New Moon: Sam and Emily's Story

She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Long, raven-colored hair, red-brown skin that almost glowed in the light, brown eyes that sparkled with radiance in the sun. He wanted her badly, almost too badly.

He'd talked to her before, after all, in La Push, everyone knew everyone. That's probably what made it such a great place to live. A Quileute reservation, right beside the sea, with plenty of places to play sports, hike, or just hang out. It was really a beautiful place, a little piece of paradise, safe from any danger.

But Sam's paradise seemed to be less perfect as he realized how much he loved her, this beautiful girl, vibrant with an overwhelming good nature and a smile that could shame the gods. He yearned to be with her, and until she was his, this paradise seemed like just another place.

Emily.

He spent most of his time at the restaurant where she worked, wanting to be around her every hour of the day. He was surprised how quickly they fell in love with each other, how quickly they planned out their lives together under the trees, her eyes somehow even more beautiful in the moonlight. They had everything settled: they'd date a few more months, then announce their engagement to their families. That way it wouldn't come as quite a shock.

It took them 2 weeks to know that they wanted to marry each other, something it took a lifetime for other people to decide. He lived for Emily, he breathed for her, and after their third day of being an item he'd become completely unable to picture a life without her in it. He made her laugh, and she made him happy, and people never caught them apart.

Then he got sick.

He started out thinking it was the stomach flu. That's what it felt like: fever, weak stomach, soreness. Emily didn't leave his side the first week. She told her family where she was and they were angry, but it didn't phase her. She held his hand, leaving only to bring him water and painkillers, and sometimes saltines when his stomach was up for it. She was like a guardian angel, which didn't seem like much of a stretch for her, since she had such a delicate, nurturing nature.

Which made it all too much harder when Sam's father made her leave one day while Sam was asleep.

"You can't be here anymore." His father had told her bleakly, his eyes stony with seriousness. "You're no longer welcome in this house."

She'd left, thinking Sam wanted it that way, which he hadn't. He'd been in such a deep sleep he hadn't realized what had happened until he awoke three days later. He'd been furious at his father, and his mother for being such a doormat about the situation.

"If anything's going to make me better it's her!" he'd screamed shakily, forgetting his illness. He watched his father's eyes go wide, his jaw drop.

"Please Samuel, you have to calm down." he'd said, his old voice weak with panic.

"I can't calm down, Father! Don't you see? I love her! I love her more than life itself! And you send her away!"

"It's for the best Samuel! Please, calm yourself!"

A shiver of anger ripped through his spine as Emily ran into the house.

"I understand now, Sam! I know what's happening to you! You're--"

"Get out, Emily! I told you never to set foot in this house again!" yelled Sam's father, jumping up in such a way it made everyone stare for a moment and trying to push the beautiful girl out the door from whence she came as she looked at Sam, her angelic eyes wide with fear. That was the last straw for him, his breaking point.

With one more quake, there was a gruesome ripping sound, so loud it made his ears hurt (had they grown more acute? It seemed that way.). He grew huge, even bigger than his already freakish 6'7 height, his arms growing longer. A snout sprung from his face, feeling as though he had been shot, and his spine rounded him into a hunched position with a sickening crack.

He threw his head back and let out a blood-curdling howl, then lunged toward his father.

That was the last thing he remembered.

He woke up in a hospital, strapped to every machine known to man, as well as strapped by the wrists and ankles to the bed. He pulled out of the restraints easily, his newfound strength aiding him as he sat up to free himself, pulling the electrodes from his chest, the IV from the back of his hand and the breathing tube from his mouth. He bolted for the door, not in any pain whatsoever, as his heart monitor flat-lined. The noise made his ears feel like they were going to burst, and he was intercepted by doctors, security and nurses. He mowed them all down easily, running for reception.

"Is my family here? Is Emily? Where are they?" his voice was gruff, bellowing. He didn't recognize it as his own. His heart ached as he prayed she was just sitting in the waiting room, completely unharmed.

