Long Way Back to the Barn: Chapter 1 Rewrite
When she said she didnât want to go after Brooklyn, she expected backlash. She and Kenji had already discussed the reactions of the other three members and knew they wouldnât agree. Kenji already suffered so much with his family, he was rightfully done. Sammy was⊠just so tired. Tired of being scared and hungry. She had just gotten to a point where the world wasnât mind-numbing, only to get thrown back into danger. All because Brooklyn wanted to be a hero for some lab experiments. Lab experiments that changed their life to the point they wonât ever be normal.Â
She wanted to go home. She missed her farm, she missed her cow. She didnât even know if Bessie and her calf were okay. Sheâd luckily thought ahead and trained Bessie to get out of the barn and get food and water in case she wasnât there. She had left so fast that she couldnât tell if the raptors got to them. She needed to go home.
But of course, of course, things couldnât be nice.
Sammy hated the coverlet under her. It felt too thin and light, and it felt like it was made out of fake material. The pillow she clutched was even worse, gummy and flat. She didnât know how anyone slept with a bed like this. The room was both too cold and too hot. Anywhere near the walls radiated off the snow and ice from the outside, while the middle of the room was somehow stuffy and humid. At least in Texas, itâs either hot or cold, stormy or clear. She hated Italy, hated that she was forced to be there because of the most stupid circumstances.Â
Brooklyn wanted to play hero or vigilante to some madmanâs creations, deciding that all other life is forfeit. Did it not matter that her friends, family were being hunted for her actions? Was her mission just so important that them nearly dying to the creatures she was out trying to save didnât matter? She knew who mattered. Darius, the sweet boy who grew to be an even sweeter man, mattered. Ben, who went from a germaphobe to a wild child, mattered. Kenji, the egotistical kid who truthfully was so caring and kind, mattered. Yaz, the girl who turned into a social butterfly, the girl she loved, mattered. She didnât understand how that was so hard for Brooklyn to see, she didnât know why it was so hard for Yaz to comprehend.
Now, sheâs in a mixed temperature room, on an uncomfortable bed, far from home, arguing with her girlfriend because apparently she was acting out of character.
âI feel like you ignored me when I asked you to hand over the phone.â
Sammy knew what she was doing. Using that stupid therapist talk like she used when Sammy got upset about the thumbs up emoji or whenever they had a problem. Sammy wondered if Yaz thought she was doing good at communicating right now.
Sammy took a breath to calm her thumping heart. She knew where this would lead, no matter how much she tried to stop it.Â
Therapist talk it is. âI hear you, but I feel like you should be mad at Brooklyn, not me.â Sammy clutched the pillow tighter to her chest, hoping the shakiness in her voice wasnât noticeable.
âWhy you soundinâ like that? Speak up.â
Sammy shuddered, âRight, but I feel like if you-â Stop. â-moved more quickly, I could have gotten to her.â
âOk, well, it doesnât matter anymore. Brooklyn chose, alright?â Her eyes were burning a hole in the floor at this point. This didnât matter. None of this mattered. She was tired, exhausted. She hasnât been able to sleep, sheâs gone hungry far too many nights, and sheâs off her pills. All she wanted was her cow. God, if something happened to Bessie, Sammy wouldnât survi-
Yaz broke Sammyâs spiralling thoughts, âWha- of course it matters,â she felt the bed shift behind her as Yaz shifted, âSammy, babe, I think this runs deeper than just Brooklyn.â
Is she trying to insinuate something? Sammy felt her temper flare for the briefest of moments. No. Yaz wouldnât bring that up. She knew how she felt about that. Sure, maybe she didnât give her girlfriend the full story, but she had told her enough to get the point across. Yaz wouldnât, especially not in an argument. Right?
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âThen youâre not being honest with yourself.â
Sammy finally turned to her girlfriend, allowing the pillow she had previously clutched to fall to her lap. Yaz looked frustrated, exasperated even. How would she know if her was being honest when she hadnât been around for over a year? How dare she assume anything about her after over a year.
