The Aftermath

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Sam's POV

Why did this happen to me?

What have I done to deserve this?

Those are the two questions I've been asking myself for the past hour.

After holding my dad for the last time, I gave him the burial he'd always wanted.

I still remember that conversation like it happened yesterday.

Flashback

Many of my pack members don't know this, but I love to draw. It's something I've been doing since I can remember.

Drawing is my escape from the harsh reality.

When it gets to be too much for me, I grab a pencil and paper and let it flow.

I draw when I'm happy.

I draw when I'm sad.

Drawing is the only way for me to fully express myself when I can't put it into words.

I was in my art studio-room for the third week in a row. After my moms death, this room was the only place where I could find peace.

My dad was starting to get worried about me because I wasn't eating, I wasn't speaking.

I never left the room.

I was sitting on my bed listening to 'Hallelujah' cover by Pentatonix while I continued to draw. It was my mom and I's favorite version of the song.

Just as I was about to drift off into my thoughts, which I've been doing a lot lately, my dad linked me.

Only this time I didn't block him.

I was too weak to do so.

-Princess can you come down to my office please? I haven't seen you in three weeks and I miss you. I don't want you to keep shutting me out. Also this is very important so can you please come down? Please?-

He sounded broken.

I couldn't help but feel guilty.

I'd been shutting everyone out, even my dad since that night.

I found her body and it was just--

There are some things in life that you can't un-see.

I figured I should stop being so unintentionally cruel to my dad and go see him.

-Okay daddy. I'll be right down.-

I felt him sigh from relief.

I really didn't mean to hurt him, I just wanted to be alone.

When I came into the office, my heart sunk.

My dad was so pale.

His hair was all over the place from running his hands through it so many times, and he lost a lot of weight.

He had a vacant look in his eyes.

Even though he was looking out into the horizon, his thoughts were elsewhere.

He looked so disheveled, so -- broken.

It hurt to see him like this.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice me in the room.

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