Hi! So, here I am with the second chapter! I hope you all enjoyed the last one, and I am sorry if I left it on a bit of a cliffy...I also do apologize that this chapter jumps around a bit, but I hope you can keep up with it all. :)
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, except the plot and any OCs I choose to bring in. ENJOY! XD
"Sam was a a good husband, a good father, and above all, a good man. His lighthearted yet determined attitude was a blessing to all who knew him, and his kindness reached further than he knew. He cared for everyone, and everything, and held life as something sacred," the woman paused, biting her lip and holding back her tears. Her greying blonde hair was pulled in a bun, but strands fell to her face. Her face was well worn, as though it spent most of it's time smiling, but her cloudy grey eyes suggested otherwise. Taking a deep breath, Ademia continued.
"When we first met, I was in my first year of college, and he was in his last. Being the person he was, he immediately saw that I was completely overwhelmed, so he helped me, and we became fast friends, and then much more as time went on.
"I will miss him always, as he was my husband, and I shall always love him. Though it breaks my heart to do so, I must farewell the one with whom I have shared many long years, and long nights. He has been taken from me, but I will not mourn for his loss, for it is merely a temporary separation. Sam was always a religious man, as am I, and we truly believe that one day we will see each other again, but in a better place." Taking yet another shaky breath, the woman gave a sad smile. "I would now like to ask a young woman who is like a daughter to both Sam and I, Isabelle Vaughn, to come and speak."
Isabelle stood from where she sat and made her way up to the front of the old church, feeling the eyes of her friends and family on her. When she reached the stage, she gave Ademia a big hug, holding her for longer than usual, before releasing her and walking in front of all the people. She waited until her friend had sat down, before she began to speak. "Uh, hi. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Isabelle, and I worked with Sam. We were best friends, and, well, I guess it's kind of strange considering I am a young woman and he was much older, but I guess to me he was always a mix of a protective big brother and a crazy uncle.
"I have had to write, prepare and perform many speeches before in my life, but, well, I never thought I would have to do one without Sam there to help me get ideas. He would help me with anything, and I always knew I could depend on him. I don't think I can honestly say that I know what I am saying or doing up here, but I just know that I have to do this.
"Samson Walters and I first met when I began training at the bank we work at. At first everything was hard and overwhelming for me, even though I had spent much of my life waiting to be able to start working there. I didn't know how things worked, or what to do, and I guess since my parents both worked there it was expected that I would know everything. Sam, he, well, he saw that it was hard for me, and, much like helped Mia when she started college, he helped me. He taught me what was what, and how things worked, and explained everything to me. But, more than that, he taught me all these things but still managed to treat as an equal, not a child. The age difference didn't matter, we were friends, and then best friends.
"He made sure I met his wife and kids, and I loved them all the moment I met them. I remember thinking that Mia was just how Sam had said she was, and the kids were just as sweet and smart. He gave me more family, and I love them all so much." She looked up and met the eyes of Ademia, who sat with her two children in the front row. The shared a meaningful look, before Isabelle went back to her speech.
"For me, Sam meant so much. I never imagined that there would be a time when he wouldn't be there to hold my hand, to help me cry, to give me inspiration and ideas. He protected me, but at the same time he taught me how to protect myself. I am, and always will be, indebted to him for everything he did for me and so many others. I guess this is the part where I say that I will never forget him, but I couldn't if I tried. He is just as much a part of me as anything, and there will never be a moment when I forget him."
Tears finally flowed down her cheeks, and she stepped back and off the stage as the band began to play a few of Sam's favorite songs, that he had actually specifically requested be played at his funeral.
Walking over to where he parents were now standing, she embraced them each gently, before standing at her seat. The whole group of people gathered sang and swayed to the song, eyes closed, remembering Samson as they sang.
Three little birds, sat on my window.
And they told me I don't need to worry.
Summer came like cinnamon
So sweet,
Little girls double-dutch on the concrete.
Maybe sometimes, we've got it wrong, but it's alright
The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same
Oh, don't you hesitate.
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.
You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.
Blue as the sky, sunburnt and lonely,
Sipping tea in a bar by the roadside,
(just relax, just relax)
Don't you let those other boys fool you,
Got to love that afro hair do.
Maybe sometimes, we feel afraid, but it's alright
The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change.
Don't you think it's strange?
