I don't own Supernatural or any references to anything else you may recognize.

I gulped down the glass of stale water and promptly filled it back up. I drank this one more slowly, enjoying the soothing feeling of the water sliding down my throat, even if it was lukewarm. My throat was dry and rough, and I knew I'd have trouble talking if the situation called for it.

I wiped a hand over my forehead, pushing back the sweat-drenched locks of hair that clung to it, and I flattened myself out on the cot. I pulled my shirt up to expose my stomach, hoping that it would help me cool down. Why the hell is it so fucking hot in here? I wondered agitatedly. No matter what I do, I can't stop sweating. Is this just another part of the process or what?

As I closed my eyes, I found my mind wandering back to Sam. What have I done? What if he was coming to tell me everything was going to be okay? What if he was coming to tell me that he'd forgiven me? I sighed deeply and rolled over onto my side. Oh, who am I kidding? If that was the reason he came down here, he would've said it first. He wouldn't have let me ramble on. He wouldn't have let me end it. Not even Sam Winchester, King of Forgiveness, can forgive me.

I was broken out of my thoughts by the smell of something burning. My eyes popped open, and I let out a yelp as I saw fire licking the sides of the cot. "Guys!" I yelled hoarsely, hoping that they would pay attention to me. "Guys, there's a fire!" The flames had spread to cover the entire room, and the edges of the cot were charred black with ash. "Guys, please! I need—ah!" I jerked back as the fire burned straight through my pants and onto my thigh. "Fuck!" I snatched up the scratchy blanket and patted it on my leg, trying to extinguish the last of the flames clinging to me.

I stared longingly at the pitcher of water across the room and watched as the fire climbed up the table and burnt it to the ground. Even if the table was still standing, I would never have been able to get to the water without burning myself further. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The fire was on the cot now, and I tried to pat it out with the blanket. I could only hold it back for so long before I would be overwhelmed. Maybe it's not real, I thought desperately. Maybe it's just another hallucination. Maybe it'll go away when I close my eyes. I tried that plan, but, when I opened my eyes, the fire was still there. …Or maybe I'll burn to a crisp.

"You're doing this, y'know," a rough, sarcastic voice said, and I knew that I'd heard that voice before. I looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice. "Over here," it said, and I turned towards it. A tall, thin woman stepped out of a shadowy area of the room that I hadn't noticed before. She had long, platinum blonde hair that reached almost to her waist, and her full lips were stretched into a large, mocking grin. She looked strangely familiar somehow, but I couldn't put my finger on who she was. "Nice to finally meet you in person," she said.

"Who are you?" I demanded, temporarily forgetting about the fire creeping toward me.

"C'mon, think, Garideth," the woman teased. "I know you can figure it out."

"Would you cut the crap and just tell me who you are?" I huffed. "I'm sick of this. I have been locked in this goddamn panic room for at least three fucking weeks, and I am sick of these fucking hallucinations! So you wanna tell me who you are so we can get to the torturing or whatever?"

"I'm disappointed in you, Garideth," the woman said. "Here, I'll give you a few hints." She grinned and stepped through the flames. They licked up the side of her body, but they didn't seem to hurt her at all. "I know how to survive better than anything. You don't consider me a friend, but you wouldn't have lasted this long without me. Towards the end of our run, you started accepting my presence, but after you killed that stupid kid, you kicked me out."

Realization struck me, and my eyes widened in shock. "You—you're the voice in my head," I said slowly.

The woman smirked. "Give the girl a medal!" she praised mockingly. "See? I knew you could figure it out!" She shook her hair back over her shoulder, and the movement seemed so familiar.

I suddenly knew who she looked like. "Why do you look like me?" I asked, slightly dreading her answer.

"Because I am you," she replied, and I gulped, my suspicions confirmed. "Or, rather, I'm what you could've been if—"

"If I'd kept drinking," I interrupted, and I tried my best to sound bored and unconcerned. "Right, yeah, got it. Well, you can just go now because there's no way I'm gonna be you."

"Imagine it, though, Garideth!" the woman exclaimed. "Don't you remember how it felt to be powerful? How it felt to kill demons with only your mind?" Her voice lowered, and her eyes glinted menacingly. "How it felt to have the blood rush through your body, to have every nerve sparking with energy? To be unstoppable?"

"N—no," I said shakily. "I don't."

