped himself up on his elbows. “I'll never hurt you,” he vowed. If she allowed him, he would spend his entire existence making sure she never had any reason to ever be afraid.
“Do you fall in love often?” She asked.
“Hardly.” He smiled, holding her gaze with his own. “You?”
“No.”
Just no? He was starting to feel frustrated again, and once again, he wished he knew what she was feeling. It was the only wish he had since that first morning she awakened something in him.
He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair. Slowly he lifted his head closer to her face, keeping his eyes locked with hers. He let his fingers trace down from her face to her neck. When his hand finally rested on her shoulder, he let his fingers trace along the length of her collarbone.
Her fingers touched his cheek and he wanted to lean into her touch. Then her fingers moved to his chin and eventually his lips.
Without meaning to, he opened his mouth and let out the breath he had not realised he was holding. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? With her face inches away from his and her moist lips parted, he moved even closer to her. He watched her eyes drift close, so he let his own eyes close and pressed his lips to hers.
WITH A SIGH, HE NOTICED the sun was setting. “We have to go,” he muttered. They were secluded here in their little corner of the park, their own little world away from the bigger world with all its feelings and pain.
Is this how the rest of humanity goes into relationships? Blind? It was uncharted territory for him. He had always been so used to knowing how a girl felt about him and it usually made him self-assured and confident in his relationships. With Samantha, he was groping in the dark, not yet literally, hopefully soon, but he had no clue what she was feeling, and this made him feel insecure and unsure.
“I promised my mum, I'd be home by sunset,” she said.
“I know.”
“How?”
“When you took in the milk, you left the front door open and I heard a little of your conversation, not a lot, it was mostly just the sound of voices.”
She sighed. “Sorry.”
He smiled as he pulled her closer to him again. “Don't be sorry.” He did not want her to know he heard Bruce and the way he talked to her. He knew he had to help her, but he was not sure how. Did he phone the police? Was it as bad as it sounded? Granted, he could feel Bruce’s aggressive nature, but her mother would not stay if the situation was bad, would she? If Bruce was being abusive, Samantha and her mother would have looked for help already. Sometimes, people were just loud. Sometimes, people just drank too much.
She stood up and reached for his hand. “I really have to go.”
He stood up and brushed the grass from his jeans.
She nudged her shoulder against his playfully and started walking toward the exit gates of the park.
He followed her willingly.
When they reached her front door, he said, “I'm sorry, I kept you out all day.”
“It’s okay,” she said. She seemed as unwilling to leave as he was to let her go. “Stay patient with me, I’m just afraid, is all,” she said firmly, shocking him by being so straightforward. She took a step away from him. “I can't invite you in, it would just aggravate Bruce.” She smiled forlornly. “And it's best to keep him calm, especially at this time of the day.” He watched as she inched herself past the half open door. “See you tomorrow.”
He nodded and then watched as she softly closed the door.
He walked home with his hands pushed deeply into his jean’s pockets. Another sleepless night loomed ahead of him. It seemed as if there was nothing as powerful as unrequited love to keep him up at night. Not knowing what she was feeling was refreshing, and in a way made him more selfish because he was only aware of his own desires and needs. Her lips on his were the most magnificent feeling, soft and tender. Her fingers reaching up, pushing themselves through his hair, securing his lips to hers was magical. Feeling her perfect warmth under the palms of his hands made perfect sense.
A grin spread across his face as he realised, he loved her unconditionally, forever, even if he never really knew how she felt. Even, if she hated the ground he walked upon, he would still love her.
*
HE WOKE UP TO THE SMELL of fried bacon.
From Mondays through to Saturdays he usually grabbed a bowl of cereal, some days he did not have breakfast at all, especially when he was running late.
On Sundays, before he became aware of Samantha, he often woke up minutes before he had to sit at the table for their Sunday Roast. On Bank Holidays, his mum made a huge breakfast fry-up and then she took off the rest of the day and the family had to fend for themselves.
Elated, he pushed the blankets from him and jumped from his bed. Pulling on his jeans, he scanned the room for his trainers. In the bathroom, he quickly brushed his teeth and pulled a hand full of water through his hair.
After rushing down the stairs and saying, “Good morning,” to his parents, he judged how long it would be before breakfast was served. He asked his mum, “Can I invite Samantha to breakfast?”
His mum turned to look at him with a curious look on her face. Her look made him feel a little self-conscious. “Sure, but you'll have to be quick. I'm almost serving.”
He took the stairs to his room two by two and then fell onto his bed while grabbing his phone at the same time. A much-practised skill.
He scrolled through his list of contacts and selected her number and waited for her to answer her phone. An unprecedented feeling of worry started to fill him when her phone rang and rang, then he sighed loudly with relief when he heard her voice.
“Hello,” she said.
“Samantha?”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “Yeah.”
“Do you have plans today?”
“Um... Not that I know of. You?”
“I wanted to invite you for breakfast, to make up for letting you basically starve yesterday.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Right now?”
He laughed. “Yeah. In ten minutes or so.”
“Okay.” She sounded as if she was not entirely sure.
“Should I fetch you?”
“No. I'll be there in ten minutes.”
“See you.”
She ended the call without saying goodbye.
He lay on his bed, staring up at his phone for a while and then quickly attempted to clean his room. He shoved all the shoes on his floor into his cupboard, picked up his dirty clothes off the floor and stuffed them into the hamper in the bathroom. He pushed all the papers on his desk into the drawers. When there was a knock at the front door, he scanned the room quickly making sure there was nothing embarrassing still in plain sight.
HE WAS THRILLED TO see Samantha. It felt as if he had not seen her for the longest time. “Come meet my family,” he said as he pulled her into the house by her hand.
She swallowed audibly; nervousness painted all over her face.
He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Are you nervous?”
“Yes,” she said timidly, and he wanted to scoop her up and kiss her right there.
“Don't worry,” he said with a guileful grin. “I'll protect you.”
“I'm afraid they won't... Like me.” She looked genuinely afraid.
He joked, “You are extremely likeable.”