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.
You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.
'Twas more than I could take, pity for pity's sake
Some nights kept me awake, I thought that I was stronger
When you gonna realise, that you don't even have to try any longer?
Do what you want to.
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.
Oh, you're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow
Though it was intended to be a happy song, Isabelle couldn't contain the sobs that racked her frame as she remembered all the joking arguments she and Sam had used to have about the song, and how it was a girly song, yet he loved it so much. She would often tease him, and he would just shake his head at her, smiling annoyingly.
The song ended, and others such as 'Walking On Sunshine' and 'MmmBop', and Isabelle knew that she would never be able to hear any of them again and not cry.
The night, Isabelle lay in bed, staring into the darkness as the tears flowed in and he sobs echoed in the silence.
Why did this happen? Isabelle didn't understand. Sam was a good man. He wasn't perfect, but he was closer than a lot of people. Of everyone around the world, he was the one that died.
How could I have let this happen? I could have saved him. If I had just gone faster, tried harder, then maybe Ethan and Maddy would still have a father...
Though she knew that self pity would achieve nothing, she couldn't help it. All she could think of was what happened that night...
Three nights previously...
Her heart stopped beating and he mouth opened, unable to scream. She watched as, in the blink of an eye, both men pulled guns out of their clothing at the same time, and, without any thought for the fact that they were surrounded by men with guns, they aimed and shot her partner.
Sam's mouth opened as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came out, and he fell to his knees, looking down at himself in disbelief. There, in his chest, was three bullets. He placed his hand against himself, trying to put pressure on the wounds, and the men saw that he was still breathing and aimed their guns to shoot again.
The guards were shocked, and some tried to react and stop the men, but it seemed that the men were the only ones with control over the situation, as the guards hardly seemed to know how to handle their own weapons.
Thankfully, Isabelle was able to think quickly. Ripping her gun from her bag, she dropped everything but her weapon from her hands and ran onto the street to get a clearer shot. And, with two pulls of her index finger, one of the men was dead and the other had a big hole in his shoulder. She then shot him once more in the leg, making sure he couldn't run away. Then, ignoring all the guards around her, she ran to Sam were he was on his knees on the ground.
"SAM! Oh, God, no..." her hands shook, and she put them on his chest, pushing onto the wounds, but then saw the still living man try to get his gun. In a bout of fury, she leaped up, crossing over to him in a few long strides. Before his fingers could even touch the fallen weapon, her foot slammed into his face as she leaped into the air. Next, she kicked the gun all the way to the other side of the street, and kneed the man in the head once more, and he slumped unconscious onto the ground.
Without even checking to see if was still alive or not, Isabelle ran to her partner, who was now lying down and gasping for air.
"Sam! Stay with me, okay. Come on, stay awake for me. You're going to be fine! SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE, NOW!" She heard the sound of people dialing, and talking desperately into their phones. It didn't seem to dawn on anyone that they were standing right outside a hospital. "Sam, please, say something to me!"
"You told me..." he trailed off and coughed violently, his body trembling, and blood sprayed from his mouth and onto Isabelle's face and dress but she ignored it. "Y-you t-told me you didn't wan-nt to wait-t in a h-hospital to s-see if I would m-make it..."
"It's okay, Sam. I'll wait forever for you, I promise. Just hold on, they're nearly here!"
"'s okay Belle." Isabelle sobbed as he used her nickname fondly. You don't have to wait for me...t-tell...tell Mia...tell her I l-love her..." he managed to gasp, and tears ran down Isabelle's cheeks as she held him tightly, his blood staining her purple dress crimson.
"Just hold on, Sam, please! SAM!" The all too familiar whine of an ambulance came from the distance, and sooner than Isabelle thought was possible, paramedics were at her side, speaking in heavily accented english. But they were too late.
Not that that occurred to them. They hauled the body up onto the portable bed they rolled out of the vehicle, and tried to resuscitate the agent, but they were too late.
And, as Isabelle realized this, she glanced around into the distance, unable to look at her dead friend. And she met a pair of all too familiar eyes in the distance. Standing alone, right on the corner, was Julien Sark.
Sark gave her once nod, as though to encourage her to keep going, before stuffing his hands in is jacket pockets and walking away.
