A/N: Okay, First things first. Before you read the second chapter, I recommend that you re-read this chapter again because I made some changes. Sorry about not making things clear enough. This chapter is revised, it is now written in third person point of view. And I've decided to make it into a multi-chapter, instead of a one-shot.
Sam slid down the floor. Her strength had left her. Her emotions had long abandoned her. She didn't feel anything. She couldn't feel anything. It was too much. Everything was too much.
She turned to her left and saw him leaning against the wall for support, she bet he was experiencing the same thing. He was motionless. Frozen on where he was. Like he couldn't accept that this had actually happened.
Sam should be crying or thrashing but she wasn't. She was shocked. Just never ending shock.
"Ms. Manson, she's dead." The doctor repeated. "I'm sorry." He repeated that too and sighed. He looked sad.
Sam couldn't breathe. She didn't want to breathe. Not anymore. She couldn't go on. She just couldn't. Her life ended. It ended when she died. She was Sam's life and now she was gone. She was the only reason why Sam chose to move forward and now that she was gone, Sam couldn't do this anymore.
She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She closed it and swallowed. Her tongue felt thick, too big for her mouth. She tried to say something. Anything. She had to say it. She had to get away. From here. Anywhere but here.
"I-it's… it's o-okay." She tried to sound firm but she couldn't. Her throat was dry and rough. She swallowed and tried again. "It's fine. I, uh, I need to go."
That got them moving. From the corner of her eye, she saw him slowly slipped out of the room. The doctor and the nurses had done what they had to do. They did their best. But she was gone and Sam was here. So she had to go away too.
They proceeded in making sure Sam was really okay, clinically okay. They asked questions, she answered. She signed papers. She paid what needed to be paid but the administrative personnel told her everything was already paid. She was too confused and still too shocked to absorb much of it that she let it go and didn't ask any question.
Sam trudged out of the hospital and limped her way home. She was too desperate and too preoccupied to actually be able to walk. But she managed to get home.
Home. It was a generous word to call her apartment. A studio-sized space with one bedroom, one tiny bathroom, living and dining hybrid well, space. Put three people in and it would feel crowded, not to mention very claustrophobic.
Sam locked the door behind her and threw her things on the one, semi-soft couch she had. She kicked her shoes off and ran to her room. Sam dove to her bed and cried.
She sobbed and wept until her eyes felt like peeling off her face and the water in her body wasn't enough to make tears. She sobbed as the reality of it all finally sank in.
Sam sobbed until it all came down to two things.
She just lost her twelve-week old baby. And
She wanted to die.
And then she finally fell asleep.
A/N: The idea is that Sam was pregnant and Danny was the cause of her sudden miscarriage. I'm not sure but the rating of this story might go up.
Thank you for reading and please review.
~Too Enigmatic