In the kitchen, he introduced her to his mum and dad. Chris was nursing a hangover from the night before and he only glanced up and grunted something unintelligible.
“Let's eat,” his mum announced, and they moved to the dining room.
On the table, there was everything a hungry stomach could desire for breakfast. It was normal for Daryl, but he saw Samantha hesitate for a second as if she could not understand what was going on.
She whispered close to his ear, and he could not help the shiver of pleasure down his spine when her breath tickled the nape of his neck. “Is it someone's birthday?” She took a step away from him, and the look on her face was shocked and cute and amazing and made him want to pull her into his arms, never to let her go. “Yours?”
He smiled. “No. It's a Foley tradition. Bank Holiday Feast.” Glancing at his mum amused, he added, “My mum feeds us on days like these early and then she takes the rest of the day off. By tonight, we'll all be hungry again, but she does not care, she just ignores us while she sits in front of the Telly catching up on all the soaps she's missed during the week.” He could not understand why Samantha suddenly looked so sombre.
As always, the Foley family laughed and joked around the breakfast table, even Chris managed to ignore his pounding headache, and his parents were great. They pulled Samantha into their conversations effortlessly, asking her questions without being intrusive and making her feel at home.
After breakfast, he asked cheerfully, “Do you want to listen to some music in my room?”
“Sure.” She gave him a curious look. “Shouldn't we help with the dishes first?”
He started saying, “My mum is very territorial.”
His mum interrupted him, “Thanks for offering, Samantha, but it's really okay. I like doing it, menial tasks give me a chance to think.”
“Thank you again for the breakfast, Mrs Foley. It was lovely.”
“You're very welcome.” His mum smiled brightly and then he felt it. He felt her overwhelming concern for Samantha. It hit him in the pit of his stomach, and he frowned as he looked at his mum, but she only darted a preoccupied look in his direction.
Taking Samantha by the hand, he led her toward the stairs. “Come, before she changes her mind.”
They climbed the stairs slowly; her fingers were tracing the bannister on the way up. She still looked completely dumbfounded by his family as he gestured toward the portraits depicting their lives in different scenarios hanging on the wall.
“Can I be honest?” She startled him.
He smiled down at her where she was standing two steps below him. “Of course.”
“Your house looks like a total dump from outside, but it's pretty nice in here. Your mum did a good job of decorating.”
“Thanks, although I cannot take any credit for it. I had absolutely nothing to do with any of it.”
They had reached his room and he stopped to look at her face as he pushed open the door. “And this is my domain from where I rule,” he tried to joke, but it only sounded silly. He felt nervous letting her see where he slept, where he dreamt, where his every thought centred around her.
She walked in slowly and glanced at his music collection.
He turned on the music, letting it fill the room quietly and she smiled. He hoped he did not look like a sap, so he shrugged indifferently and smiled at her in return.
She stood in the middle of his room and her arms were twined nervously in front of her body.
Standing in front of her, he let his fingers drift over her arms to the tips of her fingers. Gently he loosened her tautly wrapped fingers and pulled her to the bed with him. He scrutinised her expression. It was nervous and anxious. At the edge of the bed, he turned her away from him and then locked his arms around her waist from behind.
As they fell onto the bed, she breathed in deeply. She was trying to wiggle out of his hold, but it felt too nice, too warm and he was not ready to let go. He curled her into his embrace, so she was pressed tightly against his chest.
She made one more attempt to pull out from his grip around her body before relaxing and sinking into him. Her hair tickled his skin, but he did not want to loosen his hold on her, knowing she would scurry away at the first opportunity she got.
“This is nice,” he said as he breathed out.
“Can I get up now?” She asked, trying once again to work her way out of his arms.
He laughed at how little effort she was putting into her escape attempt. “No.” After a while, he added, “Listen to the music, let it soothe you. After a big breakfast, you need to give your body a moment to recover.”
“You're not supposed to lay down after a meal.” She was trying to turn around to face him.
“Whatever. I don't care what everyone says. It feels nice, so it must be right. Right?” He held her in place, by pulling her closer to his chest. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he planted a soft kiss on her earlobe.
She shivered. “You think that's a good idea?”
“The door is open, and I’d never do that to you. Anyway, before I'll let you take advantage of me, I’ll have to hear three little words from you.”
She laughed softly. “Pretty please, Daryl.”
“Guess again.”
“How many guesses do I get?” She asked amused.
“You? You get several.”
“Let's do it.”
He was shocked. “What?”
Her laughter was louder. Even though he could not see her face, he was trying a new experiment of sorts. He wanted to see if he could know what she was feeling without having to read her facial expressions, without having to look into her eyes. Will the tone of her voice reveal her emotions?
“Don't get ideas.” She pushed back with her heel and it connected with his shin. “I'm still guessing.”
He wanted to ask her if she was okay. Why did his mum's concern for her hit him like a demolition ball in the guts? However, he did not want to spoil the moment.
She surprised him when she asked softly, “Why do you always seem so mad with me?”
“I'm never mad at you,” he clarified, wondering how she could ever think he was angry with her. “Sometimes I do feel frustrated,” he admitted. “But with me, always with me.” He cherished her, was captivated by her. “Don't you understand?” It sounded like he was begging.
“Why do you feel frustrated?” She asked, sounding unsure.
He put his cheek against the curve of her back and listened to the steady rhythm of her heart. He felt overwhelmed by how much he loved her. He whispered, “Not knowing what you’re feeling makes me feel uncertain, that's all. I'm not used to it.”
She moved her head and glanced at him over her shoulder. Again, she tried to turn onto her back, but he held her in place. After all, they were in his bedroom, his parents and Chris would be lurking in the passages and on the stairs. If she turned over, he would want to kiss her again and again and again. It was better if they stayed like this.
He did not need her to say anything. All he needed was to be with her and know she was happy enough to be with him. “Now, please try to behave yourself,” he teased as he settled his head back on the pillow behind hers and took a deep breath of the smell of her hair.
*
THEY MUST HAVE FALLEN asleep because he jumped with fright when his mum asked, “Can I come in?”
