Sam.

~~~

As a child, I always hated hospitals. They had this unmistakable, sterile smell that seemed to cling to the air, making me sneeze at least twice every time I walked through their automatic doors. Hospitals meant something had gone wrong, someone I loved had gotten hurt. The thought of them always made my stomach twist into knots.

But as an adult, I understood the importance of modern medicine. I admired the work doctors put in, the endless hours spent trying to heal people, trying to save lives. Still, I never imagined this would be the place I'd wake up in, in the middle of an October day, feeling like I'd been through a war.

My right shoulder was on fire, a throbbing pain that seemed to radiate down my arm. My body felt stiff, as though it had been frozen in place for hours. I tried to sneeze, the urge building deep in my chest, but instead, I focused on the warmth pressing against my left palm. It was soothing, like gentle heat soaking into my skin. I snuffled, but the sensation didn't quite go away, leaving me with an uncomfortable feeling in my nose.

The beeping around me was relentless, a constant, electronic pulse that grated on my nerves. I tried to open my eyes but they felt heavy, like they didn't belong to me. When I finally managed to pry them open, the harsh white lights above blurred into a foggy yellow, making my vision blur. I blinked three times, trying to clear it, but the spotty afterimage remained for a moment longer.

I shifted my gaze to the right. The room was filled with soft movement—people passing by the glass wall, their shadows fleeting. I turned my head slowly, my neck stiff, and there, next to me, was a familiar figure. The top of a black-haired head caught my eye. I felt a flicker of recognition, and before I could register it fully, I carefully pulled my hand from his grasp.

He looked up at the movement, glancing over at the far side of the room. "Jen, she's awake," his voice was steady, a familiar tone that settled somewhere in the back of my mind.

I followed his gaze and found my mother standing at the edge of my bed. Jennifer. She looked as sharp as always, her short hair perfectly styled and her makeup subtly enhancing her features. She took a step toward me, her heels clicking against the floor, their rhythm louder than the steady beeping in my ear.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice softer than usual, tinted with worry. Her black eyebrows furrowed, a sign I knew all too well that she was anxious.

I opened my mouth to respond, but only a dry, raspy sound came out. My throat felt like sandpaper. "What...?" I tried again, my voice scratchy. "What happened?"

Jennifer glanced over at him, her hazel eyes shifting briefly before she turned back to me, studying my face like I was some puzzle she couldn't quite solve. "You don't remember, honey?" she asked gently, her concern growing.

I tried to shake my head, but the effort felt too heavy. I opened my mouth to say "No," but then it hit me all at once like a flash of memory rushing back through a fog.

I remembered the flight from New York to LA, the cab ride from LAX to my apartment. I had come back to Los Angeles to meet with Ray.

Raymond.

Just the thought of his name made my heart skip a beat. My chest tightened, and the sound of the beeping increased, matching the frantic pulse in my ears. I took a shallow breath, trying to steady myself, but the memories kept flooding in.

Scott.

Scott had shown up at my apartment with a gun. There was shouting. He confessed that he loved me. And then... Ray had come to the apartment too. My eyes squeezed shut as the next memory hit me.

He shot me.

I could barely remember anything else as my right arm throbbed, the pain searing through me. I looked at it, seeing the blue fabric splint holding my shoulder in place, and the sensation of it all felt surreal. My other hand rested against my stomach, the warmth still lingering from where his hand had been. I lifted my left hand to my forehead, a sharp pain shooting up my arm as I did. I put it back on the bed, my thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of confusion.

I needed to see him. Where was Ray?

My eyes darted around the room, my gaze landing on the clean white walls, and the light blue accents of the room. The faint smell of antiseptic hung in the air. At the end of the bed, I saw a white plastic door. Just two people stood by my side, but none of them were Ray.

"Where is Ray?" I demanded, my voice thick with emotion as tears began to gather in my eyes. The frustration, the confusion, and the need to see him all collided inside me.

"He's outside, honey," Mom said, motioning toward the glass wall.

I looked in the direction she pointed, but the glass was tinted in a pale blue shade. I couldn't see anything. "Why isn't he here?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"The doctor said only family could be in the room," Jennifer explained softly, her gaze now full of something deeper.

I glanced over at Tom. He had been so quiet since I woke up, his expression unreadable. Dark circles under his green eyes stood out, and the lines on his forehead told me he'd been worried, perhaps for longer than I'd known. He studied me with an intensity that made my chest tighten. The faint stubble on his cheeks hid the dimples I once teased him about. He parted his lips as if he was about to speak, but nothing came out. I stared at him, waiting for him to say something, but I was the one who broke the silence first.

"Raymond is my family, Mom," I said, my voice stronger than I felt as I looked my mother in the eye. Her eyes widened in disbelief, but I couldn't back down now. "I want you to invite him in."

"You're talking nonsense, Samantha," Jennifer snapped, her tone sharp and firm, almost making me flinch.