"Yes, they're here." said the frightened nurse in a small voice. She pointed down the hall to an open door. "She's in there. Room 242."

Sam knew the nurse meant Emily, and he bolted for the doorway, stopping short when he saw her.

She looked completely unharmed, her face turned toward the window as if to let it's light make her even more radiant than she already was. She's not dead, she's not dead. Thank God she's not dead. He thought as his memories began to piece together. He'd gotten so angry, so furious… then he'd changed… into what, he didn't know… but that was all. The rest was black.

Emily was probably just admitted because she was in shock. He thought. I can't blame her. I'm a monster.

There was a chair on the other side of the bed, and he made his way to it.

When he saw her other side, all he could do was let out a wail of pure agony.

She was mangled by claw marks. Her beautiful face was distorted with huge scratches, part of her eye pulled down, the corner of her mouth molded into a permanent grimace. Her right arm was bandaged, but the shape and length of the bloodstains made it obvious that there were more claw marks there.

"NO!" Sam sobbed, collapsing to the floor beside her bed as his heart ripped in half. "What have I done, what have I done?!"

The nurse from reception closed the door so that he wouldn't be caught by security, while he wailed loud enough to wake the dead. He'd destroyed the one thing he loved, the one thing he cared about. He wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to see him again. His guilt soon overwhelmed him to the point that he couldn't even think, to the point that all he could do was let his pain release itself in the tears pouring down his cheeks and the sobs that just kept coming, his hands pressed to his face, his spine bent into a shape much like the one it had when he'd transformed. He'd become a different creature entirely, and he knew he'd lost everyone he cared about forever.

Suddenly he felt a cool hand on his burning back, and he looked up to see Emily, sitting on her knees on the floor beside him. He instantly grew completely silent, tears still rushing down his cheeks as her ruined hand trailed up his neck and to his moistened face.

"Don't be sad, my darling. You didn't mean to. I know you didn't mean to." The sound of her voice sent him back into hysterics, and he fell into her, careful to rest his head only on her left side as her arms closed around him. He sobbed loud, broken sobs until his eyes ran completely dry, and she stayed with him the entire time, stroking his hot back with her cool fingertips. After that he just stayed there, his head pressed to her soft, cool shoulder, his hand gripping the back of her soft cotton hospital gown.

"I'll love you forever." She soothed, her voice soft, like a breeze through a field of wildflowers. "I told you that before and I plan on keeping my word. You didn't know, my darling. This is not your fault." Her words sounded like a melody to his overly acute ears.

"But Emily." his voice was weak, his throat barely able to rasp out the words. Her name hurt him to say, and he felt the ache in his heart throb bitterly. "I nearly… I nearly killed you. I could have killed you. I'm a monster."

"No." She put her hands on either side of his face, making him look at hers, one side a work of art, the other destroyed by his very own hands. "No, Sam. You are not a monster. You're the man I love. The man I still intend to marry. I promised you, no matter what, my darling, No matter what. And I'm keeping my vow."

He pressed his forehead to her good cheek, a soft, almost silent wail escaping his throat.

"I love you Sam. I do."

"But I--"

"Don't speak, my darling. Just rest." She didn't seem to wonder what he was, why his skin was so blazing hot. She must've already known, and that was why she'd come over in the first place. She'd known what he was. She'd known he was a monster, capable of killing her without a hint of effort, and she'd still come.

His heart was broken, but thankful at the same time. What did he do to deserve someone as wonderful, as forgiving… as absolutely perfect as her? Absolutely nothing. But he still had her.

He felt her soft lips press against his cheek, and the pain in his heart slowly subsided as she kissed his forehead, his other cheek, then the tip of his nose, her hands still placed gently on either side of his face. He kept his eyes closed, and she picked up his left hand, holding it out in front of her, kissing each one of his fingertips, then the center of his palm. Then she brought her lips to his, and the gesture assured him that she would never leave him, ever. He believed every word of what she had said, down to the last letter. He knew his guilt for hurting her would never subside, but he was comforted by the assurance that their love would be everlasting.