Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews guys! I was hoping you would like the last chapter. And, because I took so long last time posting chapter seven, I'm posting this chapter earlier to give you all something to read. I don't know when chapter nine is going to be up though.
Also, this chapter is incredibly short, I know, and I'm sorry. But I got what I needed to write out. The next chapter will be longer, I promise!
Please review! I love it when you guys do.
Lovesick
Chapter Eight
Sam awoke a few hours later from a light sleep. She stood staring at the ceiling, feeling Danny's chest rise and fall beside her. She couldn't believe what she was about to do.
Sam quickly stood up. After pulling on her clothes, she reached under her pillow. Her hand returned clutching a long blade. She walked over to Danny's side of the bed. She held the blade above his neck, barely grazing his skin with the tip of the blade.
Do it, Sam pressured herself. Just get it over with. She grimaced. She was just about to slash the blade down his throat when she heard a sound from upstairs. A cough. A sleepy voice. Then a snore.
Sam froze, the blade slipping out of her hand. It landed on the carpet softly. She listened, but she could only hear the soft murmur of owls outside, reflecting the lonely song in her heart.
Sam looked down at her sleeping lover and felt her throat constrict. Tears swelled in her eyes. She was going to kill him! A few more seconds, and she would have. How did she get in this position? She..loved him. A few tears ran down her cheeks.
Sam bent down to retrieve the knife, which had bounced under the bed. She held it up to the candlelight, squinting as the light cast shadows along the cool steel. She could barely make out the initials PM engraved on one side.
Pamela Manson, Sam thought bitterly. I'm holding the same blade my mother was going to use to kill Maddie.
At the thought of Mrs. Fenton, a few more tears trickled down her cheeks. How could her mother ever want to kill someone so nice? How could she even think about it? Had she no heart?
And yet, here Sam was, holding a blade above the throat of her sleeping lover, who just happened to be Maddie's son. She was sent to kill him and the rest of the Fentons after all. Could she do it? Could she finish her mother's dirty work?
She lowered the blade until the tip brushed Danny's throat lightly. She pressed it a bit harder, and small drops of blood appeared.
It was now or never.
Sam hesitated for a moment, watching Danny sleep. He snored suddenly, causing Sam to smile sadly. He seemed so peaceful, as if he didn't have a care in the world...
No, she couldn't do it.
She drew back the blade, her grip tightening around the handle. A single tear slid down her cheek and dropped onto Danny's cheek. It glistened as the candles flickered in the nearly non-existent breeze.
Sam was suddenly overcome with emotion, and she rushed to the bathroom. She locked herself in and stood leaning against the door, tears silently trailing down her cheeks.
She looked down at the blade, an idea forming in her mind. Maybe it had some use after all..
The past years had come back to Sam. Her mother, her father, her horrible past, Danny, her intention on killing him, the rapes she had to go through when she was younger to improve her...skill. Incredible that looking at the blade and seeing her reflection brought all these memories back to her, and for the first time, she was afraid. For the first time, she didn't want to handle it.
She slowly pressed the blade to her. The steel felt cool against her sweaty skin. Then, before she even knew she was doing it, she slit her wrist. Blood immediately trickled from the open wound, pulsing under the angry glare of the bathroom lights. Sam held her breath. It hurt, it hurt so much, but it released so much too. Her frustration, her feelings, she could feel them slipping away, like the blood that was dripping onto the clean tile.
She sliced her wrist again, this time forcing the blade to penetrate deeper into her skin. She gasped. It was a relief! All her problems were simply dropping away.
Sam cut herself again and again, each time cutting even deeper into her skin, the blood now flowing freely. It felt so good, to not have to deal with it. This was her escape.
The blade, now fully covered with blood, suddenly slipped out of her hand. Sam leaned against the door, her vision becoming blurry. She vaguely wondered why. She tried to stand up but felt the floor tilt under her. She used her injured hand and put it firmly on the counter for support. She heard the jingle of the lock and stepped away from the door, suddenly feeling very nauseous.
Danny, standing on the other side, growled in frustration. He gave up trying to open the door and simply phased through it. He gasped at what he saw.
Sam lay collapsed next to a dark puddle of blood. He noticed her wrist had many large cuts and blood was flowing from all of them. He paled as he noticed the puddle of blood was hers.
Without thinking, he rushed over to her. He took off his white shirt and wrapped it roughly around her hurt wrist. He heard her cry out in pain, meaning he was doing it right. She blinked groggily up at him, slipping in and out of consciousness.
"Silly Sam, my sweet Sam," he murmured, fighting to stay calm. "Why have you done this?"
That was the last thing Sam heard before it became too much and she passed out.