Chapter 33- Reuniting
Sunlight filtered through the curtained window, casting soft shadows across the small hospital room. Sam stirred awake, legs still tingling from the trauma she endured. She blinked, disoriented, panic shaking free the cobwebs of sleep. A familiar silhouette sat in the chair beside her, fingers anxiously fidgeting with the fabric of her jeans.
"Hey, you're back," Sam murmured, trying to force a smile but feeling her lip tremble instead. "How long have you been here?"
"Just a few hours." Her mother's voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "We didn't want to leave you alone."
Sam swallowed hard. "Where's Dad?"
"He's parking the car. Said he'd be right back," her mother replied, wiping her eyes. The love wrapped around the words felt foreign, almost too much for Sam's broken heart.
"Is... is everyone okay?" Sam asked, glancing at the door to the hallway, half-expecting to see Scarlett stroll in with her haunting devil-may-care smile.
"They're fine. They didn't know," her mother assured her, but the unspoken lingered in the air.
Sam's gaze fell to the sheets, twisting the fabric between her fingers, the ghost of a shudder rippling through her.
"I tried to escape," she confessed, her voice shaking. "But she..."
"I know," her mother interrupted, reaching out to grip Sam's hand with a warmth that both comforted and suffocated. "The police told us everything. That monster—"
"Don't call her that," Sam interrupted, her voice sharp as glass. "She may be—complicated—but she... she cared, at least at one point."
"Cared?" Her mother's eyes widened, disbelief etching deeper lines on her forehead. "Care? Sam, she mutilated you. She—"
"I know!" Sam exploded, seizing her mother's arm painfully. "But, something... twisted inside of her. She saw everything as love." Her voice fell soft, tinged with exhaustion.
Her mother's face softened momentarily, then hardened again. "You need to focus on your recovery. Not her."
"Recovery," Sam scoffed. "Do you think this will ever feel normal? I've lost everything."
"Not everything," her mother insisted, squeezing her hand tighter. "You still have us. Your father and I—"
With a painful breath, Sam cut her off. "What will you say when people see me? A girl with one leg, who was kept captive like a pet?" Her laugh turned harsh, a bitter sound that echoed in the room. "You won't even recognize me."
The door swung open, revealing her father. He stepped inside, two cups of coffee in hand, beaming until he caught sight of Sam. The grin shattered like stained glass. "Oh, Sam..."
"Dad," Sam said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I'm not the same."
"Hey, you're still you," he reassured her, setting the cups down and rushing to her side. "We'll make sure you're safe. You hear me?"
"Can I go home?" Sam whispered, longing to escape the sterile confines of the hospital and the weight of their pity.
"Soon," her father said. "We need to make sure you're stable. The doctors will want to run more tests."
"Just tell them to hurry." Sam's words dripped with desperation. "I can't stay here. Not like this."
"We're here for you, remember? We won't let you down," her father vowed, determination flickering in his gaze.
They all held hands tightly, a fragile thread woven amid the wreckage.
"Scarlett is gone, Sam," her mother finally broke the silence, a tremor in her voice. "She's locked up. You're safe now."
"It's not that simple," Sam replied, her gaze drifting to the window. "I can still feel her. What if... she comes back?"
Silence blanketed the room, the weight of Sam's fear palpable.
"What if she doesn't?" her father asked, his voice steady, trying to rekindle the warmth.
But Sam didn't respond. Instead, she stared outside as though the horizon might reveal a way back to normal. The world remained still, but inside her, echoes of the darkness roiled, leaving her stranded in a tempest of uncertainty