Sammy needed to leave. To breathe air that wasnât stifled, to exist in a space without being judged. She was tired of being judged. She hadnât done anything wrong.
Sammy shuddered as she tried to push the voice back to the depths of her mind. She didnât need this right now. It wasnât important. It didnât matter. She was past it. She had to be.
Yaz's brows furrowed as she saw Sammyâs face, âYou were so much happier around the Mballos than I've seen you be in a long time. I think that's because they were such a tight family.âÂ
âWhat does that have to do with anythinâ?â Sammy was getting anxious, she felt it. Her heart was racing, her breath was short, and her hands shook. She didnât want to talk about family. She didnât want to talk about him.Â
She prayed, begged, that Yaz wouldnât bring them up. Yaz knew her, she had to. Had it been so long? Did Yaz forget, or simply didnât care? She wouldnât be surprised if no one cared. Her âfatherâ didnât-
âBabe, you're still mad at your family for how they treated you.âÂ
The flood of emotions that rushed through Sammy almost gave her whiplash. She turned away from the other woman, trying to conceal her growing anger and tears. She forced herself not to shake. Why is she surprised Yaz wasnât listening? Why did she expect anyone to?
âAnd I agree. They should have listened to you about how they run their business. But what I never understood was that you cut them out of your life completely!â
â-cut them out of your life-â
He was five at the time. He was in excruciating pain after a cow had bitten his finger. Blood dripped onto the floor as he clutched his hand. âDaddy-â He cried as he came out of the barn, tears running down his face. âDaddy!â His Daddy was nowhere to be seen. He walked ten minutes back to his house, blood sliding down his arm by the time he reached the steps. His Abuela had rushed to his aid as she saw his trembling, bloodied state, snapping at her son for leaving her grandson alone. Turns out, his Daddy had come back home without him, all because his younger sister was throwing a tantrum.
She could feel herself struggling to breathe. She wrapped her arms around herself in some effort to make it stop.
He was ten. He was sitting in the front office of his school after a fight. His nose was bleeding, and his lip was sore. The office attendant called home, and his Momma answered. He heard yelling over the phone as the poor little lady at the front desk tried to calm his Momma down. After about five minutes, the office attendant put the phone down and looked at him with sympathy. âIâm sorry, sweetie. Your momâs not coming.â He had simply nodded and asked for some tissues for his nose. When he was picked up late after school, his Momma yelled at him for waking his sister up when she was sick, all because he got into a fight. He hadnât told her that the other boys were talking about her.
She felt sick. It wasnât fair. Why her? Why did it have to be her?
She was fourteen. She had just stepped onto the dock when she was pulled into a tight hug. She realized suddenly that her Daddy had thrown himself at her, holding her as if he feared sheâd disappear. She couldnât help but cry. Her Daddy was here now. She was gonna be fine as long as he took care of her, she was sure. It was only later that she realized that was the first time he ever hugged her.
âSammy? Sammy, look at me.â
She couldnât breathe. The room was blurry, too bright, and too dark all at once. Her clothes felt like they burned. She put her face in her hands, gasping for air. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home.
She shrank from the hand that tried to touch her shoulder. âHey. Hey, itâs okay. Breathe. Itâs okay, Sammy.â Yazâs hand hovered from her shoulder to her knee as she crouched in front of her. She gently tried to take her hands away from her face, but she refused. Sammy pulled away from her, still crying. âSammy. Look at me. Please,â Yaz begged softly. She didnât want to. She didnât want to see the false care, the stifling pity, the lackluster concern. She just had to breathe, then sheâd be fine. Itâll pass like all the other times.
She tensed as she felt a hand on her leg. âSam, I need you to slow down. In and out. Donât worry about anything else, just in and out.âÂ
Despite her earlier refusal, the weight on her leg helped. She didnât know how long it took, but she focused on the slight thumb movements on her thigh, and eventually, the heaviness on her chest began to lift. When it felt like she could breathe without gasping, she wiped her eyes. She hated it when this happened. She always felt so exposed and vulnerable.Â
The hand on her thigh lifted as Yaz, ever so gently, moved her hands to cradle her face. Her girlfriend softly wiped the tears on her cheeks and gave her a small, worried smile.