Samantha was nestled close to him, her hair was all over his face, the smell filled him with a feeling of nostalgia. She felt warm, calm and peaceful. Her breathing was soft and relaxed.
Then she jerked awake and sat up, his arm slipping from her waist. Hurriedly she pushed her hair away from her face and he saw her cheeks turn a bright crimson colour.
“Mum?” he asked sleepily, trying to wake up completely. He cannot remember when last, he had slept so deeply.
His mum smiled. “You two look so cute, I didn’t want to wake you, but it's seven o'clock already.”
WHEN HIS MUM ANNOUNCED it was seven o'clock already, Samantha leaped from his bed and ran from his room, rushed down the steps and he only caught up with her when she was opening his front door. At the door, he grabbed onto her hand and turned her to look at him. “What's wrong?” He implored.
“I have to go,” she said as she pulled her hand from his loose grip. “Tell your parents I said bye and thank you for everything.”
“Wait,” he insisted. “I'll walk you home.”
“No. It's okay.” She looked at him and smiled, but the smile did not make her eyes sparkle as they sometimes did. “Really. You don't have to.”
“I want to.” Across his shoulder, he called into the house. “I'm walking Samantha home quickly, she's late.”
She walked fast, but he kept up with her. At the corner of her street, she tried to get rid of him, but he insisted he wanted to walk her to her door.
As they reached her house, Bruce opened the door with a forced smile and Daryl could see Samantha hovering nervously in front of him. She was giving Bruce the strangest look, almost like she was willing him not to humiliate her.
“Come on in, Daryl,” he said politely, though his aggression swept over Daryl like a flash flood.
“Thank you,” Daryl said. He was not sure what to call Bruce. He did not know his last name and instinctively he knew calling him by his first name would be construed as disrespect.
“Go ahead and call me Bruce.”
“Thanks, sir.”
Bruce seemed pleased with being called sir.
In the front room, Bruce said, “Have a seat there, Daryl.”
Daryl sat down on the chair beside the couch and braced himself. Inexplicably, Samantha looked embarrassed. Granted, the house was a wreck, but it was not her fault and she should not have to feel uncomfortable in her own home.
Bruce was glaring at Daryl from the chair opposite him.
They sat in silence for a minute or two until Samantha took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, standing up and clearly ready for the awkward moment to be over. “Daryl needs to get home.”
Daryl could feel Bruce's aggravation escalate. His jaw was clenched tightly, and it was a struggle to keep himself from not reaching out to hold onto Samantha. Everything in him wanted to wrap his arms around her, protect her, shelter her from whatever was coming. Bruce's racing emotions reminded him of the necessity of staying calm. Daryl tried hard to remain serene and to let the feeling of calmness permeate him, but as hard as he tried, he could not get himself to relax.
There was utter silence for a moment until Samantha said, “Daryl is leaving now.” Her eyes were pleading with Daryl to go.
Daryl had the odd, very painful feeling he should not go. He needed to protect her. He read her lips as she mouthed, “Please.”
So, he left.
Not his proudest moment, either.
*
HE WOKE UP FROM A DREAMLESS sleep when it felt as if something punched him in his stomach so violently it expelled his breath.
Sitting up, he grabbed hold of his abdomen and rubbed it absent-mindedly. It was still pitch-black outside and the glow from the streetlamp outside his window still filled his room with an orange luminosity.
He had a feeling in his gut there was something wrong at Samantha's house. He knew intuitively she needed him, and he had to hurry.
Quickly, he shoved his bedding from his legs and hurriedly got dressed. Leaving the safety of his home behind and having absolutely no regard for the fact he was about to hurl himself at Bruce single handed he ran at full speed down the road toward her house, five streets away.
For the second time in less than a week, less than seven days, there was an ambulance standing outside her house when he ran around the corner of her street.
His eyes darted along the sidewalk to see if she was standing outside again, but she was nowhere to be seen.
The moment he entered her house, the smell of blood assaulted his senses. His jaw and fists tightened simultaneously. He wanted to rip Bruce apart, make him suffer the way he had made Samantha and her mother suffer.
Samantha had convinced him that Bruce was harmless, but he knew. Deep down, he knew Bruce was not harmless. Guilt filled him because even though he had made a vow to keep her safe, he completely ignored her real danger. Stupidly, naively, he thought her greatest danger was not knowing how much he loved her, and although he felt an instinctive need to protect her, he had failed her.
His eyes scanned the downstairs room. It looked as if a hurricane had blown through the small enclosed space. However shabby it had looked before; it was now completely destroyed. His eyes settled on a shape huddled in the farthest corner. Misshapen and mangled, Samantha's mother was no longer crying for help. A paramedic was hunched over her, talking to her softly and treating a deep gash on her cheek.
A policeman was shoving Bruce face first into a wall and cuffed his wrists behind his back, while another policeman was reading him his rights.
Where was Samantha?
An unfathomable panic filled Daryl. It almost paralysed him in its intensity.
He ran up the stairs and then stopped dead in his tracks.
There was blood everywhere.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her.
Her body on her bedroom floor was contorted, her hair was matted with blood.
“Oh no, Samantha, no!” He screamed, his gaze quickly shifting to the two paramedics on either side of her. He could not imagine her pain and he wished with all his heart, he could feel every drop of what she was feeling and make it his instead of hers.
He watched as the paramedic inspected every bone and bloody wound on her body. As the paramedic pressed his hands gently onto her chest, he could see her ribs twist and move in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Surely the pain was unbearable, and she would wake up crying at any moment. Though he was thankful she did not have to endure the agony, the still lifelessness of her body as the paramedic examined her was making him anxious.
“Samantha, please!” He cried involuntarily, willing her to make just one sound, any sound to assure him she was alive.
The paramedic said to his partner, “Watch out for her leg, it's broken.”
The monster broke her.
“Some of her ribs, too,” the other paramedic added softly.
After they gently lifted her onto a stretcher, they had to walk past the spot where his feet were glued to the ground.
“She's lost some blood,” the paramedic told Daryl as they carefully carried Samantha on the stretcher down the stairs. He gave Daryl a sympathetic look.
