Emily screamed.

And when she screamed, Sam fell apart.

And when Sam fell apart, his control did too.

And when his control fell apart, he hurt her.

And when he hurt her, his world fell apart.

And when his world fell apart, he could not breathe.

And when he could not breathe, he died... at least on the inside.

He could only hear her screams, like hot lava spilling over his body and burning... burning him so bad, it hurt all over... he could feel her hurt, and her hurt was his hurt... and it was terrible, so terrible he felt like dying on the outside, too... he wanted to, so bad, so very bad...

Rough hands pushed and shoved him into the woods, away from his dying imprint. Away from his shattering world. "Humans are coming," the voice whispered. Sam didn't know or care who the voice belonged to. It didn't matter, anyway. Not anymore.

His chest gave a sharp heave as he felt Emily fading... fading fast. He would be over, over and done with, he knew, if she faded away completely.

But then he heard the sirens, they broke through, somewhere in his subconscious, they broke through.

A little part of him whimpered, daring to hope that the people would be able to save their lives. "Please," he groaned, and the hands started to massage his neck roughly, nervously.

He could feel her fading more, and soon, he was submitting to the darkness that was overcoming his imprint so very badly.

When he succumbed to the darkness, he hoped he would not return.


The beeps and noises of the hospital were unheard by Sam as he loomed over Emily's bedside with a miserable, heartbreaking expression.

He hated himself. He hated would he'd done. Why couldn't he leave it alone? Why couldn't he have left her alone? She had been better without him... and now, now she was scarred for her life.

"By a monster," he whimpered to himself.

He had not meant to wake her, but her beautiful brown eyes flew open before he could move. He stared at her, and she him. Neither moved a muscle for a very long while.

Finally, Emily started to lift a trembling hand before Sam lurched forward and pressed it down. He did not want her to strain himself. She looked at him blankly a moment longer and took in the way he was looking at her.

And then she did something that would shock Sam for years to come.

She lifted her hand again and pressed it to his cheek, and she started to comfort him.

His very core seemed to harden at this, and his body did too. He did not deserve her. He did not deserve her understanding, not at all...

But she seemed to, miraculously, want him. Or at least a little.

So he took his anger, and his love, and all the rest of the emotions he could identify, and he piled them into a cauldron.

He piled it so high that he was afraid it would overflow, one day, explode again.

And then he met eyes with Emily again, and he knew that he would not let it. He would not let any emotion control him, not again.

For her, he would not let the cauldron overflow.