Isabelle's whole body screamed at her to run after him, but her legs had turned to jelly as she heard the paramedics pronounce her friend dead. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out, and she fell to her knees as silent sobs racked her body.
Present time, the morning after Sam's funeral...
Groaning, Isabelle sat up in her bed and looked around. She had finally managed to fall asleep after much crying the previous night, and her face was still red and puffy.
It was a Monday, and usually she would have work, either at the office or out in the field, but she had been given two weeks off, and when she got back she would be stuck at a desk for possibly months. She didn't like it, but she knew it was necessary. If an agent was involved in a shooting and a fellow agent was injured or killed, the surviving agent would be assigned to a desk until the psychologist for that unit though they were ready to go out into the field once more.
She somehow got the feeling that wouldn't be for a while, especially seeing as her parents had a lot of power and control in their unit, and if it were up to them she would be behind a desk forever.
Iz rolled out of bed and half walked half stumbled to the bathroom, but she woke up when she saw herself in the mirror. She didn't even look like herself! Her skin was pale, making her light freckles stand out even more. Her lips were swollen from her biting them all the time, in an effort to release anxiety and grief. But her eyes were the most different feature of all...
They were usually a bright green, just like her father's, and were surrounded by thick lashes, but not anymore. They seemed duller, and empty of life. They were extremely bloodshot, and were surrounded with dark rings that faded into redness where she had rubbed her eyes the night before. She reached up to touch her cheek, but hissed in pain as a her palm began to sting. She looked down at it, only to discover that her medium length nails had dug into them and made long, gouges in the skin. She hadn't even noticed at the time.
She bent down and opened the cupboard door under the sink, and pulled out the First Aid box. She rolled bandages over her hands, and ended up looking as though she was wearing big, white mitts. She swore inwardly as she found herself unable to do much, but eventually managed to put the box away, though it was still very painful to hold things.
Of course, at this most inconvenient moment, the phone decided to ring.
She swore once more, (something she didn't usually do, but found herself doing more and more often lately, due to the circumstances), and ran to the kitchen, where the phone was plugged in. She managed to pull it out, and push the button, and put it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Hi Iz!" A happy voice came over the phone, and Isabelle smiled halfheartedly.
"Hey Mom."
"How are you feeling sweetheart?"
"Umm, I am fine."
"You don't sound so sure. Are you?"
Isabelle sighed. Nothing escaped her mother. "It will keep."
"Until when? You know you have to let things out, honey. Sam's death has had a huge effect on you, and-"
"Sam's death had had more than a hug effect, Mom. My life is upside down. I don't know what to do with myself anymore, and nothing is going to change that. You will always need something or someone to fix, Mom. But I will not let you fix me."
"Isabelle, getting over this doesn't mean you have to forget Sam. I understand he was a good friend, but-"
"A good friend? A goodfriend? Mom, you know nothing. He was my brother, father, uncle and best friend all in one. I haven't lost one person. I have lost my life! Everything that kept me going was in him, because I was stupid enough to depend on one person, and one person only."
"Iz, you can depend on me-"
"Yeah right. Until another threat of global destruction comes from a mad man. You have no time for me, Mom, and neither does Dad. Jack is good for a laugh or two, but other than that, I was alone! And now I am again."
There was a silence from the other end of the phone, and Isabelle was truly crying by now. "I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to take it out on you. I just...I don't know."
"It's hard, Iz. I know. But you will get through this. You are so strong, baby girl."
"If you say so."
"Iz, actually, I was calling to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night. It's been a while since we had a nice, family dinner, and I thought it would be good for you."
Isabelle bit her tongue, trying to fight off the angry reply that had formed in her throat. "Sure. I'll try and make it. What time?"
"Any time after 7 should be fine."
"Okay. Well, I have to go now. Bye Mom." Without waiting for an answer, Isabelle hung up the phone and let out a huge sigh.
Getting along with her mother had always been a difficult thing. The woman was much too focused on her own affairs for Isabelle's liking, and her father was the same. That they loved her was obvious, but they did not act upon it as much as the young woman would have liked. As a child, she had been smothered and protected, so when she had gone out into the big, wide word, she had been overwhelmed, and, as the child of the great Michael Vaughn and the even greater Sydney Bristow, everyone had expected perfection from her.
Well, everyone but Sam.
The next night...