Some blood... Daryl’s eyes scanned the mildewed walls, which now had a creative swirl of burgundy red splashed onto it.
“Daryl,” she whispered, her voice was strained.
He ran down the stairs as fast as he could without falling. When he eventually managed to get next to the stretcher, a policeman held him back. As hard as Daryl tried to get away from the policeman, he was determined not to let Daryl near her. The policeman kept asking who he was, but at that moment Daryl was not interested in what he wanted.
He called out to her as she was being lifted into the back of the ambulance, “Samantha, you're going to be okay,” he promised her. He felt overwhelmed by his emotions and the possibility of losing her because he was not paying closer attention to her situation.
He knew.
He did nothing.
“Can you hear me, Samantha? I love you.”
She said something but he could not hear her words with the noise surrounding them.
“I'm here. I'm so sorry.” The last statement got Daryl some added attention from the policeman.
The paramedics started closing the doors of the ambulance and Daryl noticed her mother already in there, sitting on a chair. It seemed as if Samantha had suffered the greatest under the onslaught of Bruce's fury.
THE DRIVE TO THE HOSPITAL seemed endless, but it could not have been more than twenty minutes.
He sat in the back seat while his mum and dad sat in the front.
After he left Samantha's house, he ran home and woke his parents. He saw the same guilt and knowledge he felt, in his mum's eyes. At the hospital, he was allowed into her room, while his parents waited for him in the waiting area.
She was strapped to a lot of monitors and careful not to pull at any of the tubes or wires she was connected to, he sat down gently on the edge of her bed. It was so painful to see Samantha broken this way, and even more difficult because he knew it was going to happen and he did nothing.
“I'm so sorry, Samantha,” he whispered. He paused for a moment, wishing for a sign she could hear him, as he listened to her heart on the monitor. “The doctors are taking good care of you,” he said, trying to comfort and reassure her. “Your mum is fine, and she'll probably be able to visit you soon. I want you to know I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to watch over you, just like I said I would, but didn't. Sleep, Samantha, and even if you cannot find a way to forgive me, I'll be right here when you wake up.”
A nurse came into the room. “We're taking Samantha for some x-rays now. Why don't you try to get some rest?”
He knew they would not allow him to follow her everywhere. The only reason he was allowed to go into her hospital room was because, according to the nurse, she kept asking for him before she had lost consciousness.
It turned out she had as many broken bones as the paramedic predicted, but luckily, they found no signs of internal bleeding.
His mum and dad went home, but he stayed with Samantha through the night. Her heartbeat remained regular and her breathing was steady. Occasionally one of the nurses would come in to check on her.
*
THE NEXT MORNING HIS mum brought him down to the cafeteria to have something to eat.
“How did you know?” His mum asked him, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup.
“I woke up and had this overwhelming feeling there was something wrong.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“That's it? Seems a little odd, doesn't it?” She glanced at his dad sitting beside her.
“I know,” he answered as calmly as he could. “It's not something I can explain.”
His mum watched him silently for a moment. “She really means a lot to you, doesn't she?” She finally asked.
“More than anything in the world,” he told her truthfully.
His mum reached across the table and placed her warm hand over his. She said softly, “We are all connected, so usually people have the ability to feel the way other’s feel because it is a part of us. However, you are more sensitive to the energies of other people because you have empathic abilities.”
Daryl sat back in his chair shocked. He thought nobody knew.
His mum smiled. “I’ve always known, Daryl. Since the day you were born. The way you could light up a room with your smile, the way you can turn a room moody when you were in a sullen mood.”
He interrupted her, “You?”
“Maybe, a little,” she said reassuringly. “But, you... You are a vessel for all the emotions of the world. We thought you had grown out of it and you just had the normal heightened instincts some people have, until you met Samantha. It was as if she awoke something more in you.”
He looked at her with a guilty expression on his face. “I could still do it. I used to make girls like me, even if maybe they wouldn’t have liked me if I did not make them like me.”
His dad laughed softly. “That’s all part of growing up and we all want people to like us, even when it was easier for you than most others.”
His mum gave his dad an admonishing look. “Having empathic abilities can feel somewhat uncomfortable,” she said. “And because you are deeply connected to Samantha, her emotions would definitely affect your emotions more strongly than in any other relationship you’ve ever had. Some empaths need to be close to a person to know what they’re feeling. They enter a room or talk to someone and suddenly find themselves feeling a certain way they did not feel before. Often, they are most aware of suddenly taking on negative feelings, such as sadness or anger. Of course, empaths also pick up positive and joyous feelings from other people, but these positive feelings may not be as noticeable as the sudden impact and effect of taking on negative feelings.”
“I think that’s what happened with Samantha. We’ve always kind of been friendly, and then one day she walked into the class and I felt hot and it felt as if it was hard to breathe.”
His mum smiled sympathetically. “And that’s the day you noticed her properly.”
He nodded his head.
His mum looked concerned. “Something painful must have happened to her that day.”
“But I don’t know what Samantha’s feeling. I’ve tried, but it is as if she blocks me, and I don’t know how. Yet, I felt her emotions last night, it even woke me from sleep.”
His mum asked, lowering her voice even more, “Is she happy at home?”
Daryl shook his head.
His mum said, “The four walls of a house is supposed to be our safest place, but sometimes there are dangers which grow subtly, insidiously. When people are in an abusive environment, they don't stay for the pain. Their desperate, often palpable hope is that the abuse will go away and they tend to block out all feelings and emotions associated with the abuse. Many people in abusive relationships suffer from post-traumatic stress syndrome and one symptom of this is dissociation, which often creates such profound detachment from the reality of the abuse that sufferers scarcely remember being hurt at all.”
“Are you saying Samantha has no feelings at all, and that’s why I cannot feel them?” Daryl asked with a look of confusion on his face.
His mum smiled sadly. “I think Samantha decided it would be better for her not to feel anything at all.”
“What should I do?” Daryl asked.
“Tell her that whenever she is feeling sad, lonely or depressed she only needs to close her eyes and breathe in your love because you are always with her. You can turn your empathy into a physical phenomenon by projecting the way you feel about her.”
