"Secrets can only lie in the dark for so long..."
Martha Dévolla had always been a fiery, uncontrollable, ambitious girl since she was young. When her teachers told her to sit still, she leaped about. If the rain poured heavily on her picnic plan...
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THE RUMBLE OF the storm was perfect imagery to what Martha was feeling on the inside. When she came home, she cried and threw things till her raging emotions were sated. After of which, she was weary and back peddaling to all the things he said. Sam's reactions.
His face contorted with an agony she'd never seen on a man before. Which was a strange thing to wish to see. However, all her life, the men in Martha's life wore a front. They represented unwavering strength and durability. It came with the sterotypical definition of a man's man. But seeing Samuel with watery eyes and hunched shoulders in her rearview mirror was fascinating for her.
She didn't enjoy seeing it, just intrigued that finally, men had very real emotions. And his sexual idenity didn't need to be questioned in order for him to feel something real, either.
Right now, her thoughts were chaotic... much like the storm outside.
Her electricity flickered on and off in a concerning manner. She sat on the lumpy couch in the living room and munched on some eggs and rice she cooked up. The familiar spices reminded her of her grandfather, which reminded her that she needed to go see him and soon. He needed to know she was back home and pregnant with Sam Uley's kid as well. Abuelo was going to be a great grandfather.
Martha felt pathetic. Sitting on the couch as she stuffed her face, she couldn't help but feel immense guilt too, for all of this. Though, in her eyes it was Sam's fault for letting things get this far, it still hurt her to yell at him like that.
A groan left her lips as she shoved another spoonful into her mouth. If only her overthinking mind would shut up for a second. But no, it brought up how good Sam looked in his white tank top and how much older Seth looked sitting at the dining table. The ring that was Leah's finger... If Sam and Leah were on opposing sides right now, why was she still wearing it?
With perfect timing, her head started to hurt. "Ugh, great," She groaned, massaging her temples.
The sudden ringing on her cell drew her attention to her lap. She glared at Sam's caller identification on the screen and let it buzz until it went to voicemail. When it stopped, she sighed, lifting the fork to her lips bitterly. All was calm –
Until he called again.
It vibrated on her lap and she started chewing aggressively, placing the device on the coffee table. However, that only made the sound of it ringing, louder. The device rattling on the wood. Her body sunk further down the couch till her head rested against the arm of it. Martha's newest form of entertainment? Counting how many times he called her only to be ignored.
