A/N: Just want to say a big big thank you to every single one of my lovely reviewers; deltadalek; Pundit; seeminglymeaningless; Abocreature; and Razzker
Preface
The window was higher than I expected and I was glad it wasn’t a three storey house. The light in Sam’s room was dim, I hoped this meant he was there but doing something in little light, maybe reading. No, because that would strain his eyes, but there was no music on. This was odd - Sam is a music fanatic. Something must be seriously wrong if the usual heavy metal wasn’t blaring out. His Mom had been crazing him to keep it down for weeks, the neighbours had started to complain, as usual he had defied her and probably turned it up louder.
I scanned the wall for any possible entrances, besides the window. It was slightly open, the gap small enough for my petite 5ft frame to squeeze through. I was only looking for the most plausible way, because in reality I didn’t need to, what I needed was an excuse. Surely he would find it a little more than odd if I admitted that I jumped 20ft in the air to get into his room? This is where I wished for the only ability I couldn‘t seem to get - invisibility. Just in case he wasn’t in, I could quickly get up to see if he was, and if he wasn’t - which I was suspicious that was true - I could just jump down and go back home, which wasn‘t far seeing as I lived across the road.
Somebody cleared their throat from above, I recognized the husky cough - a side effect of smoking. That was Sam alright. I couldn’t worry now, I’d just pretend I climbed up the drainpipe next to his sister’s room, and somehow shimmied across the narrow window ledges. Maybe he wouldn’t ask, hopefully he wouldn’t ask. It was getting late and I had no time to lose, so up I went.
Sam barely noticed me slithering into his bedroom, like some kind of burglar. I hovered slightly, the window was a little further from the floor than I first thought, I didn’t want to land with a bump. I kept my eyes locked onto the back of his head, knowing he could turn around at any minute and praying that he wouldn’t. It would have been a smooth landing if I hadn’t of stumbled up awkwardly and almost tripped over the sea of clothes, deodorant cans and other random items that were strewn across the harsh mahogany laminate. Co-ordination wasn’t my strong point, and neither was grace, but this was no time to be a lady. Sam was barely moving, but he was awake. And on Facebook, apparently. I leant against the wall for a while, watched him type my name into the search bar, and load up my profile.
As if things couldn’t get any worse for my heart right now, it sank to my stomach as my default picture loaded up. It was of me and Sam - naturally - just before we had gone to a fancy dress party. He dressed as John Lennon, and I went as Yoko Ono, we thought it was ironic, and hilarious. Nobody even got it, they assumed I was Pocahontas and he had gone as Austin Powers.
‘Daisy…’ he began, dot dot dot was not good, dot dot dot was usually followed by something serious. Those three periods made my heart sink even further, so much so that I thought it was going to fall out of my butt. I couldn’t believe he was going to write something potentially heart breaking so publicly on my wall like that. Sam was a private person. He sighed, and erased everything he had written, I relaxed a little, and watched him click off my page and return back to his own, the picture was no different to mine. He raised a hand to his head and rubbed it roughly. I stifled a gasp as I caught sight of the gash on his arm. I hadn't seen the after effects of Sam's recent ‘biking accident’ until now. It's as if crashing his own car wasn't enough damage to his body; he had to injure himself on his Dad's borrowed bike as well. I grew sick of watching and waiting, knowing that he could turn around at any point and probably dump me on the spot, for being such a stalker. I knocked lightly on Michael Jackson‘s face, sweaty on the poster, and Sam turned quickly. The startled expression on his face formed into a ‘really-didn't-want-to-see-you-tonight’ one.
“How did you get in?” He demanded, now standing and scrutinizing me. His 6ft frame towered overhead, I longed for him to put his arms around me, I would have pushed my head into his chest, breathing in that familiar boy smell that I loved. But of course, he didn’t, I suppose for someone who had obviously shimmied up his drainpipe (yes, obviously) I guess I looked kind of perfect. Not a hair out of place, no crumpled clothes, no injuries.
“Through the window.” I smiled weakly - but probably looking like a lunatic pleased as a punch she had just escaped from her cell and infiltrated a candy store, or something - attempting to rectify the situation, hoping all wasn’t lost. He’d see me standing in front of him, wearing my hair wavy the way he said he liked, and the pretty floral dress he bought me and maybe, just maybe. He wouldn’t freak out. I decided to break the awkward silence.
“Probably a little weird. Sorry.” I shuffled.
“Can’t you just use the door like a normal person?” He snapped.
I’m not a normal person, I rolled my eyes. “That’s an even worse idea than the window, I’m not exactly your Mom’s favourite person right now.”
