I'm starting my writing project (As described here.) A day early so it can be at the begining of a month. If you want to continue reading If an Immortal died I'm going to be posting it on my Wattpad. (You can also find the link in the sidebar.) every so often, as well as some other writing, possibly even some stuff never seen on my blog. *sly look*
So today's prompt is a picture that I found on Pinterest. It inspired this story.
I see both of them. Sitting there. Pam crying into her hands, Sam listening to music and looking out the window. I wish I could do something, not just sit there frozen. But both of them are right next to each other on this train, and they don’t even know it. I clutch my hands together, my left covering my right and then switching my left covering my right. I take a deep breath, wondering why they’re going away. Probably for the same reason as me. To get away from where it all happened.
I’m sure they both blame me for the whole thing. After all, I introduced them. So it must be my fault. It’s of course my fault that they insisted they were in love, it’s my fault that Sam insulted Pamela’s parents, or that Pam ran away for a week when she was mad at him. That of course is all chopped up to me. I still don’t know why this whole thing even happened, it’s my fault. But that’s how people’s minds work. Blaming someone else. Except mine.
Ever since I was a kid, I could see answers to things people didn’t know, the logical answer. What should happen. Why people felt things I never understood, why someone would cry for no reason. Why someone would not see that it’s better to take the stairs then the elevator. But that’s the way I am, and I didn’t see anything different.
Until I met Pam, who I would describe as the most normal person I know. With her perfect blonde hair, blue eyes always lined with pink eyeliner, and always wearing a red dress or leopard print. I always took it for granted that she wouldn’t get me. Because I was the corner girl, the one with weird stories and an electric guitar. And a blog no one read. But one day, she sat right down at my empty table at school and opened her mouth. And she began to talk to me, and didn’t seem to stop. Her voice filled me, always replaying in my mind. She was suddenly one of my friends. And I never quite was able to come up with a logical explanation why.
Sam was one of my only friends. We had apartments next to each other as kids, so he was like my twin brother. Artistic, free-flowing, someone I never quite got along with. So when I introduced Pam to him, I didn’t really know what would happen. But Sam was jealous of the populars and wanted to be known. So when Pam started using her moves on him, he took them right up as if they were a newly discovered Beethoven piece. I went along with it, secretly disproving, but when it all went south, I couldn't help but say I told you so. Because Sam makes decisions on the fly, telling someone exactly what he thinks and when things he doesn't want happen, he locks himself away and won’t communicate. So Pam ran off and did the same.
I haven’t seen either of them for months, and now it’s like a blast of water on the face to see them, back to back, facing opposite directions. It makes so much, sense, because it’s so true. They never saw eye to eye, and I never understood why Pam was there anyway. But things like the three of us here on accident, seems like the odds are it isn’t an accident. I stand up.
“Pamela? Samuel?” I say, my voice only a little shaky. Pam looks over at me, her face covered in tears, her eyes searching around the car for the second name I called. She glances behind her an gasps. Sam is still there, listening to his headphones and mouthing the words silently. Tears start streaming down her face, tracked with mascara, breaking through ehr mascara.
“S-Sam?” Her eyes are full of tears. “It can’t be--” I shake my head.
“Of course it is, Pam. Can’t you see?” She shakes her head.
“It’s not possible. Because I gave him up.” I shake my head.
“You ran away.” Pam sits down again, sipin her eyes with her sleeve, and I feel like I can see all the memories going through her mind. The first date I set them up on, making sure Sam bought her roses. Pam and Sam, Pam and Sam, Pam and Sam, echoing through all the gossip. The gossip works, as always. Why would he even pretend to love him? Pamuel: The talk of the school. The Headlines. “Oh my goodness.” I whisper. Pam looks at me, her eyes big. “It was for publicity! You were never even my friend, or his!” I feel emotion rising up in me, stronger than it’s ever been. “And I thought it was a change of hear.t I should have seen the facts.” I sit down, and don’t even glance at Sam. Because we didn’t leave on good terms, either.
He told me, plainly as he ever has in his life, that i was a problem, that my brain didn’t work like a human. Like I wasn’t one, because of course I’m not. It can’t be his fault, because I was supposed to know the facts. He told me everything I am and ever will be is fake. And i couldn’t tell him anything except that he was wrong. Four months have passed now we’re all trying to run away from this. Maybe you can’t run away problems. Maybe they come back to bite you. Maybe, I’m wrong sometimes. Everyone is sometimes. But I’m not often.
Now here we all stand, ignoring each other, all of us hurt. Neither Pam or I talked to Sam. We didn’t say his name, didn’t say a word to him. But I know I’m right about Pam and her publicity. Being the biggest, everyone knowing that ‘she’s not just Covergirl material, she cares.’ That’s an actual line from an article I read last month. ‘too bad this school’s best romance is over forever...or is it?’ I stare right at both of them, Pam not even trying to make any kind of eye contact, Sam somehow noticing I’m here. I take a deep breath and stand, stretching a little. Then, as the train slows and the driver announces that we're taking a stop in a tiny town, I touch Sam’s shoulder, then do the worst and most cruel thing I will ever do. I point to Pam, and then get off the train.
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