"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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WITH MUCH REASSURANCE, Martha finally got Sam to come to the hospital. He needed to see Emily even though it may be painful. It would give him some closure in Martha's opinion. And then, he could take Martha home, where she felt most comfortable. She couldn't get any rest in the hospital when the nurses came in and out.
Sam stood before Emily's hospital room. She had been out of surgery for about three hours now. Maybe she was conscious, maybe not. But Sam was going to come face to, scarred, face to what he'd done.
Knocking lightly, he entered the sterile emviorment to luckily find her alone. What he saw made him suck in a sharp breath.
Emily was bandaged all over. Half of her face had a gauze wrapped around it. She looked so impossibly still – stiff from pain. It made him hyperventilate for the first time since he first shifted. Sam dared to take a step forward and Emily groaned as if she knew he was there. He stopped short.
For once, Sam wasn't calm, cool and collected. He was panicked. The Quileute couldn't wrap his head around this situation, he had the ability to do that – shred someone's body like it was nothing.
Then, he thought of Martha... and a strangled sob burst abruptly from his pinched lips. He covered his mouth with his fist, unable to go any further. Sam backed out of the room without even talking to Emily. He just couldn't do it, not now, when things were still so fresh. When the pain was evident in the scrunching of Emily's face on her left side.
He went back to his truck after that. Sat in the driver's seat to yell out his frustrations. His hands tightened around the stirring wheel, causing the metal to groan underneath his palm.
To say he was shedding a few tears would be a fraction of the truth he would never tell. Martha's wide eyed and bloodied body flashed before his eyes over and over and over again. It was getting repeatedly slapped in the face or lashed with a whip.
He felt the pain his claws inflicted but ten times worse. It tore at his heart and engrained itself in his brain. Sam didn't think he'd ever get passed this, get over it. Why, Martha still wanted him to be around her – pick her up today, baffled him. If he were Martha, he wouldn't blame her for being disgusted by him.
However, it was a good thing she wasn't anything like Sam in this moment. Because she needed him. Martha needed Sam as much as she needed air to breathe... And she wasn't going to let him get away that easily.