“Well, she went to bed so, you could of.” It should have been an invitation, like he was telling me it was okay that I was here, but the tone of his voice told me otherwise.
“Good. Well not good just--” I stopped, this isn’t the usual way he greets me. Something was seriously wrong, usually he would greet me the way you greet someone you haven’t seen in months, not merely hours. I longed for the warmth of his lips more than ever, and I longed for them a lot. I loved the way he would cup my face, and gently tickle the back of my neck with his free hand. My mind drifted off, remembering our first kiss. I wondered if he remembered it as clearly as I did too, it was an accident, apparently... Our heads bumped, our noses collided but our lips didn’t seem to care. He insists that he was only going to give me a kiss on the cheek, but I turned just as his lips were millimetres from my face, and met them with my own. It probably wouldn’t matter if he was the worst kisser in the world, it was just the fact that it was him, kissing me, and that was what made it so special.
Oh wake up Daisy, he’s about to ditch you. The girl who had just clambered up a 20ft wall, through his window, uninvited just to… I looked at my feet, no wonder he was suspicious, I was not wearing shoes fit for climbing walls. They were just simple flats, but insensible for climbing that’s for sure.
“Look, Daisy. I’ve got a really bad migraine, so I’m not going to be much company.” I watched his eyes glance over to the window, obviously expecting me to exit the same way I entered, my throat tightened and I could feel my eyes slowly welling up.
“Is that why you were on Facebook?” I asked, nervously flipping my sun bleached blonde fringe to the other side.
“How long were you standing there? How come you got in so quiet?” His tone was interrogating.
“Not long, and because I’m little. God Sam, you’re acting like I’m some sort of creepy stalker,” That’s because you are. “Last time I checked I was your girlfriend, obviously a role that doesn’t mean much to you anymore.”
A glimmer of something flickered through his eyes as I finished my sentence. I couldn’t tell what it was, realisation? That I already knew was coming. Or maybe it was, no. Of course not, I mean, who are you kidding. I must be the strangest girlfriend to have, I’m definitely not high maintenance. But even so, I disappear all the time, and then turn up unexpectedly. I’m clumsy, I spill drinks unintentionally over his parents, I never let him meet my own parents, he probably thinks I’m insane. Worst girlfriend, ever. And it was all true. I had tried but, I had other, commitments.
Sam was mad, I knew because his fists were scrunched at his sides, his brows furrowed together to make one thick angry line and he had a look in his eye that you know spelled danger. Though he would never hit me, but most probably the closest thing that he could. He had a short temper, but never laid a finger on anyone, only the nearest target, a wall, a window, a locker at school - inanimate objects.
“It does,” He wasn’t very convincing. “I don’t feel too good, I think you should just--”
“--Please, don’t tell me to go,” I could feel real tears fighting to escape my eyes now, I didn‘t want to cry in front of him, I had never cried in front of anyone, let alone him. “I’ll be quiet, I promise. And then when you’re ready to talk, we’ll talk.”
This wasn’t a situation that fitted him, only me. He clenched his fists again, and then relaxed. Admitting defeat, he went over to his bed by the window and sat down, staring into the wall and not saying a word. Occasionally he would scrunch his nose in distaste, and let out a very tiny moan. Undetectable to normal, bog standard human ears, but I heard it all as if he was saying it out loud. I walked over to the bed, slowly. And sat down, saw him look at me out of the corner of his eye, and then back to the wall. I didn’t see what kind of look he gave me, but I felt about as welcome as a zit on my face. I watched him intently. Why was this so awkward? Why didn’t he just come out and say it? I knew he breaking up with me, for sure. I was doing anything I could to just keep a few more minutes as Daisy his girlfriend, or just plain Daisy who lives across the street. Or worse, Daisy his friend. I couldn’t be friends with him after he broke up with me, I couldn’t pretend like I didn’t like him, I couldn’t see him in the street and make pointless small talk, it would hurt me too much. I didn’t want to hear about the new girl he liked, or the highest score he got on COD, I wanted to be there when he got his high score, I wanted to be the girl he liked - the old one. The old one he liked and always had done. He winced in pain at his headache, and I couldn’t watch. I did something which potentially, could end everything.
“Here, let me.” I knelt on his bed, moving round so that I was now behind him. I held out my hands feeling for the temples of his forehead.