THAT EVENING HE GRABBED a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar from the dispenser down the hall and texted his parents to let them know he was okay.
After everything in the ward went quiet, he moved his chair closer to her bed, watching her closely. He wondered if she could ever forgive him for not being there for her. He remembered the way Bruce held onto her elbow the first time he went to her house, then the bruises he saw there, which she told him was from a bump against the bannister. He felt guilty because even though he put two and two together, he still did nothing. He did not want to interfere. He did not want to poke his nose where it did not belong.
This feeling of knowing made him feel wretched.
He was unforgivable.
He looked away from her and dropped his head, letting his forehead rest against her limp hand on the white sheet.
He should have been there for her.
He promised.
Then he remembered. The note she dropped on the floor. A couple of words scribbled across its crumpled surface: I want to die.
Why did he ignore all the signs?
She took several shallow breaths until finally her eyes fluttered open, but he did not want to startle her, so he did not make a move, letting her adjust to her surroundings first.
“Mum?” Her voice was soft and scared.
“She's okay,” he reassured her.
“Daryl?” She muttered, turning her head slowly until her eyes were locked with his.
“Everything's all right now,” he said softly.
“What happened?” She asked, confusion written all over her face.
He wondered how much she remembered and how much he was allowed to tell her.
Her entire face flinched with pain as she remembered. “I was so stupid, Daryl. I protected him,” she said. Panicked her eyes darted around the room. “Where's my mum?”
“She's in a different ward, but she'll be fine.”
“She's here?” She asked, trying to sit up.
“She's okay. Don't worry. You need to get better, as well.”
“It’s all my fault,” she said, sounding disappointed.
“Don't worry about that now. Just get better.”
“How bad is it?” She tried to smile, but she looked more embarrassed than anything else.
She was blaming herself and looked humiliated about a situation she had no control over. It was more than he could handle. There was a time he would have been able to handle it, when he would have shrugged it away, when he would have felt the feelings rush through him and then quickly shoved them away before they could overpower him, but with Samantha, he could not do any of that. He did not want to ignore her pain or her suffering, he wanted to fix the situation and he wanted her to be happy. He took a deep breath. “You have a broken leg, two broken ribs and bruises covering every inch of your skin.”
“How did you know?” She asked.
“You remember me being there?”
She nodded her head, just a little.
“I woke up and I just knew.” He smiled bashfully. “Not yet sure how I knew, seeing as you are such a mystery to me, but I knew.”
She was staring up at him and in that moment, he knew she remembered every detail about that horrific night. A night he would always remember because of his negligence. Samantha had suffered more than anyone should ever have to.
“The feeling was unbearable,” he said softly. “Which means I do feel something from you... I can sense your emotions, but maybe only when you are really distressed.” It dawned on him. “Do you think that's what happened that day of our Technology exam? Were you deeply upset about something?”
Her eyes looked away from him.
“You were.” His voice was soft. “Why?” He would give anything to know.
“That day was the first time he hit me.” Her hand moved to the area just below her ribs, as if she was not even aware of doing it.
Daryl felt anger rise above him like a tidal wave. It broke on him and for a moment he was unable to find his bearings as the feelings tumbled and tossed him all over the place. “You said he was harmless.” He could not keep the anger from his voice.
“I know,” she whispered.
“I cannot understand why you protected him.” He tried harder at sounding calm, wanting her to know he was not angry with her.
A tear escaped her eye. “For my mum.” Her unconditional love for her mother had driven her to endure abuse in order to keep her mum happy.
He reached for her hand. “Please. Don't cry,” he begged. “I'm sorry, but you should have told me and if not me, you should have told someone.”
She looked up at him amused. “Really? You honestly think it's that easy?”
“Where's your real dad?” He was starting to feel frustrated again.
“Never had one.”
“Of course, you have one.”
She sighed long and hard. A look of pain from taking too big a breath flickered across her face. “He's remarried and has kids of his own.”
“You are a kid of his own.” He could not keep the disbelieve from his voice.
“In the real world, it works differently.”
He noticed she was getting just as frustrated as he was, so he toned down his emotions.
“What happened to Bruce?” She asked.
Was that fear in her eyes?
“He was in custody the last time I saw him, and I hope he rots in jail,” he replied adamantly.
She had a look of lost hope when she looked up at him and then she closed her eyes. “It's always nice to hope.” Another tear ran down the side of her face.
Carefully, he leaned down toward her. Softly he let his lips brush against the side of her face. “Please, don't be sad.” Softly he touched his lips to hers. “Please. Everything will be okay now. You'll see.”
HE WOKE UP THE NEXT morning with a sharp pain in the back of his neck because he had fallen asleep with his head on his folded arms still on her bed. Her one hand was still tucked into his.
Looking up at the shadow at the door, he saw her mother standing there, unsure whether she should come in or not. Her despair and anguish filled the room like a cloud of suffocating fog.
She took a deep breath, then limped into the room.
Daryl was not sure if he should stand up to help her. Would she want his help? Instead, he nodded his head in greeting and she smiled back at him.
The right side of her face was a mass of purple. It looked like special effects from a horror movie. Her left arm was wrapped in bandage. Stopping on the other side of the bed, he stood up to walk around the bed and got a chair for her to sit on. She ignored the chair and continued standing next to the bed, staring down at Samantha with regret.
Samantha opened her eyes slowly as if she could feel her mum standing there. She whispered very softly, “Mum.”
“Samantha, I am so sorry!” She wailed.
Her pain tore through Daryl’s chest. He was contemplating leaving the room when Samantha looked past her mum to him still standing in the shadows behind her after he had pulled a chair closer for her to sit.
Samantha’s eyes implored him to stay before she looked back to her mum. “It's not your fault, Mum.”
“I'm just so...” Her mother's voice cracked.
“Please, tell me you won't let him come back,” Samantha pleaded with her mum.
“You need to get better now; we'll talk about it later.”
“No, mum. Please, don't forgive him when he says he's sorry. He'll just hurt you again.”
“I know,” her mum said. “I know.”