I saw Tom, out of the corner of my eye, dip his head low, resting it against the white bed sheets. His hand stayed on the mattress beside me, but he was quiet, watching the scene unfold like he had nothing to say.

My mother's white blouse rustled as she inhaled deeply, the sound of her breath almost echoing in the sterile silence. She ran her hand down the front of her navy blue suit, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, a sign of her frustration, or maybe just a way to regain control of herself.

"Mom!" I said, my voice sharper this time, the action making my throat burn, the pain almost too much to bear.

"Alright, alright," Jennifer muttered, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "As you wish, sweetheart." She shook her head, turning her back to me.

I could hear her heels clicking against the marble floor, the sound sharp and decisive, before she opened the glass door. The noise in the hallway suddenly flooded in—quiet chatter, footsteps, distant voices, but then, as Jennifer stepped aside, the noise died down, and I knew someone was coming.

"You can come in now," she called, poking her head around the corner, balancing herself on one leg like she was trying to avoid the chaos in the hall.

I heard the soft squeak of Doc Martens, the sound unmistakable, and then Ray stepped into the room. His messy black hair looked wild like he hadn't bothered to fix it. His brown eyes, usually warm and bright, were nearly black from exhaustion, his face drawn with tension. He paused at the doorway, his right knee twitching involuntarily, almost like he couldn't stand still.

"Raymond," I whispered, my breath catching in my throat as I took in his appearance. My heart pounded in my chest, and my eyes filled with tears. Seeing him, with all the pain I had just woken up to, made everything feel so much more real.

He wore a black-and-white striped T-shirt, but it wasn't clean. There were bloodstains on the left side of the shirt, and I could see a hole where the fabric was torn, the deep red staining the fabric around it.

His black jeans had rips on them, and I could see his bare knee, the skin pale and bruised. He stopped near the side of my bed, glancing at Tom, who lifted his head slightly but didn't move. Ray looked back at me, and as I stretched my left arm toward him, he took my hand, intertwining our fingers.

"How are you feeling, love?" His voice was soft, and low, as he leaned in and kissed my cheek. His lips brushed against my skin, sending a wave of warmth through me, but it only heightened the ache in my chest.

"Kinda shitty," I managed to half-smile, my eyes never leaving his as he pulled back just slightly, his gaze still full of worry.

"Samantha!" My mother's voice snapped, breaking the moment, and I momentarily forgot she was even in the room.

"Can both of you leave?" I asked, my voice pleading as I turned to look at my mother and then Tom. "I want to talk to Ray."

Jennifer sighed loudly, her eyes narrowing, but she didn't argue. "Fine. Come on, Tom. We can go look for Richard and tell him that Samantha woke up."

I wondered where my dad was. Was he nearby? My mother's hurried decision to find him made me suspicious. Tom, however, didn't budge. He stared at Ray for a long moment, his green eyes focused, calculating. He rubbed the back of his neck like he was torn between staying and leaving. Finally, he glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

"Tom," I said softly, my voice laced with desperation.

The chair squeaked loudly as Tom pushed it back. He stood up, and the chair almost hit the windowsill as he backed away, his footsteps quick as he crossed the room. He threw a last look at me through the glass before he disappeared down the hallway. Jennifer followed him, her heels tapping steadily, and I was finally left alone with Ray.

As soon as they were gone, Ray moved to the left side of the bed. He grabbed the chair from the window, dragged it closer, and sat down, claiming the seat that Tom had just vacated. He took my hand again, holding it gently, and kissed the top of my palm, his lips lingering against my skin.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice raw, the words trembling as they left his lips. The emotion in his voice made my chest tighten.

I squeezed his hand, trying to steady myself. "I'm here. Can you tell me what happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse as I searched his eyes, hoping for answers.

Ray lifted his gaze, locking eyes with me. "You don't remember?" he asked softly as if testing me, looking for the answers in my eyes.

"I do, but not everything," I admitted, swallowing hard as I tried to piece the fragments of my memory together. "It's a blur right now." I paused, my mind foggy, but one thing stood out clearly. "Why does my throat feel so painful?"

"They had to intubate you," Ray explained, his fingers tracing slow circles on my hand, the sensation oddly calming. "After surgery, the doctor took the tube out once you were stable."

I nodded, but everything still felt so surreal. I was here, in a hospital bed, with my memory fuzzy, and my life had turned upside down in just one day. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much had happened that I didn't fully understand.

Ray had been with my parents. He'd met Tom. My stomach twisted at the thought of them all in the same room together. They'd been so tense, and the way Tom looked at Ray—there was no mistaking the hostility there. How had that gone? What had they said?

"Ray," I whispered, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Where's Scott?"

His eyes darkened, and I could see the shift in his expression, the way his jaw tightened. He didn't say anything at first, just held my hand a little tighter, and I braced myself for the answer.