“What are you doing?” He asked quietly. I didn’t answer, I let my hands do the talking. I massaged his temples gently for a few seconds, feeling my hands heat up very quickly, I couldn’t sweat during this I had to do it right. I focused, and moved my hands to his hair. I forgot how silky soft it was all the time. Sam’s hair was one of his best features, it was chocolate brown and matched his eyes almost perfectly. It was short, but curled ever so slightly at the ends. He never did anything to it, he didn’t need to, it was gorgeous as it was. Low maintenance is him all over, simple. Everything is left as it is and all on the surface. Most of the time anyway. The smell of his coconut shampoo was strong, it could have been because my senses were heightened. But I was also trying to remember everything about this moment, potentially our last, in more ways than one. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the movement of my hands. I used my thumb and forefingers to massage through his hair, paying extra attention to the start of his sideburns, this was where most of the pain was coming from. Usually it didn’t take this long, maybe he was enjoying it so he didn’t say anything. I might have made him fall asleep.
“Where did you learn to do that?” He finally said, his voice was calmer now, happier, and relaxed. I smiled widely, not stopping. This time it was absent minded, I ruffled his hair, enjoying the smooth cool sensation on my fingers.
“My Mom went on this Indian Head Massage course, when she came home she did everybody. They were so good I got her to teach me. Guess it worked huh?” Lies.
“Its amazing.” He breathed, his face a smooth, calm image now.
I smiled widely again, pleased that I had stopped his pain. Feeling a little guilty that I had distracted him from whatever important thing he was going to tell me, I withdrew my hands from the tangles of his hair. I know it will hurt me in the long run, this buys me more time, but will only cause me more pain that I was already feeling. Removing other people’s pain came naturally to me, but I found my own near impossible. I suppose emotional hurt is always much worse than physical. I fall deeper and deeper, with every minute I spend with him.
Sam was facing me now, his hazel eyes locked onto mine. His breathing faster than usual. I could see him going over what he was going to say in his head, his expression intense. This was clearly very important. He was trying not to hurt me, to let me down as gently as possible, of course. He was kind, and probably more thoughtful than anybody I knew. But no matter what he did, it would hurt me regardless, so he should just get on with it. I couldn’t take it anymore, averted my eyes to the Batman bedcovers, eighteen years old but still a big kid at heart. I felt a hand on my knee, and placed mine on top stroking it ever so slightly, wanting to remember the last time he touched me. He was cushioning the fall, preparing me for what was next. My skin ablaze with his touch, causing my heart to beat loudly, suddenly it was back in my chest and thumping like thunder. I gripped his arm tighter, shocked at the sudden gentle caress of my face.
“Daisy I-” He began quietly.
“-What happened to your arm?”
In front of both of our eyes, the deep gash on Sam’s right arm - his writing one - faded slowly, the fleshy red part faded revealing completely flawless, olive coloured skin that matched the rest of his arm. There was not a single trace of the cut, not even a scar. It simply disappeared, the blood dried up, the inside flesh seemed as if it was sinking into the skin, until it vanished from view, leaving the brand new skin over the top, immaculate. My heart stopped beating. I froze, my whole body suddenly feeling like a statue, I didn’t breathe, I didn’t move, I didn’t look up, unable to face the horrified look I was sure had appeared on Sam’s face. I didn’t ask ‘why has your bike injury disappeared?’ because I wanted to know, it was rhetorical. That would be stupid anyway, I know exactly why it disappeared, the same reason why his headache did - me. My ‘gift’ is more of a curse, constantly hiding it and keeping it secret. Steering well clear of people I know who are wounded, or sick, knowing one single touch would erase it completely, as if it was never there. ‘Heal’ is the correct term, but it was a burden, I was pretty sure Sam was looking forward to the scar it would leave. I asked because I wanted to change the subject, trying desperately to distract him with something, anything.
Seems a stupid and utterly pointless thing to do really.
“What the hell was that?” Sam shouted, jumping up. His face confirming the dread running through my body, he looked horrified.
“Sam,” I soothed, he began to manically pace around his bedroom. His teeth were gritted, his hands balled into fists again. I could feel myself welling up for the second time, but this was not the time to cry. “There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you...”
I'm sorry. It wasn't bad, but I don't really know what good to say about it yet. I wasn't 'hooked'.
I normally review while I read, so I hope everything makes sense in the end. In your case however, because the piece was a bit longer than I was ready for, I scrolled down to read the comments and read the story first, which might make my review either a) biased or b) strongly opinionated. Regardless, here I go. Repetition in green (if there is any), comments/suggestions/corrections in red.
You know what you're doing, and it makes sense that 'Daisy...' be like that to distinguish from actual musings and typing. My bad 
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