She smirked again. "Even though I'm not in your head anymore, I can still tell when you're lying."

I sighed. "Okay, fine. Yes, I remember how it felt. I remember the tingling sensation and the dizzying sense of unlimited power. I remember all of it. And…"

"And?" she pressed.

"And I miss it," I confessed softly.

"Of course you do! You'd be stupid not to!"

"But—but that doesn't mean anything!" I argued, and the flames flared up momentarily. I slid further into the center of the cot and curled up my legs. "It doesn't mean that I'm gonna start back up again! I want to get clean!"

The Woman—that's what I decided to call her; I couldn't think of her as me—laughed lightly. "Look at yourself, Garideth. You can't even stop the fire. You're pathetic. You're stuck in here with no powers and no way out, and you've got no one left."

"That's not true!" I protested desperately. Don't let her get to you. Don't let her get to you. "Even after this, the boys and Elle will still be there for me!"

"Do you really believe that?" the Woman asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

"Yes!" I replied fiercely and with way more conviction than I actually felt.

She smirked at me, as if to say yeah, right. "So you don't think Dean stopped trusting you the minute you hurt his brother?" she said casually. "You don't think Bobby has no idea how to treat you after this? You don't think Ella is just being Ella and pretending you're still her sister? And you don't think Sammy—I'm sorry, Sam—will never be able to get past this, to get past what was said and done by both of you, and love you again?"

I blinked back tears at her words. I knew she was right. I knew nothing would ever be the same again. "Please," I whispered. "Don't—just leave me alone. You've done enough."

"No, I don't think so," she said with a shake of her head. "You're not hurting enough yet. Now, let's see… What can I torture you with now?" She tapped her index finger against her chin thoughtfully. "I mean, of course, this is before we get to the actual torture."

My eyes widened in fear. "Wait, what—what d'you—?"

"Oh, yes, Garideth," the Woman said gleefully. "We'll get to the fun stuff later. Now, this—this is just the emotional crap. This is just the first step." She paused. "Well, actually it's the—" She looked up at the ceiling and counted off on her fingers, "Let's see—your dad, Greg, Soulless Sam, and our little talking session—that makes four. So, technically, it's the fourth step."

"H—how many steps are there?" I asked warily.

"Oh, you'll find out soon," she promised, smirking at me again. Do I really look that evil when I smirk? Man, I've gotta stop doing that. "Hmmm, what do we talk about now?" She raised her eyebrows at me. "Any ideas?" I wrapped my arms around my knees and looked away from her. "No? Okay, well, then… How about we talk about Sam?"

No, no, no, no, no! Not Sam, I thought desperately.Anything but Sam. However, I kept my face completely neutral, positive that if she saw me betray any emotion, she'd jump at it.

It didn't seem to work, for she grinned widely and said, "Yes, let's go with that. Did you see his face when he looked in that grate for the first time?" she asked. She placed her hand over her heart dramatically. "He was so worried about you! It was so sweet. But then you just had to push him away and piss both brothers off. 'It's Sam.' Oooh, that line gave me chills!" She shivered enthusiastically and grinned even wider. "That just had to be the worst thing to hear. I really couldn't imagine how he could hurt you more. But, then, what d'you know?" she continued. "He came back for you! Even after you hurt him, and even after he said that to you! Isn't Sammy just the greatest?"

"Please stop," I begged, and I buried my face in my knees. "Please. I don't wanna hear any more."

"And then it gets really good," the Woman said, ignoring my pleas. "He came down here to forgive you! You know that, right? I mean, why else would he come down here after what you did and what he said?"

"Stop it," I mumbled, and a tear leaked out from under my eyelid. I wiped it away before she could see. "Please."

"He was coming down here to take back what he said! To give you a chance to apologize for what you did! He was gonna let you explain yourself!" she said excitedly, a hysterical giggle escaping from her lips at my reaction. "Did you see the look on his face when you said you deserved to be in here? If you'd let him come in, he would've taken you in his arms and held you and told you everything would be okay, just like you always wanted! He'd be in here right now, or at least right outside that door, and he'd be talking to you the whole time! You wouldn't have to deal with this—with any of the hallucinations or the pain or anything because he would've helped you! And, once you got out, the two of you would go back to normal, sickeningly-in-love Gari and Sammy!"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" I yelped, and the flames that I'd almost forgotten about flared up once again. I let out a small gasp as the end of the cot caught fire.

