Chapter Ninety One

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Sam

"Sam? Rory?" my mam called from the front room. "Yous are home early."

I didn't bother to reply, far too engrossed in my self-loathing to take notice. My feet instinctively pulled me in the direction of the kitchen in search of something to clean my bloody nose with. I ripped off some kitchen roll from its holder and held it against my nose, keeping my back turned as my mother appeared in the doorway.

"Where's Rory?" she inquired.

"I dunna, I don't care either," I muttered, although I didn't believe my words.

"What happened?" she asked as she stepped towards me, grabbing my arm gently in an attempt to spin me around.

"Nowt," I snapped, ripping away from her as I whirled around.

"Jesus, Sam," she gaped as she took note of my bloody nose. "What happened?"

"Me and Dean had a fight," I grumbled.

"You and Dean?" she scoffed in disbelief. "Yer mean to tell me Dean did this to yer?"

"Yes," I huffed in annoyance.

"Ya really must've pissed him off," she frowned as she took the tissue from my hands and began cleaning up my face.

"Sommat like that," I mumbled, wincing as she brushed my nose. "Ow."

"Are ya gan tell us what yer did?" she questioned. Shame washed over me as flashes of Rory's tear-stained face appeared in the forefront of my mind. I was so blinded by my rage that I hurt her. Not intentionally but I had. I had crossed the line, one I vowed not to cross years ago, fully deserving of Dean's punch. "I don't like how quiet you're being, Sam. What happened?"

"I've fucked up, mam," I whispered, gently pushing her away and taking a seat at the table. I buried my head in my hands as I replayed the events of the last few hours in my mind. The anger that flooded me when I saw Marcus with Rory, exacerbated by his constant stream of anecdotes about my girlfriend. I couldn't stop the accusations flying out of my mouth when he casually brought up how exhausted Rory seemed whilst I was in the hospital.

"It's none of yer fuckin' business, mate," I hissed.

"I didn't mean anything bad," he shrugged. "I just think you should take her out or something, spoil her a bit, show her how much you appreciate her. Think she needs it."

"Are yer trying to say I don't appreciate my girlfriend?" I scoffed.

"Not at all, I just-"

"Sounds like ya are," I growled.

I had stormed out not long after that, lost in my rage as I tried desperately not to punch him in the face, scared I would anger my girlfriend. Ironic really. In my farce attempt to keep her happy by not punching Marcus, I ended up hurting her instead.

"It can't be that bad," she muttered as she took a seat across from me.

"I hurt her," I admitted, raising my eyes nervously to gauge her reaction. "I didn't mean to, I swear."

Her face paled. "Hurt her how?" she asked frantically.

"I grabbed her," I murmured. "I was angry and I didn't realise how tight I was holding her. Fuck!"

"Sam, I know you're struggling reet now but there's no excuse," she told me firmly. "I didn't bring yer up like this."

"I know," I sighed.

"Yer know better than to lay your hands on a girl," she scolded me.

"I know!" I exclaimed in frustration as I slammed my hand down on the table. "It's not like I meant to do it!"

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