Shadows

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As the shadows inch closer, the taunting memories of my past do too. I try to fight off the oncoming horror, but I can't.

"I don't love you Samantha." Says Ryan.
"I hate you." Says Castle.
Each person that I love and care about takes turns telling me they couldn't care less about me.
By the time they are done, I am reduced to nothing. I can't even cry.
I'm so numb, and I don't want to feel anymore.
I pull out Ryan's gun and hold it to my head.
"Go ahead. Kill yourself." Says Alexis. "We don't care."
And with that I pull the trigger.

I wake with a start, panting from my nightmare.
My movement wakes up Ryan, who sits up with a grunt. He looks at me, still adjusting to the light.
"You still had a bad dream? Even though I was here?"
I nod slowly.
He takes me in his arms.
"What was this one about?"
I think back to my nightmare, and it is almost too painful to talk about.
"You said you didn't love me."
His grasp around me tightens.
"I will always love you."
I sigh in relief. "I know."

We spend the day at the precinct without any action. I attempted to work on my dads case, but Ryan caught me and took away the file.

Back at Ryan's apartment, he starts making dinner.
"Can I help?" I ask. There is a faint smile etched onto his lips.
"Ok. Do you know how to cook?"
I laugh. "Do I know how to cook? Is the pope Catholic?"
He smiles. "Ok so what do you want to make?"
I think for a moment.
"How about I surprise you? I know where everything is, I can make it by myself."
"Are you sure you can handle that?"
"Come on. I'm Samantha Ross. I can handle anything."
Ok not true but he gets the point.
As soon as he leaves the kitchen, I get to work. I pull out everything I need. I plan on making salad, spaghetti and meatballs, and Italian donuts.
My mom was Mexican, and my dad was Italian, so we always ate a lot and served a lot.
I like to embrace my Italian side, so a lot of what I cook is Italian. I also speak the language, but not very many people back in Sacramento spoke Italian so I have gotten a little rusty.

After a little more than two hours of cooking, I call Ryan out of his room. Everything is perfect, down to the last detail. I set the table with the only tablecloth I could find.
He sits down and I serve him.
He looks around at everything I have done.
"I can't believe you did all this. Thank you so much Ross."
I smile, and can feel my cheeks turning red.
He digs in, and stops, looking at me.
"This is amazing!"
His forks digs furiously into the food I have prepared. My hand is more timid than his, but I know I have to eat.
After we finish the main course, I bring out the donuts. I eat one to keep Ryan happy, and let him have the rest.
After he finishes, he sits back in his chair, satisfied.
"That was the best meal I've had in a long time. Thank you."
I smile, and stand up to put the dishes away. I finish loading it, and Ryan says, "we can finish tomorrow. Let's go to bed."
It hits me that I'm tired.
Wordlessy, I make my way to my room and change. When I'm done Ryan walks in.
"Do you want me to stay?"
"Please?"
He gets in next to me, and within minutes, I am gone.

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