Isabelle swung her car into her parent's driveway, wincing once more at the pain in her palms. The gouges in her skin refused to heal, and remained red, angry and open. She had put bandaids on them all in an attempt to make things easier to pick up and handle, but the lack of cushioning meant she felt every little thing when she touched it with her hands.
She managed to tug the door handle open with her fingertips, and shouldered her handbag before getting out. She then slammed the door shut with her hip and locked it with her wireless key.
She walked up the front steps, but before she could knock or ring the doorbell her mother opened the door, all smiles. Until she saw her daughter, that is. She just stopped her jaw from dropping as she took in Isabelle's appearance, and saw the pale skin and dark rings around her eyes. It was obvious that Isabelle had tried to hide the rings wit make up, but they were still visible.
She was skinnier than she had ever been, and it had all happened in a matter of days. She looked almost unsteady on her feet, and Sydney fought the impulse to reach out and help her stand.
Swallowing her pity, Sydney put a smile back on her face. "Hey sweetie, come on in!"
"Hey," Isabelle replied, giving a smile, though she did not feel happy at all.
She walked into the house that she had spent some of her life in, and set her handbag down in a corner. It was a family sized house, but had become a lot different to what i had been when she lived there. The furniture had been changed, and the whole theme of the house was now white, black and red. It was nice, but it gave the whole hose a sort of strict feeling, like if you messed anything up there would be hell to pay.
"Come on through to the kitchen, Iz," Sydney smiled and put her hand on her daughter's back, guiding her through the home.
It's not as though I don't know my own way, Isabelle complained to herself, but managed to stop herself from voicing what was in her mind. Her mother liked to spoil and look after her, and often there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Once she entered the kitchen, she saw her father and brother sitting at the bench, talking. It was shocking to see them with each other, but not because they didn't spend time together. In actual fact, they spent most of their time together. What always shocked Isabelle every time she looked at them together was that they looked the same, except her father's hair was greying and his face was much more worn than his son's.
"Hey guys! Look who's here?" Sydney beamed at them, and they looked up to see Isabelle.
Iz watched as a mixture of pity and sorrow filled their eyes as they looked at her, and she bit back tears as she watched them try to cover their true emotions with smiles.
"Hey honey," her father said, stepping forward and giving her a big, loving hug.
Next came Jack. "Hey sis," he awkwardly hugged her also. He looked as though he had something else to say, some other comment to make, but he never said it.
"I nearly have the roast done, so why don't you guys head to the table outside and I'll bring it out when it's done?" Sydney suggested, and the boys nodded and moved to walk outside.
Though upset she may have been, Isabelle still knew what was expected of her. As a child, she and her mother had always made dinner together while the boys waited for it and talked. Unless it was barbecue night, in which case the boys had total responsibility for everything. (These nights were also sometimes simply known as cereal night, as that was what ended up being eaten for dinner once Michael had set the barbecue on fire and Jack had accidentally tipped the 'salad' all over the floor."
"I'll stay and help you, Mom," Isabelle gave a small, half hearted smile and moved toward the cupboard where the aprons usually were.
"No, no, love. You go and sit outside with your father and Jack," Sydney ordered, trying to usher her daughter out of the kitchen.
"Mom, we always cook together-"
"Not tonight. Tonight, you just relax, sweetheart. Go on outside," Sydney ordered her once more, and though her tone was gentle and caring, there was a fairly stern and determined look in her eyes that made Isabelle think twice about arguing.
"Alright. But if you need any help, just yell." She turned and walked out the back door and onto the patio.
"You're joining us squirt?" Jack asked teasingly, and Isabelle fought to not roll her eyes. Jack was now 20, and she was 24, nearly 25, and he had called her squirt ever since he has gotten taller than her, which had been when he was only 15 and she was 19. She was pretty tall, but he was even taller.
"Yeah, Mom won't let me help out in the kitchen," she explained, though she didn't understand why.
"She wants to give you a break, love," her father told her, and smiled at her as she took a seat next to him and lent on his should lovingly.
"Yeah," Isabelle acknowledged his comment, but wasn't quite sure what to say in return. "So, umm, Jack, how are things going for you?"
Her brother gave a grin and launched into a detailed description of how he spent his time. "I went out with some friends the other day, and had a lot of fun there. We went to that new restaurant that's down near Jay's place, and we went crazy! And not normal crazy, like..."
