Author's Note: Oh wow. Oh wow, wow, wow. I am so incredibly sorry that this chapter took so long. I had the idea, but I didn't know how to express it. I really am sorry.
-runs and hides-
I hope this chapter is okay; I didn't really like it, but hey, you might.
Lovesick
Chapter Nine
Danny walked through the doors of Amity Park Hospital, for what he hoped was, the last time. It had been a month since he had brought a bleeding and nearly unconscious Sam in through the Emergency Room. The nurses had taken her at once and asked no questions, something that he was eternally grateful for. He had been visiting the hospital every day since then, checking up on Sam.
He walked across the tile floor to the counter, where a nurse with long crimson nails was twirling locks of her golden hair around her fingers. She looked up as he neared. "Sam Manson?" she asked, in a voice that quite clearly said she would rather be anywhere then here.
Danny nodded. The nurse sighed and checked the computer beside her. "Room 418. The doctor is just about done, so go on up."
Danny thanked her and walked through the double doors leading into the hallways. A tall doctor with graying hair stepped out of a room, scribbling away madly on his clipboard. Danny glanced inside the room before it shut. A woman was cradling a baby against her chest, fast asleep.
Danny walked down the end of the hallway and up the stairs leading to the second floor. He reached Sam's room. His hand was inches away from the doorknob when it turned and the door swung open. Danny jumped back in surprise.
A short, chubby doctor stepped out of the room. He peered up at Danny with mournful eyes.
"How is she?" Danny asked, eager to finally talk with a doctor.
The short doctor stared at Danny, as if amazed he were speaking to him. He blinked his sad eyes and spoke. "She's fine."
Danny smiled and was about to enter the room when the doctor gripped his arm. He steered Danny to the side.
"Does Miss Manson suffer from...depression?" The doctor asked in a mournful voice.
Danny shook his head. The doctor nodded solemnly and wrote something on his clipboard. The way he was acting, Danny would have thought Sam was dead.
"Have you seen any changes in her behavior lately?" The doctor said, gazing at him sadly.
Danny thought for a minute. He hadn't really noticed anything different about Sam. Of course, besides her sudden sexual appetite, but he kept that to himself. He could feel a blush rise to his cheeks just thinking about it. He shook his head and the doctor nodded gravely, stepping aside to let Danny through.
Danny rushed to Sam's bed. Her frail body was covered with a soft blanket, her right arm wrapped with bandages. She looked up at him, a weak smile appearing on her pale face.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hey Sam," he whispered, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Her eyes suddenly lit up. "Guess what?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows.
"What?" Danny asked, wondering whether she was putting too much weight on her hurt arm.
"I get to go home today."
Danny smiled. "That's great, Sam!"
Sam rolled her eyes. "I meant, I get to go back to FentonWorks today. And," she added, "No more bandages! Apparently they said I've made a full recovery."
Danny grinned. Suddenly, his smile faded. "Sam," he said softly, moving closer to Sam.
"What?" Sam breathed. Danny moved closer. Sam felt her pulse speed up as it always did when Danny got too close.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," Danny murmured, before softly kissing Sam.
-DP-
The moment Sam entered FentonWorks, she saw a large banner with curly gold letters proclaiming, Welcome back, Sam! Then she saw a flurry of movement to her right and suddenly her vision was obscured by red hair.
"Sam!" Jazz cried.
Sam heard Danny chuckle behind her. "Let her breathe, Jazz," he said.
Jazz let go and stepped back, beaming. Then a loud voice in the next room shouted, "Did someone say Sam?"
Mr. Fenton lumbered out of the kitchen, knocking over a vase of dried flowers in his excitement. Mrs. Fenton, who had run in after her husband, caught it and placed it carefully back on the table.
Jack Fenton scooped Sam up as if she were light as a feather and gave her a bone-crushing hug. He set her back down and said, "Why, Sam! You're as pale as a ghost!" He roared with laughter. "Getit? Pale as a ghost?"
Maddie gently pushed Jack away. She held Sam at an arm's length, carefully inspecting her. Her eyes lingered on her right arm, the deep scars just barely beginning to fade.
"How are you feeling, Sam?" Maddie asked gently.
Sam smiled. "Much better!"
Mrs. Fenton smiled and didn't bother her with any more questions, though she kept a close watch on Sam during the rest of the day.
For the next few hours, Sam was showered with hugs and affection. It all felt rather odd to her, who, just two months ago, had been living a life of neglect and cruelty at her grandmother's hands. Finally, when the sun had set and she was too tired to celebrate any more, she headed downstairs to her room.
When she entered she saw that her room had been decorated. Hearts and crepe paper hung from the ceiling and walls, along with posters that said Get well soon! A small stack of treats sat neatly on her nightstand, along with cards signed by the Fenton family.
Overcome with happiness for a moment, Sam leaned back against the door, thinking just how lucky she was to stay with a family like the Fentons, even if it was only temporary. She thought again about her mission, as she had during her entire stay at the hospital. She couldn't bear to think of life without any of them: Danny, who was, not only her boyfriend and lover, but her best friend as well; Jazz, the most understanding of them all, who had grown on Sam; Maddie, who had been like a mother to Sam; Jack, who so easily got excited at the sight of her.
She sighed and strolled into the bathroom. Her eyes immediately fell on a object sparkling on the counter. The knife which she had used to cut herself lay gleaming under the glare of the lights, dry blood coating the tip. A small puddle of blood, also dry, sat in ominous silence next to the blade.
Sam held her breath for a moment. Suddenly, she heard a soft noise; a little cough. She glanced at the mirror over the sink, where the window reflected back at her. Only, someone was perched on top of the windowsill. Someone with graying hair and old, gnarled hands, a twisted smile lining her face. Sam screamed.