*Sam's P.O.V*
The morning light spills across the kitchen table, casting a warm glow on the plate of eggs and toast smeared with grape jelly in front of me.
The house is unusually quiet, the silence a stark contrast to the cacophony of yesterday's emotions.
Mom and Dad are at work, and Anthony is over at Grandma's, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the remnants of my breakfast.
I push the eggs around my plate, the sound of the fork scraping against the ceramic the only noise in the empty kitchen. I had been hungry, but now my appetite is gone, replaced by a heavy knot in my stomach.
The toast, once appealing, sits untouched, the jelly glistening under the light. I can't help but replay the argument with Eli at the beach over in my mind, his words harsher than I ever would have expected from him.
Each memory, each syllable, feels like a weight pressing down on me.
I take a sip of my orange juice, hoping the cool liquid will wash away the bitterness that lingers from our conversation. It doesn't.
I thought I knew Eli, thought we understood each other, but the sting of his words tells a different story—one where I'm left questioning everything I thought was true.
The hurt is palpable, a physical ache that seems to grow with each passing second. I'm alone, yes, but the loneliness feels deeper now, amplified by the void Eli's harshness has carved in my heart.
And the fact that he looked like he had no remorse, that he felt good about the things he said to me. He's different now.
He's not the Eli Moskowitz that I used to know.
The light filters through the window, casting a soft glow on the kitchen counter where my untouched breakfast sits.
I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, a dam ready to burst. I push the plate away, the clatter loud in the quiet room.
I need to get rid of it, to clear away the reminders of him. I stand up, my movements robotic, and carry the plate to the sink. But my hands are shaking, and the plate slips, crashing into the sink and shattering.
A sharp pain cuts through the numbness as a piece of the broken plate slices into my hand. I watch, detached, as a drop of blood wells up, bright and accusing against my pale skin.
It's as if the physical pain has given permission for everything else to come pouring out. My tears start to fall, heavy and hot, tracing lines down my cheeks.
The cut on my hand throbs with each beat of my heart, a heart that feels like it's been through a shredder. I'm crying in earnest now, the sound foreign to my own ears.
It's all too much—the silence of the house, the broken plate, the blood, the betrayal.
I'm not just crying for the wound on my hand, but for the wound inside, the one that Eli's absence has left raw and stinging.
I put my hand under some water but I hissed at the impact, the torture bringing me another ache.
And just to make things worse, the doorbell goes off.
Are you kidding me? Visitors at this hour of the day isn't what I need right now. My day is already off to a bad start because of my emotional state.
I quickly grabbed a napkin and wrapped it around my hand before going to the front door to see who arrived at my house early in the morning.
Once I was close to the door, I opened it and I gasped at who I saw on the other side.
It was Eli.
Before he could get a word out, I tried to close the door in his face so that I don't have to look into his eyes and look over his outfit that will match whatever he's feeling today.
YOU ARE READING
|Sparks Fly| A Hawk/Sam Fanfiction
Fanfiction"Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile." When he left Cobra Kai, her feelings for him had heightened. This is a secret she has kept to herself, no one else knows about. But she doesn't want to keep the secret forever. She wants to let it all ou...