"But, instead, you fucked it up," she said as she stepped closer to me. I tried to scoot away, but I couldn't go too far or I would fall off the edge. "You were so scared that he was gonna really break it off, so horrified at the thought of hearing him tell you it was over, that you broke it off yourself. You ruined your last chance. He's not gonna take you back now. That was the final straw. I bet he's sitting up in Bobby's living room right now, just thinking back on all the time he wasted with you."

"No!" I shrieked, and I shoved the Woman away from me. "That's not true!"

"Oh, but it is," she hissed, moving closer again until her face was inches away from mine. "Daddio was right, and you were right to agree: you do fuck up everything. You had something good here, Garideth! But look at what you've done now! Even if you survive the detox—"

"If?" I echoed fearfully.

"—you'll be alone," the Woman continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "They won't want or trust you after this. You'd be better off dead." She shrugged. "You should just kill yourself and save everyone the trouble of having to deal with you later."

"W—what? No!" I protested disbelievingly. "I made it this far without doing that—even if you did help me through it—there's no way I'm giving up now! Not even if none of them trust me! Not even if they kick me out! If there's even the slightest chance that I can fix this mess, I'm gonna take it!"

The Woman was quiet for a moment, and she gazed at me thoughtfully. I thought I saw a little bit of pride in her cold eyes, but I couldn't be sure. Are my eyes that cold and unfeeling? Am I this frightening when I get mad? She can't really be me on demon blood, can she? I couldn't really become that. The blood didn't change me that much… did it?

"You sound pretty set on that decision," she said finally, and dread bubbled in the pit of my stomach at her calculating tone.

"I am," I confirmed, my voice thankfully not shaking.

"Well, alrighty, then. Let's get started." Before I had time to figure out what that meant, she snapped her fingers in my face. My body went rigid, and I was unable to move as she adjusted my position on the cot. I was laying out the way I was when Soulless Sam had tortured me, but I hadn't been cuffed yet, and I didn't know why. "Oh, I don't need the handcuffs," she told me, like she knew what I was thinking. "I'm strong enough to hold you there on my own. Even with all of these distractions."

"D—dis—distractions?" I managed to say, though my throat ached with the effort.

"Your screams, of course," she replied offhandedly. She moved her hand in a sweeping gesture, and the fire that now reached the ceiling of the panic room went out, leaving the whole room looking blackened and charred. I increased my struggles to break free of whatever she had done to me, but it was no use. I couldn't move at all.

"W—what—?"

"—am I gonna do to you?" she finished. That smirk stretched over her face again. "You'll see," she said ominously. "Oh, you'll see." Did she really just quote Gollum at me? Oh, this is bad. This is very bad. "The good news: this is the final step. You make it through this, and you're completely healed of any demon-tainted traits. The bad news, well…" She laughed. "You're gonna wish you'd killed yourself."

With that, she ran her index finger down the side of my face, right beside my right eye. "What are you—?" I broke off with a gasp of pain as I felt my skin splitting open. Blood ran down the side of my face and into my hair. "Shit!" I cursed, and the Woman laughed. Next, she traced her finger across a spot right under my neck, and another gash appeared. This one hurt worse than the first one, and I bit my lip to stop from crying out. I knew that that was what she wanted.

"You can scream," she told me kindly. "I don't mind. Actually, it's more fun that way. Well, for me, at least."

"N—no," I said stubbornly, and she shrugged.

"You're not really gonna have much of a choice, anyway," she replied casually, and then she moved her finger across my right arm. She ran it down from my elbow to my wrist in a slightly spiraling motion, and I suddenly realized what she was doing.

"You—you're recreating every—"

"—every injury you had on demon blood, yes," she said with a nod. I sucked in my breath sharply as she sliced open my left forearm. "Aren't you a clever girl? Now, see, this is going to get you clean. All of these injuries were healed up so well and so quickly because you were on Vitamin D. So doesn't it make sense that, to get rid of all this tainted blood, you have to bleed it out through everything it fixed?"

I didn't want to admit it, but it made perfect sense to me. "But Sam didn't—" I tried, but she cut me off again. Am I ever gonna be able to finish a sentence?