Samantha made a pained sound and Daryl rushed forward to make sure she was okay. “What hurts? Must I call a nurse?”
“It's okay,” she said, smiling at him faintly. “I just have to remember not to breathe too deeply.”
Her mother hesitated for a moment, looking first at Daryl then back at Samantha. “This is not the time to discuss this, I know, but I was thinking we should move away from here. It may be our only chance to escape Bruce.” Her voice sounded desperate and hopeless.
Daryl felt his chest tighten. Obviously, it was the smartest choice and the safest for Samantha, but he did not want to say goodbye to her.
“Or you could just say no, Mum,” Samantha said.
There was no reason to continue putting herself in constant danger by remaining here and the only thing that really mattered was that she would be safe. At the moment, he could not imagine how he would be able to let her go, yet he knew he was going to have to try.
“Let him go to jail, Mum. Make a statement and this time don't retract it. Please, I am begging you not to take him back.” Her voice was getting high pitched even though she was still talking softly.
Her mum looked at Samantha defeated. “He already phoned me, and he is really sorry, Samantha. He promised he'd never hurt me... Or you, again, and I believe him.”
Samantha asked shocked, “After what he did? The next time he might kill you. Is that what you want?” Samantha started crying. “Do you even remember? Do you remember the fear and the horror? You know, deep inside somewhere, you know he'll do it again and again.” Sobs shuddered through her body now and her hand came up to her chest to push against her sore ribs.
Daryl wanted her mum to leave the room, she was upsetting Samantha and she was really upsetting him. The emotions in the room were overwhelming.
“Mum,” Samantha said, her voice almost a whisper again.
Daryl held his breath, clinging to her every word as his own conflicted emotions warred against each other.
She said, “I want to live here... With you. I want to feel safe in my own home. We don't need Bruce. You don't need Bruce” She trailed off a little, then she insisted, “Mum, I need you. I need you to be strong... For us.”
Her mum stroked her forehead and Daryl could feel the concern and love radiating from her, so why was she putting Samantha in harm's way?
Samantha turned to look at Daryl. Her eyes were so sad and mournful, it almost broke his heart, yet she smiled. It was as if she was accepting her fate, by dismissing the obvious truth of her miserable life. “Daryl, meet my mum, Evelyn. Mum, meet Daryl.”
They nodded at each other again across Samantha's broken body but said nothing.
“I think, I’ll go back to my room now, I just wanted to pop in and see you and to say I’m sorry.” She leaned down closer to Samantha to give her a kiss goodbye. “I'll be back later,” she said. “The police want a statement from me this morning and I wanted to see you before I spoke to them.”
Samantha looked up at her mum resigned. “I love you, Mum.”
“I love you, too, Samantha. Very much.” Daryl sensed her mother’s rush of guilt.
Daryl took Samantha’s hand in his. Just as he was about to speak, a nurse walked in. “Time for more pain medication,” she announced, pulling open the curtains in front of the large windows to a bright, beautiful day. “Are you feeling peckish this morning? Ready to eat something?”
“No, no,” Samantha said firmly. “I don't need anything.”
“No need to be brave. Once the pain medication has worn off, you'll beg me for more.”
Samantha had not taken her glimmering eyes off Daryl for one second, and although had a need to touch her, to comfort her, he had to move away from her bed so that the nurse could do her job.
The nurse injected her pain medication directly into the IV line, and then took her vitals. She pulled the bedding on the bed straight, hovering around Samantha for what seemed like hours.
By the time the nurse left the room, Samantha's eyes were already fluttering closed and he smiled when he saw how hard she was trying to keep them open.
“Sleep,” he said softly. “You need your rest.”
“Stay?”
He ran the back of his fingers across her cheeks. “I'm not going anywhere.”
DURING THE WEEKS THAT followed, Samantha's mum did move to a new house, and luckily for Daryl, it was just to the other side of town, and even luckier, they did not live in a very big town.
This meant; however, Samantha and he could not walk home from school anymore and she had to bus it home, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Shortly after leaving the hospital, Evelyn went to a support group for women of domestic abuse, as suggested by her social worker and her doctor. The support group encouraged her to take positive steps for their safety and well-being.
Daryl always thought it would be easy for Evelyn to pack her bags and to leave Bruce, but it turned out it was a very long and difficult process for her. Bruce had demoralised her to the point where she had such a low self-esteem, she was too exhausted by life in general and maybe there was even a dash of apathy thrown in there for good measure, so she found it difficult to make decisions or even to see her future beyond Bruce.
Although Samantha was still in the hospital, the day her mum finally took the first step which could possibly change her life forever for the best, Daryl went to help her move.
When he walked into Samantha's room in her old house, horror filled him. She must have been so frightened that night, he did not even want to imagine it, and normally it was easy for him to imagine being in someone else’s situation. Usually, he could clearly imagine if he had been in a similar situation how he would feel. Even if he wanted to imagine how Samantha must have felt that night, his emotions sort of shut off as if he knew he would never be able to handle the full spectrum of the violence and aggression which took place in that room.
Silently, he helped Evelyn pack up their meagre belongings and it only filled one carload. As they were packing, she told him of her hopes and believe that things will get better – with Bruce.
Daryl was horrified as he listened to her speak, but he said nothing.
During the next four days, he even helped Evelyn to paint and redecorate their new home, while she kept telling him she still had feelings of love for Bruce and she recalled many fond memories of how things used to be. She was using Daryl as a sounding board and he did not mind. Somewhere in between her constant talking, he realised it was because Bruce controlled her, and so for Evelyn to leave him was the hardest thing she ever had to do.
Daryl wanted to remind her she had to consider Samantha. It was not fair that her choices affected her child and it was her job to protect Samantha at all costs, even if it meant she had to be braver, even though she was afraid. However, he could feel she thought it was all her fault, and if she was nicer or more the kind of person Bruce wanted her to be, he would stop being abusive.
