"How is she?" Samuel asked quite loudly, as soon a nurse walked up with the test results, "Breanne Larsen."

The nurse gave him an appraising look, "Well, she tested possitive for Crystal Meth." he took a step away, and gave a great heave of breath from his chest, "but that could mean any number of things. Chances are, it was all over the apartment. When she crawled around, it could have gotten on her hands and then she put them in her mouth, or -"

"She's three months old," he groaned disgustedly, "She can't crawl."

"Then it was probably contracted through the air. Mr. Larsen, this is by no fault of your own. I do suggest you don't try out for any school teams any time soon, however. The Meth will probably be in your system for quite a while and any scan tron will detect it. I would wait at least six months."

"Six months?" he shrieked, "Soccer starts in six weeks. Isn't there something you can do to get this thing out of me? And her? She can't be like this. She's going to be a three month old child going through detox!"

She shook her head, and her eyes visibly dimmed, "We could do a stomach pump, but it would be painful and still, it wouldn't be completely out of your system. You'd still have to wait to let it all pass."

He nodded, his face not proving any emotion at all. He quickly set Bree back in the small crib type mechanism, and collapsed against it, even as Marissa tried to support his weight and keep him up, "Oh my God." he whispered mostly to himself. Tears began to fall down his face as his shoulders shook furiously. Marissa bent to her knees beside him, covering him in her comforting embrace. Samuel had never felt so useless before in his life. He just laid there, letting the tears fall, clinging on to Marissa's arm for dear life.

That was the moment when a new doctor decided to make his presence known. Marissa's eyes snapped in the direction of the man who had just interrupted the first time she had seen Samuel cry in months. She didn't want him to put the tough guy face back on. She knew it was good for him to cry. Crying was the first step to letting go.

"Dr. Sloane," the nurse spoke in a worried tone.

The doctor proceeded to speed with a tone of giddy excitement in his voice that he was desperately trying to hold back, but he was failing terribly, "There was a seven car pile-up on the turn pike. They expect we'll need the respirators open. Six females, ten males, all badly injured, and four of them crashed on the way here. Mr. Larsen; we need you to make a decision, right now." the doctor began, "We can operate and run you several thousand dollars, or we can take her off the respirator and let her go peacefully. It is your choice."

He didn't even give it a second's thought, "Let her go." was the only thing he was able to get out of his mouth, before Marissa took his face in her hands and made him look her dead in the face.

"Sam, you can think about this. You don't have to make a decision this moment. Think about it for a minute. Please, I don't want you making a decision that you'll regret for the rest of your life."

His eyes filled with fury; not at Marissa, but at his own mother, "I'm done with this, Marissa. I can't do this anymore. If I let her have the operation and she lives, then I'll have to put up with her for the rest of my life, and I can't put my sisters through what I was put through growing up. I made my decision a long time ago." He could see the tears building in Marissa's eyes, as he looked up with a stony expression and said with a voice as cold as ice, "Take her off." The doctor nodded, then took to the door, "Doctor!" Dr. Sloane turned around at the sudden call of his name, "I'd like to sign the release for her organs to be donated."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

Sloane nodded, and was followed by the nurse to the operating room. After they were gone, Samuel stood, took one last look at his baby sister, and left the nursery. As soon as he heard the door close behind himself, then Marissa, he took off running, and flew into a restroom. Marissa listened at the door for a moment, then heard a scream. Not of terror, of anguish. She burst through the door, and found the mirror over one of the sinks to be smashed to tiny bits, and Samuel slamming his fists into the ground.

Once again, she collapsed beside him, and held him tightly, observing his bloody knuckles. At that point, she more or less trying to keep him from hurting himself further rather than comforting.

"You can't do this to yourself!" she yelled, as he thrashed in her arms and she struggled to keep him in place. He was an easy five or six inches taller than her, so she was struggling terribly to keep him from hurting himself farther. She watched him deteriorate. He couldn't breathe. He started panting, and then finally, he flew to his feet, shook Marissa off and locked himself in a stall, and finally gave into the pressure and suddenly became violently ill.

A/N: So, this has been yet another Samuel-centric chapter. I promise to make very many more of these, seeing as I really don't like Samuel, and I'm no entirely sure why Marissa is there yet. I figured I had to add her in at one point or another, and this seemed just as good a time as any. I'm particularly a fan of Samuel. He just seemed to be the easiest to make have a terrible home life, just because I think on the show, he kinda looks like a hobo.

Soon I plan to go a little bit more Damsay central, considering I think the last time I really talked about them was chapter eight, which is far too long a time to go without a scandalous love octagon type deal, so I'm going to try to wrap up this little arc type deal soon and start something new.

I need opinions, though. I want to know how I'm doing. What can I improve on? What do you all want to see?

Also, don't forget, after 50 reviews, you get a spin-off, so let's get going, oh viewers of mine!

Don't forget to review and read some of my other stories and review on those, too, just because they have NO reviews!

Thanks all! Hang loose!

~Mags