"Sam was different," she said. "I know you've thought about that, too. He wasn't in here near as long as you'd been. He never killed a kid. He never had healing abilities. He was always part human, and that part made it easier for him. All he had to do was keep a hold on his humanity." She grinned slyly and continued to cut up my arms. "But you've got no humanity, do you, Garideth? There's no telling what you are, really. You're the first—and last—of your kind, and you're giving all of that power up right now."

"It's worth it," I said hoarsely. "It's all worth it. All I want is to be normal. If this is how that happens, then so be it. As long as I get clean."

"Don't you get it?" the Woman asked, moving down to my legs. All I could think about at the moment was how grateful I was that I hadn't broken anything while drinking the blood. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop from screaming if she started snapping my legs. "You're never gonna be normal!" she said, jolting me out of my thoughts. "You're always gonna be a freak, a monster! Getting clean doesn't change that because you know deep down that the real problem isn't the demon blood or the witchy heritage—it's you."

"Alright, alright, fine. We'll move on. Hmmm… What else?" the Woman said to herself. I stared up at her, breathing hard from the effort of not screaming. "We'll save your stomach and the rest of your chest for last… I know there was that werewolf that really fucked you up there… Oh! I know!" she said, her eyes lighting up at her new idea. "You bruised quite a few ribs, didn't you?"

My eyes widened. "No—that's not—I didn't bleed then!" I protested weakly. "It was just bruising!"

"Aw, c'mon, Garideth," she said, pushing her bottom lip out in a mock-pout. "It's still something the blood healed! It still counts in my book!" She balled her hands into fists and landed three sharp blows in my right side. I gritted my teeth and let out a low growl. I knew if she'd hit me any harder, my ribs would've cracked."Left side now!" She went around and hit my left side five times, and then threw her fist into my gut.

I coughed loudly as all of the air left my lungs. "W—what was t—that for?" I croaked.

"It was fun," she shrugged. She frowned suddenly. "Well, I guess all that's left is your stomach," she said sadly. "Where to begin?"

I started struggling again, trying fruitlessly to break free of whatever hold she had on me. She shook her head disappointedly at my futile attempt, and she ran all five fingers of her left hand diagonally across my chest from my clavicle to the bottom of my ribs in a slow, deliberate motion. "No!" I yelped. "No! N—AH!"

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just wasn't strong enough.

As she shredded my stomach, I screamed louder and longer than I ever had before. I screamed while blood splattered my neck and face and pooled around me, soaking through the cot and leaking onto the floor. I screamed when she paused to wipe the sweat from her brow, and I screamed when she started slicing again. My voice had long since failed me, but I still kept screaming.

I gave up when she finally stopped and wiped her blood-stained hands on her shirt. My throat was unbelievably raw; it felt like someone had shoved a cheese grater down my windpipe and wiggled it around a bit. I swore I could taste blood, but I didn't know if my throat was bleeding or if some blood from my face or chest had gotten into my mouth. Tears ran down my face and into my hair, but I had long since become accustomed to the burn of the salty water in the gash by my eye. Compared to everything else, that was nothing.

The Woman crossed her arms and looked down at her handiwork. "I think that's—Oh, wait, nope!" She clapped her hands together twice. "One more thing!"

"Please…" I mouthed, unable to force out a sound. "Please… stop…"

"But this is the best part!" she assured me happily. She formed her right hand into the shape of a gun and pointed it at my left shoulder.

"No…" I begged, trying my hardest to speak as I realized what was about to happen. "Please…" I had no strength left to struggle—I was barely managing to even stay conscious—and I knew that no amount of struggling would help me, anyway.

"Bang!" she exclaimed, and pain ripped through my shoulder. A fresh round of tears streamed out of my eyes as my mouth opened in a silent cry. "One more time!" she sang. She pretended to cock her finger-gun. "Kapow!" Blood splattered over both of our faces, and she laughed maniacally.

My back arched up off the cot, and one last anguished scream was torn from my shredded vocal chords. I crashed back down onto the cot and lay there, shaking violently as wave after wave of agony shot through my body.

The Woman wiped the blood from her face with her arm, and her tongue darted out to lick the blood from her lips. "Hmmm…" she said thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling and tapping her index finger on her chin again. "Yep, that's it!" she said cheerfully. "You're all squeaky-clean now!" I was too weak to even feel relief at this point, so I just watched her emotionlessly from almost-closed eyes. "It's been fun," she told me. "Not just the torture, but the whole long ride. Even though you were weak, pathetic, and whiny most of the time, I've grown quite fond of you." Her eyes sparkled deviously. "I'm sure you feel the same about me," she said wryly. "Wish I could stick around to see if you live through this—though I doubt it, but I've been wrong before, especially about you—but I gotta jet. Hasta la vista, baby."