Bruce was prosecuted, because how could anyone dispute the fact the walls in their house had a fresh coat of crimson red. There was also an occupation order in effect, which specified who could live in the house with Evelyn and Samantha. This made Daryl feel a little relieved because if Evelyn changed her mind and forgave Bruce, he would not be allowed to move back into the house with them. If ever Evelyn did decide to allow Bruce back into her life, it would be Daryl’s first and only priority to report him to the police so that he could be arrested for breaching the order.
Obviously, based on the evidence, the court decided not to give Bruce bail and he remained in custody. After appearing in court, he was asked if he admitted to the offence and he pleaded guilty. Which in turn only made Evelyn feel sorry for him, and in her twisted mind, it meant he was remorseful and that he still loved her.
In Daryl’s opinion, it would have been nonsensical for him to plead not guilty, considering he basically broke everything, including Samantha, that night. Once again, he made a vow to himself that he would never let anything like that happen to Samantha again.
A week after Samantha was discharged from the hospital, he approached her house. Instead of it taking him the fifteen minutes it used to take him to get from his house to hers, it now took him a thirty-minute bus ride.
During the past week, they had been talking on the phone and texting, but he did not want to intrude on her and her mum while they settled into their new home.
When Samantha opened the door, she looked surprised to see him.
He thought she realised after he nearly lost her, he was never going to be far away.
“Daryl, you're early,” she said.
Instead of answering her, he reached his arms out to her.
Without a moment's hesitation, Samantha rushed into his arms and rested her head against his chest. They didn't speak. They were back where they belonged, together. That is how if felt for Daryl, and he wished with his entire being it felt the same for her.
“Samantha?” he finally whispered. “Happy to be home?”
She moved away from him, out of his embrace, but twirled her fingers through his, pulling him into the house with her. “For the first time, in a very long, long time I can honestly say, yes, I am happy to be home.”
He smiled down at her and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Thanks for helping my mum,” she whispered when he pulled his lips away. “I think she needed the support; you know?”
“I enjoyed every moment. Do you like the mural I painted on your wall?”
She glanced at him. “I do.”
“Do you know why I chose that symbol specifically, for you?”
“No. Why?”
“Well... Did you know images of the sun exists all over the world and even dates back for thousands of years?”
“And?”
He smiled a little wider. “Did you know that worldwide the sun is seen as a life-giver?”
She frowned a little. “Like birth? What are you trying to say, Daryl Foley?” She punched him lightly on the arm as a faint shade of pink warmed her cheeks.
“No, silly. It symbolises new beginnings, endurance and strength.” He pulled her into his arms again. “For anyone looking to start over or who has had a rough life, the sun will hold a lot of symbolism.”
“And?” She laughed and unaware her hand came up to push against the place where she broke two of her ribs.
Daryl sincerely hoped the pain would eventually go away and she would not start to equate pain with happiness.
She cleared her throat. “Come. My mum's out.” By the hand, she led him to the lounge.
“Where's she?” He could not keep his voice from not sounding concerned.
The house felt comfy and homey, and it was strange how a relaxed atmosphere made Samantha look less tired.
She pulled him down onto the sofa next to her. “Don't worry. She's gone for a job interview.”
Surprised, he turned to look at Samantha. “Really? That's awesome.”
“I know. The support group she goes to arranged everything.”
“She still going there?”
“Yeah. I think after being used to Bruce telling her for so long what she can and cannot do, she still needs that kind of...”
“Guidance?” Daryl interrupted her, even though he knew the word Samantha was thinking of was control. “And you?” he asked her. “How are you coping?”
She folded her hand around his arm and pressed her cheek against his upper arm. She kept her eyes on the flickering images on the television screen as she said softly, he could barely hear her voice, “My mum met him when I was seven and, at first, I think I even liked him but my mum and I were really close, and I think he might have been jealous of our relationship.”
Daryl wanted to say something as he felt a feeling of grief rise from the pit of his stomach, but she continued speaking.
“He was drinking a lot and started being emotionally abusive toward me. It was only as I got older that I realised he was abusing my mum physically and that is why she gets epileptic fits, because of all the times he has hit her on the head. He never hit her when I was around though, and maybe it was because my mum saw the impending signs and always made sure I would be in my bedroom when it happened, so all I ever heard was fighting, I never saw the abuse. She made sure I never really knew what was going on.”
Daryl twirled his fingers between hers as she continued speaking.
“At first, he would just pick on me for little things or even nothing. I did my best to avoid him, but if I couldn't, he would just start yelling at me. When they were fighting, I was too afraid to go downstairs in case he chased after me as he always did. Screaming at me, backing me into a corner until I was whimpering and crying, and he would just laugh at me and walk away, satisfied by my anguish. Despite all of this, the hardest thing for me was seeing how he behaved toward my mum, the way he treated her and spoke to her, and she always just took it. He would shout at her about me, how I was a waste of space and they would have huge arguments about me. Sometimes I thought if I wasn’t around, my mum and he would be happier, and I just couldn't handle it, so I hated myself for hiding in my bedroom when she needed me most.”
His voice broke, when he said, “Don’t Samantha.”
As if she did not hear him speak, she continued, “Everything always felt as if it was all my fault. My name was brought into everything and he made sure I heard every word. He would always come charging upstairs and sometimes literally pull my mum from my room or burst in and demand to know what was happening or why we were talking about him, when we weren’t. My mum and I would be talking about something completely unrelated to him, but he would always think we were talking about him behind his back, which then turned into a fight between them, and my mum would make sure the argument continued in the kitchen. My mum and I could never spend time together because he always made sure it was never just the two of us. I had no-one to talk to, I felt isolated and lonely. Then you pulled me out of the way of that car and for some reason you made me feel like I was important. As if I did matter and was worth saving. Bruce was always trying to get inside my head, setting me up and making things up, so I started to doubt myself, and question whether I had done something wrong, or not, when in fact it was him planting ideas and telling lies. I am glad we eventually moved to a new house to get away from him but what he did will stay with me forever.”
Before he could say anything, Evelyn got home and started telling them excitedly about her job interview, and then Daryl had to say goodbye.
“See you at school tomorrow?” He asked when they were standing by her front door.
She smiled.
“Do you have any plans this Saturday?”
Her hand was on the door handle. “No, I don't think so. Why?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to spend it with me?”