Isabelle smiled, and nodded, pretending to listen. She did love her brother, and she wanted to be interested in what he was saying, and she wanted to be able to interact with him properly, but there was always something in the way. He was in his second year of CIA training, and it looked like he was going to become a great agent.
When Isabelle turned 16, her parents had decided it was time to tell her why they had moved around so much for the first part of her life, and when they told her about the CIA, she laughed and didn't believe them. But she soon learned just how true it was.
They also told Jack on his 16th birthday, and he had been excited and immediately begun to dream about a day when he would be just like his parents.
And the way things were looking, he would be just as good an agent as his parents.
"Hey guys, the food's ready! Michael, could you help me bring in some of this stuff?"
Michael smiled and stood, immediately following his wife into the kitchen to help her, and Sydney smiled as she watched.
"What?" Jack asked, looking amused.
"What do you mean, 'what'?" Isabelle asked in return.
"You sighed," he explained.
"So?" Isabelle queried, eyebrows raised.
"It was a special kind of sigh. The kind that you do when you're daydreaming and thinking about something important."
"Your point is...?" she trailed off questioningly.
"My point is that you are daydreaming about something. What's on your mind sis?" He asked her, but her reply was cut off before it even began as her parents walked out, setting bowls of salad onto the table, before walking back inside to get more food.
"I was just thinking about Mom and Dad," Isabelle told him.
"What about 'em?"
"Well, they are so happy. I mean, they hardly ever argue, or fight..." she trailed off.
"Well, they're in love, so when they do argue, it doesn't matter," he informed her, shrugging as he did so. He leaned forward and tried to grab a tomato out of the salad bowl in front of him.
Unfortunately for him, Sydney and Michael walked out of the house at this moment. "Jack, get your dirty hands out of the food and use the tools!" His mother commanded. "And, you could at least wait until all the food is on the table, and we're all seated! God, it's like you were raised by wolves!"
The couple set down the remaining food and sauces before seating themselves, and Isabelle watched as her father pulled the chair out for her mother, looking very gentleman-like.
"Why thank you, kind sir," her mother thanked him, smiling happily at him. Sydney then saw Isabelle's face, and frowned. "Is everything alright love?"
No, everything is not alright! I am falling apart, I have lost my best friend, and now for the first time in my life I wish I had someone...Isabelle stopped her thoughts. "I am fine," she lied, and smiled, though it was a very sad smile, and her mother was not convinced in the least, but thankfully let it be for the time being.
"Anyway, let's eat," her father said, and, before Isabelle knew what was happening, Jack had piled all the bread rolls and meat into his plate, and piling the sauces onto his plate by the bottle.
"Woah! Jack, would you like some dinner with your sauce?" Michael asked cheekily, grinning, and his son rolled his eyes and began to say something through his mouth full of food.
"Jack, eat with your mouth shut, and don't ever talk with your mouth full!" Sydney ordered, horrified by her son's manners, or lack thereof.
The agent-in-training finished his food with a gulp before speaking. "I am 20 years old, Mom. Not a kid anymore."
"If you're not a kid anymore, then maybe you could move out. You know, for the sake of independence," Michael suggested with a smirk.
"You see, I would move out, but I know you guys would be lost without me," he explained. "So, for the sake of my dear, wonderful parents, I shall remain."
"Of course, the free food, clothing and shelter is just a bonus," Sydney grumbled, rolling her eyes.
"Of course," Jack confirmed, looking serious.
Whilst they were having their rather amusing conversation, Isabelle sat in her place, holding back her tears. How can they laugh and smile? They knew Sam too! She struggled to keep her mouth shut and she looked down at her plate and began to roll the cherry tomatoes around with her fork, but she didn't eat anything. She really couldn't bring herself to eat or drink, or enjoy anything at that moment.
Soon enough, dinner was over they all moved into the living room for 'family' time, minus Sydney, of course, who was icing the cake she had made especially for the occasion.
Isabelle sat on the couch, and watched her father and brother joke around and laugh. They made a few attempts to include her with their fun, but she declined all invitations.
Eventually, Sydney walked back into the room. "The cake's ready! Michael, could you go get the ice cream and serve it?"
"Sure hon," came the reply and Isabelle's eyes followed her parents and watched as her father gave her mother's cheek a quick but loving kiss as he walked by her and through the doorway.