She smirked at me one last time, and then she was gone.

I let out a long, shaky breath, and then I was gone, too.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I could just barely hear voices talking off to my left, but I was too out of it to figure out who the voices belonged to.

"Dean," one of the voices said shakily, "t—that's a lot of blood. That's her blood." I realized then that the voices must be talking about me. "We should've come down here as soon as we heard her scream like that. I've never heard anyone scream like that."

"What's she done to herself?" a second, deeper voice asked, and it seemed to me that its owner was trying to stay calm.

"You—you really think she did this?" the first voice asked, sounding horrified.

"I dunno. Who else could've? No one's in there with her."

The voices became quieter, and I wondered why. Then I noticed that my hearing was the problem. It was failing. I was slipping further into unconsciousness. Somehow, I knew that I couldn't let myself pass out again.

Not yet.

I have to make them stay, I thought desperately. I have to get help. I have to get out of here.

"H—help," I croaked weakly, my voice grating in my destroyed throat, forcing my eyes open and staring toward the voices. Something warm, red, and sticky flowed into my right eye, but I kept it open despite the irritation. Wide, frightened, hazel eyes stared back at me through the grate in the door. Sam. "Sam," I choked out, stretching my fingers toward him, "please."

His eyes disappeared from view, and I heard him say, "Dean, we can't just leave her in there! She could die!"

"What if she's just tryin' to get out?" Dean asked unsurely. "What if she's faking?"

"No one could fake that!" Sam argued. "This is Gari we're talking about! She wouldn't do that!" His eyes suddenly appeared in the grate again. "She's clean," he said, and a small part of me rejoiced at how quickly he'd figured it out. The other part of me was just focusing on staying awake long enough to see if he'd come get me. "I'm sure of it. It's like the fits I had. This is the blood's way of fighting back."

"What if you're wrong, Sammy? What if she is faking?"

"Please," I breathed, and tears streamed down my face as my hand fell limply off the cot. I couldn't feel pain anymore. I was completely numb, and I knew that couldn't be a good thing.

"I'm not letting her die," Sam said stubbornly, and the door creaked open. My eyes fluttered closed as he walked toward me. I was faintly aware of being lifted off the cot by a pair of strong arms, and I subconsciously curled into Sam's broad chest. "It's okay, I've got you," I heard him say; then everything went black.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

My body was completely numb, and I felt clean—not like just-out-of-the-shower clean, though I felt that, too—but like all of the demon blood was out of my system, like it had never been there in the first place. When I opened my eyes, I saw only white. What the fuck? Am I dead? Is this Heaven? I let out a sharp, strangled laugh. Yeah, right. Heaven.

"Oh, good, you're awake," an unfamiliar male voice said.

I jumped slightly, looking around for the voice. And that'll be God, right? The bastard. "Where am I?" I asked, wincing as my voice cracked painfully.

"Sioux Falls General Hospital," the man answered. "You've been out for a few days. You were half-dead when that young man brought you here. He's barely left your room since—"

"What?" I asked sharply, not even paying attention to the last few things he said. Oh, God, why can't it be Heaven? Or even Hell? Anywhere but a fucking hospital! I sat up quickly and let out a gasp as something pulled on my stomach. "Fuck!" I yelped.

"Ms. Ford, please!" the man said worriedly, and I finally saw him. Oh, great. A doctor. "You'll pull your stitches!"

"Stitches? What the fuck are you talking about?" I yelled, ignoring the pain it caused me. "I don't need stitches! You're fucking crazy!" I flipped the crisp white sheet off me and started to get up.

"You really need to get back in bed!" the doctor ordered frantically.

I narrowed my eyes at him and snapped, "Listen, doc, no offense, and thanks for the morphine or whatever, but I don't need stitches, I've never needed stitches, and I'm getting the fuck outta here! And if I have to go through you to do that, believe me—I will!"

The doctor looked taken aback and more than a little scared, but he didn't give up. "Ms. Ford, I can't let—!"

I slid off the side of the bed and let out a loud cry. I fell to my knees, clutching my stomach, and I let out a string of profanities that made the good doctor blush like a little school girl.