“Don't I always?”
“Remember the end of year dance?” He asked, feeling unsure.
“It's this Saturday?” She looked surprised at how time had gone by so swiftly.
“Yeah. Will you go? I mean, go with me?”
THAT SATURDAY EVENING, when Samantha met Daryl at her front door, he was stunned into silence by her beauty. “You look beautiful,” he told her.
She blushed and brushed her hand down her dress nervously. “You look really nice, as well,” she said, eyeing his suit.
“You need just one more thing,” he said and held up the corsage for her to take. Thanks to Evelyn, who seemed even more excited than Samantha about the dance, the colours of the flower complimented her dress perfectly.
When they reached the venue where the end of year dance was being held, it was teeming with people. Being in overcrowded places always overwhelmed Daryl. It made him feel suffocated and overly nervous. The feeling made him want to run, to escape to a quiet, peaceful corner. However, with Samantha by his side, it was different. Just holding onto her hand, it was as if she made the noise fade to a distant hum, it was as if she created a shield around them which prevented the emotions of others to overpower him. The reason he could not feel her emotions was because she decided to stop feeling, yet she still had the ability to still the storm within him when he was with her.
After they greeted all their friends, they sat down at a table in a corner, watching all their friends dance and he knew it would be almost impossible for Samantha to dance with the cast still on her leg. Still, when a slow song came on, he asked her unsure, “Would you like to dance?”
“It's slow,” she agreed.
With her hand in his, they walked to the dance floor. On the edge, where the lights barely touched them and no-one would be able to knock into them and maybe cause Samantha to fall, he lifted her arms up and put them around his neck.
At first, she looked a little nervous, but they stood in one place, his hands draped around her waist, feeling the sway of her hips as they moved to the rhythm of the music.
She had not taken her eyes off him since they began dancing and looking into her eyes, he was pleased to see she truly did look happy.
He pulled her even closer to him, resting his cheek against her hair. Closing his eyes, it felt as if they were the only two people in the entire world.
“Daryl?” She said softly. Her warm breath tickled his ear.
“Yeah.” He did not want to open his eyes and see that, in fact, they were not alone. He liked it when it felt like it was just the two of them.
“I really like you, too. I've been meaning to tell you, but sometimes I really can't tell whether you like me or hate me.”
She laughed softly but he remained silent. He did not want to ruin the moment.
“At first I thought it was wishful thinking, but these days I get the feeling more often that you do actually like me.” She was quiet for a moment and he felt her stiffen under his hands. Her hips stopped swaying. “Daryl?”
He moved away from her just a tiny bit so that he could look at her. Not knowing what to say, he did the only thing which made any sense at that moment, he kissed her.
He lifted his lips from hers and her cheeks were flushed pink.
Then he felt a spark of something. Suddenly, he felt her love and it overwhelmed him with joy and, truth be told, with relief, that she did, after all, love him.
He felt her breath catch as he pressed his lips to hers again. His thumbs traced idly along her waist as her breathing sped up. She locked her arms around his neck and her body pressed against his.
He poured all the love he had for her into that one kiss, hoping it would be enough, that she would know exactly how he felt. Always. His love cascaded from him and enveloped them. For the first time, since he realised he loved her, he let his feelings for her flow from him without any restraint. Time seemed to stand still, and he had no idea how long they stayed locked in their embrace. He could not bring himself to care.
###
Lynette Ferreira writes sweet romance stories for teens and young adults about first love, really cute boys, kissing and all the drama. She began practising the art of imagining stories from a young age, mostly due to loneliness. Now a full-time writer, Lynette and her family call Northern Ireland home.
Visit Lynette at
I would love to know what you thought and would appreciate it if you could leave me a brief review.
Thank you!
With love,
Lynette
ALL OVER AGAIN
Recycled Souls series #0
As if it's not enough that Elizabeth had to move to the other side of the world, when she and Jared are in a car accident, she gets stuck in a coma.
Lynette Ferreira - All Over Again
MY RECYCLED SOUL
Recycled Souls series #1
What if everything did happen for a reason?
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WHEN DESTINY COLLIDES
Recycled Souls series #2
Elizabeth, Jared and Joshua are tangled in a web of past lives.
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FOREVER YOUNG
Counting Stars series #1
He came from the stars and found love on Earth.
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PAPER HEARTS
Megan believes if she can dream it then she can do it until her story changes unexpectedly.
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POCKETFUL OF HOPE
When Caitlyn meets Shayne, she is immediately drawn to his haunted and sad eyes, even though her best friend, Sophia, warns her to stay away from him because he might be contagious.
Lynette Ferreira - Pocketful of Hope
SAMANTHA AND THE EMPATH
A young adult love story about a boy who can imagine what if feels like to be someone else and a girl with a dark secret.
Lynette Ferreira - Samantha and The Empath
THE GREAT DIVIDE
The Great Divide series #1
She never knew she found him until she lost him. Lynette Ferreira - The Great Divide
WHEN WE LOVE
The Great Divide series #2
This short story is the alternative happy ending for The Great Divide.
Lynette Ferreira – When We Love
THE REAPER
When Death comes for Taylor, Daimhin is desperate to hide her.
THE SHAPE OF MY SOUL
A past she knows nothing about is back to bite her. Lynette Ferreira - The Shape of My Soul
WILLIAM THE DAMNED
A Vampire Pirate series #1
A deadly vampire should not fall in love-but that is exactly what happens to William.
Lynette Ferreira - William The Damned
THE VAMPIRE PIRATE’S DAUGHTER
A Vampire Pirate series #2
The vampire virus which was dormant in Susie grew stronger and suppressed her human cells.
Lynette Ferreira - The Vampire Pirates Daughter
THE VAMPIRE VIRUS
A Vampire Pirate series #3
Susie finds unconditional love where she wasn't even looking.
Lynette Ferreira - The Vampire Virus
RECYCLED SOULS
BOX SET
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COMING YOUR WAY SOON
ALL THE SPACE INBETWEEN
They are humanity’s only second chance.
Lynette Ferreira - All The Space Inbetween
