"I will kill you!" His mother yelled and proceeded towards him, swinging the ladle in her finger.
When people say 'I will kill you', they usually mean it in a metaphorical sense but for Sam, it meant for real.
There were countless times when his mother was about to kill him, she herself being completely unaware. The reason was simple, she had a mental disorder.
A disease that is so surreal that it seems unreal at times. Doctors call it 'The Dissociative Identity Disorder' or the 'Split Personality Disorder'.
His mother's conscious had branched into 2 parts: Amelia and Alka. Amelia was a kind woman and exhibited her kindness but Alka was the precarious one, who revealed the darker subconscious.
Sam got up and headed to his mother's room. He had been in this situation quite many times and knew how to get away with it.
For some reason, Alka hated Sam's father and everything associated with him. All he had to do was sit inside his father's wardrobe and put his faith to test.
Sam did the usual but the situation had turned against him. All his father's clothes were missing from the wardrobe. He decided to sit inside anyway.
"Sambar dear! Where are you?" She sang in a haunting voice.
Sam had to resent from responding. One word and he would be done for. Countless thoughts began to rise in his mind.
The air around seemed to strangle him and the smell of his father's clothes made him feel nauseous. The compact and dark space almost seemed like a living coffin.
Sam could see the lady dressed in white through the holes in the wardrobe. She was dancing around the room, almost like a grim reaper. Her constant mumbling was the only noise in that room.
It was something very mundane. Yet, there was something that caught Sam's eye, which was very terrifying. A butcher's knife had replaced the ladle.
Sam picked up his phone and sent a message, 'Help' to Spence.
The only thing he remembered before passing out was the sound of someone breaking the door. It was Spence. He was his saviour that day.
The next day, when he gained consciousness, he was inside the boat, with Spence and others.
"What are we doing here?" Sam asked, glancing at Spence.
"I don't know. More than that, why are we here?" Spence muttered to himself.
Sam could see the changes on Spence's face. His thick, black tuft of hair was matted and coiled. It seemed as if he had not washed them in a while.
He usually had a fair face but today it seemed as if he had smeared soot on it. Even his perfect jawline which made him the centre of attention had sagged down.
His eyes were the only thing that had not changed were his eyes, pitch black, ones which can stare at your soul.
"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Sam questioned, scrutinizing the once 'Real Playboy' of the school.
"Everything. I had to first save my friend from his mother, had to carry him around, arrange his documents and bring him here, all by myself." He ranted.
"Hey! That's not my problem." Sam rebuked.
"My dear friend. I never said it was your problem. It's that I am tired."
"Then, you can sleep," Sam consoled and pulled Spence on his shoulder.
Sam looked around himself. There were many people around them, but they all seemed like familiar ones. They were people who could understand them and resonate with their thoughts.
He moved around a bit to check a person lying next to him. He was wearing a black hoodie and a pair of giant headphones were peeking out of his bag, which he wore on his shoulder.
Sam tried to put it back in by pushing it inside but he ended up ripping a part of the stranger's hoodie.
Sam was astonished at what he saw. The stranger's neck was full of bruises. There was a cut near his collar bone which seemed fresh. Sam had never seen a bruise so brutal.
it had black powder smeared around the corners. Sam could not resist his temptation to touch it. Sam rubbed his saline fingers over the wound, causing the stranger to yell in pain.
Spence jolted at the sound and glanced over to check if everything is okay. He saw his friend was rubbing his fingers over a stranger's wound.
"What the hell are you doing?!" He pulled Sam back.
"I...I was treating his wound."
"Do you know your hands have a large amount of salt on them?"
"Yeah. Mom always told salt can treat your wounds. She used to say this whenever father used to apply it on her wounds. It is painful but effective."
Spence could do nothing but stare at his friend in amazement.
Spence moved over to the stranger and looked at him. His face was twisting in pain and he was in need of immediate medication. He opened up his bags and searched through his belongings.
There was a packet of tissue paper and a bottle of water that he could use as first-aid. Spence wet the tissue paper and wiped the stranger's wound with it.
The expression on the face was changing.
There was a sudden announcement from upstairs:
"We have reached our destination."