So simple, so soft. It nearly made Sammy cry more. Sheâs wanted this for so long, needed it, missed it.Â
Yaz ran her thumb over her cheek with one hand while the other held her chin. âIâm sorry, I shouldnât have brought it up. I understand that it probably-â
âNo, you donât! You donât! No you- you werenât here! Havenât been here! You canât- donât sit here and try and say you do!â
Sammyâs outburst startled Yaz. Sheâd seen Sammy in bad times, hell, an island of dinosaurs, but sheâd never reacted like this. She had seen her angry, sad, scared, all sorts of emotions, but this was different.Â
Yaz let out a breath as Sammy hiccupped and tried to swallow down her sobs. Sheâs never had to comfort her like this. She canât help but feel a mix of guilt and helplessness. She should know what to do during something like this.Â
âSammy, listen, I get it. Iâm sorry for the Brooklyn thing. You have every rig-â
âThis ainât about Brooklyn! This is about me and you! Not Brooklyn, or Ben, or Darius, or Kenji, or those stupid fuckinâ dinosaurs! Me and you!â
Yaz had to stumble back as Sammy abruptly stood and started pacing. She hugged herself as she went on a rant that didnât even fully seem like she was talking to Yaz anymore.
She didn't know how to respond. Sheâs never dealt with Sammy, with anyone, like this. Sheâd gone to therapy, sure, but she wasnât one for emotional outburst often. She wasnât taught how to handle them. Yaz stopped for a moment, realizing suddenly that maybe she needed to stop listening to her mindâs therapist for a moment. Sammy wasnât her. Of course she wouldnât respond the same way she did. As Sammy paced, Yaz quickly thought of things that always comforted her girlfriend. Touch, reassurance, trust. She understood now. Sammy didnât trust her. How could she? She hadnât been around and present in so long, could she expect different?
Yaz refocused as Sammy seemingly grew more frantic, â-And those stupid emojis you always use! Y- you know I hate them and you-âÂ
Yaz grabbed her by the elbows and forced her to stay still. âOk. Iâm gonna listen to you, ok? But I need you to just take a minute and breathe. After that, you can yell at me all you need to, just take a moment.â Sammy stared at her for a bit before shakily nodding. She, which Yaz assumed was subconsciously, leaned towards her. The shorter woman pulled her closer by her elbows, allowing her girlfriend to hiccup into her shoulder. She raised her hand to stroke the back of her head as Sammy continued to hug herself.
Yaz kissed her girlfriendâs temple before she spoke, âI am sorry. For not being around. For getting distant. I swear, it wasnât you.â
âI know, I know but- you were only trying to help and- well you couldnât fix it if I didnât tell you. Thatâs on me, ok?â She mumbled into Sammyâs hair, smelling Giaâs shampoo she let them use. She didnât hate it, but it definitely wasnât Sammyâs scent.Â
âListen, how- how about we go for a walk? Talk?â
Sammy simply nodded in response.
..........................................
Sorry this took so long, for some reason I've been struggling to create even though I have the passion.
Just some context: When Sammy refers to her pills, she's referring to antidepressants. In this au (?), Sammy was diagnosed with depression, specifically agitated depression, which causes restlessness (Her need to always be doing something), temperamental outbursts (She has, though later in the series, but signs of sudden irritation do show), and other smaller things such as fidgeting. Being off her pills (All symptoms mentioned in this chapter) would cause insomnia, anxiety, sensory disturbances, mood changes, and hunger/loss of appetite. Some of these are caused by other issues, such as insomnia coming from her fear of something going wrong and her hunger from not having any vegetarian food options.
In conclusion, Sammy's going through it, needs therapy, and hopefully, Yaz gets her some.
Tell me how you guys feel about it in the comments :)