It was then that Sydney spotted her daughter as she sat there, looking sad and lost. "Jack, could you go help your father for me?" she asked her son, and he, being a very bright lad, knew why Sydney wanted him out of the room.
"Sure thing," he said happily as he jumped up from the couch. "Wouldn't want him to burn the ice cream, would we?" Jack grinned at his mother and sister before leaving.
Sydney looked at her daughter, who sat on the chair, playing with the band-aids on her hands.
"What happened, Iz?" Sydney asked gently as she sat down beside her daughter on the lounge.
"Nothing," Isabelle replied, putting her hands on her lap, palms down.
"If nothing happened, then why do you have band-aid mittens?" Sydney put and arm around her daughter's shoulders and gave her an encouraging smile.
"I was just upset, and my nails were longer than I thought they were. I was up late last the night after Sam's funeral, and I must have dug my nails in too hard. I only noticed in the morning though, and I have been treating the scratches properly, so don't worry."
"Can I have a look, love?" Sydney asked tenderly.
Isabelle sighed. "It's not that bad," she assured her mother.
"I know, but I want to have a look at what you did to yourself," Sydney insisted, though she went about it gently.
"Fine," Isabelle finally agreed, knowing it was pointless to argue with her mother.
Sydney reached over and pulled hr daughter's hands into her own lap, and lifted the edge of one of the band-aids. "Oh Iz! I though you said it wasn't that bad!" she exclaimed as examined the wounds.
There were angry, open marks on the marring the palms, and the skin around them was pink. It looked incredibly painful, and Sydney nearly teared up at the thought of her daughter having to go through something like that.
"Oh, God, Iz! What were you thinking about that made you so stressed you had to do this to yourself!"
"I didn't do it deliberately, it was just upset and I balled my hands into fists a little too hard..." she trailed off.
"What were you thinking about, Iz?" Sydney asked demandingly.
"Mom, unless you have forgotten, I lost my best friend last week. I think that entitles me to a couple nights up late crying!" she yelled furiously, and her mother looked shocked at her reaction.
"I am sorry, Iz. I thought you wouldn't want to talk about it, so-"
"Well, you were right. I don't want to talk about it," Isabelle announced to her mother curtly, before standing and leaving the room.
Sydney soon followed her out of the lounge, and they walked past Jack and Michael as Isabelle headed for the door.
"Iz, please, I am sorry if I upset you, I just want to look after you. Please, stay, sweetheart!"
Isabelle ignored her mother's cries and left the house, storming over to her car. In her fury, she ignored the pain of her palms, and tugged the car door open before jumping in. She saw her mother standing at the front door, watching her, and her father soon came to join her, looking confused at what was happening.
She backed the car it, ignoring the twinge in her heart as she did so, and, with one, final twist of the steering wheel and press of her foot to the pedal, she was away from her family, and the pain they gave her.
But the problem was, now she felt even worse.
Later that night, Isabelle sat on the bench in her kitchen, changing the band-aids she had on her palms. The current ones came off easily as they had become loose over the last few hours.
She pulled others out, and placed them over her palms, but they refused to stick. She pressed harder and harder in an attempt to get them to stay, but all that achieved was a lot more pain. As far as the adhesiveness of the band-aids went, no progress was made.
Isabelle cradled her mangled hands in her lap, and bit her lip as, for what seemed to be the millionth time that week, tears spilled over from her cheeks and she began to sob, both from physical and emotional pain.
She got no sleep that night.
So, there is the next chapter. I am very sorry that it is so short compared to other chapters I have done in the past, but, well, I have lots of big ideas but I didn't necessarily want to introduce them in the second chapter.
Anyway, please leave a review and let me know what you think! I can't improve if you don't.
By the way, I know that people are reading this story, as I have had a look at the hits and visitors. If you read this, PLEASE, PLEASE, leave a review and let me know what you think!
Also, I just want to make it clear, if I didn't already, that Isabelle didn't cut her palms deliberately, and the scratches in the skin are from her nails digging in. I just thought that would add an extra something to the story, and show you just how much pain and grief she is dealing with. It's a wonder she's still functioning!
Also, for any who are confused, the reason Sam meant so much to her was because he was a great guy and a good FRIEND, nothing more. He was married with kids, so Iz was more like a daughter or a niece to him.