Suddenly, the door opened and Sam walked in. I'd never been so happy to see someone in my life, even if he quite possibly hated me at the moment. "Gari, what are you—?"

"Don't you say one more goddamn word, Sam Winchester!" I interrupted fiercely, attempting to get back to my feet. "You get me outta here right now!"

He came over and helped me up. I clutched onto his arm and winced as that weird pain started in my stomach again. "Maybe this isn't the best idea…" he said gently. "You're still not all the way healed, and—"

"Goddamnit!" I exclaimed furiously, jerking away from him and stumbling slightly. "Fine! You don't wanna get me outta here, I'll get out my…" I trailed off as black spots appeared in my vision and the room started spinning. There was a loud roaring in my ears, and I saw Sam moving quickly toward me. "Oh, fuck," I hissed, and I crumpled to the ground.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

When I woke up, I realized I was lying on a creaky, familiar bed. I'm home, I thought happily. My eyes fluttered open slowly, and I let out a groan as I was slammed with a throbbing sensation that covered my entire body. "Ugh." I saw Sam standing near the door, and I asked, "What happened?"

"You strained yourself too much," he said.

"Care to explain? Have a seat," I offered, gesturing to the foot of the bed.

"You pulled your stitches," he replied flatly, stubbornly refusing to move from the doorframe. I opened my mouth angrily, but he cut in before I could say anything. "After all that happened to you… down there… yeah, you did need stitches. See for yourself."

I rolled my eyes and pulled the hospital gown up enough to expose my stomach. My entire abdomen was covered in stitched-up gashes, and the biggest one looked like it had been bleeding recently. "Well, what d'you know," I mumbled to myself. "The doc was telling the truth."

"How d'you feel?" he asked, and I frowned at the lack of emotion in his voice.

"Like I got shredded by the human personification of the demon-blood-induced voice in my head," I deadpanned.

His eyes widened slightly. "Wait, what?"

"Eh, long story," I said offhandedly. "'Ms. Ford, huh? Lita, I'm guessing?"

He nodded. "I figured you'd appreciate it."

"I do—nice job." I looked around the room and noticed about five or six empty coffee cups on the bedside table. I glanced back at Sam, and he shifted uncomfortably. "How long have I been out?" I asked.

"About two weeks. You woke up a few times, but you were too out of it to do anything other than groan. We've been giving you your medication since you wouldn't let us keep you in the hospital. The doctor was all too happy to be rid of you." A small smile started to stretch over his face, but he quickly masked it.

I chewed on my lip nervously and stared down at the old comforter. "Sam, can we talk?" I asked quietly. "Y'know, about what I said to you?"

He looked away for a minute, then looked back at me and said, "You know I was coming to forgive you, right?"

I nodded. "I know."

"But I dunno what to do now."

"I know," I repeated.

"I think…" He swallowed deeply, a pained expression on his face that I could see even through the shadows of the room. "I think I'm gonna need some time," he murmured. "After all that—well, I mean, I think we both need some time to figure out what's going on here."

"We could figure it out together!" I said desperately, just wishing that everything could go back to how it used to be.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know you anymore, Garideth. You changed so much when I was gone—you're not my—you're not Gari."

"I am!" I cried, tears springing to my eyes. "Sammy, please, I—" I stopped myself and said, "I'm sorry. Force of habit."

He nodded. "I'm not saying it's all your fault—I remember how bad I was without Dean—but you made the exact same mistakes that I did. You hid it from all of us, from me—I could've helped you, Gari!" he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It didn't have to get this bad."

"I know, I'm sorry, I…" I trailed off and gazed at him sadly. "I'm never gonna live this down, am I?" I whispered.

"I don't know," he answered, sounding truly confused. "I just don't know."

"Don't give up on me yet," I pleaded. "You can't give up on me yet. You loved me once, Sam. And I still love you so much it hurts. That's never gonna change. Please tell me it hasn't changed for you, either."

He stepped out of the shadows, and I was surprised and horrified to see that those beautiful hazel eyes had a distinctly misty quality to them. I don't wanna hurt him like this. I don't wanna make him cry. How could I do this to him?

"I still love Gari," he said thickly. "When you find her, let me know."

With that, he walked away, and I stared after him, completely lost, as my world crumbled down around me.

5,621.