Two days had passed by since my near...incident, and everything had calmed down. I was beginning to feel a little more safer and myself, as days went by. However, I was still reluctant to be on my own, but there was no solution to that.

Daniel had told me that Mr Joan's had put ads up in newspapers and online for another part-time nurse to join. But up till now; they had no luck.

Pushing my random thoughts to aside, I pushed up my glasses, fixing up my desk. It was a mess. Brown folders were all over the place, scraps of paper with writing on it, as well as documents and such. However, I had managed to sort them into two different piles.

Now, I was just waiting for my next patient, which just so happened to be Sam. A smile tugged at my lips as I thought him. But I found my lips turning downwards.

Over the past two days, he had been acting different. He was acting strange, more moody and more angry - I had no idea why. Therapy sessions had become a lot more difficult, he'd always be zoning out and have short answered replies.

It was like we were going back to square one.

I didn't want to go back to there.

And to make things worse, he hadn't touched me. He would greet me with a fake smile, press a gentle kiss against my cheek - not lips. Then, sit down on the lounge chair. He had been acting like this for the past two days, and I was beginning to grow self-conscious.

Did he no longer want me because...because of what nearly happened?

The question sadly lingered inside my mind. And as much as I tried not to think about it, it somehow found a way to play inside my mind.

My thoughts were put to a stop when hearing a loud knock sound on the door. My head shot up, glancing up at the door.

"Come in," I raised my voice, tucking a wet strand of hair, because of my shower, behind my ear. The door turned open and in stepped Marco, followed by Sam. His hood was over his head, a motionless expression playing on his beautiful face. I felt a frown etch onto my lips.

"Thanks," I whispered to Marco, who sent a nod my way. He silently walked out the room, closing the door behind him. I stared at Sam, awaiting for him to come around and place a kiss against my lips - however, he didn't.

He didn't even bother look at me as he walked over to the lounge chair, sitting down on it. Hurt pricked my heart as I tried my hardest not to cry.

What was wrong with him?

Picking myself up from the chair, I made my way over to him. Even with the sound of my heels clinking in the room, he still didn't look up. When I reached him, I tugged his chin up so he was facing me.

The little light that was once in his eyes, had gone. They were flat, dark and...hazel.

This was not my Sam.

"What's wrong with you?" My voice cracked as I cradled his face inside my hands. His bruises had healed slightly, fading away as the days went by, but still there. Much like my own. His eyes narrowed as he peered up at me, and suddenly he wrapped his arms around me, pressing his head into my chest.

A jolt of surprise entered my body, but I didn't hesitate to wrap my arms around him. We were both in each others embrace for a moment, while I tried to figure out why he was acting this way.

I ran a hand through his hooded head, wishing it was his hair.

"Speak to me, Sam." I whispered, hesitantly cradling his face in my hands again. He suddenly pulled me down, so I was sitting side ways in his lap. He sighed, bowing his head as he locked our hands with one another. My heart fluttered from the gesture.

It had only been two days since I had last been this close to him, and I missed it. Greatly.

"My younger half-sister, she's probably eighteen now. She wrote me a letter the other day." He swallowed, gazing up at me. I rubbed a thumb over our interlocked hands.

"Half-sister?" I heard myself ask. His jaw ticked as he nodded, his eyes flickering down to our locked hands for a second.

"My bastard of a father cheated on my mother. He also lied to her and kept secrets." His eyes darkened and the anger he held for his father was evident.

"What kind of secrets?"

"The fact he had a son, my older half-brother, James. He left his wife four years before he started dating my mother. He never once spoke about him having a son with another woman. And then when I was around eight, he cheated on my mother with his wife - who he was still married to." He growled, getting angry. I placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What did the letter say?" I changed the subject, hoping it would calm him down. However, when I mentioned the letter, his entire body tensed.

"My mother's dead." He uttered, flatly. My heart dropped in shock, as I felt my eyes widen. His hazel orbs suddenly grew interested with the ground below, a motionless expression playing on his face. A surge of sympathy washed over my heart for him.

"W-What?" I stuttered. He was frozen for a second, before he nodded. I found myself frowning, running a hand over his cheek.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, softly kissing his plaster on his forehead. He sighed, glancing away. But I could tell by the look on his face, he was holding it in. He wasn't shredding a single tear, that I knew was waiting to escape.

"Sam," I hesitantly called. He didn't move, nor did he reply in sort of form. Instead, his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched. And as a few seconds ticked by, I noticed his eyes water. My heart broke when a tear left his eye.

"S-Sam." I whispered, frowning. And then another left, followed by many more.

"S-She's gone, Belle. S-She's really gone." He lowly said, his voice cracking. He pulled me into him, crying into my chest. I ran a hand over his hooded head, his words hurting my heart.

"S-She left the world knowing that her only son is locked away in a prison. I'm a fucking failure, Belle. I'm a fucking nobody." He hissed, anger dancing its way into his tone. I frowned, keeping quiet. Right now, he just needed to let it all out.

"And...and I'll never forget the one time she came to see me. S-She couldn't even look at me. She just burst into tears, Belle. She left this world - hating me." He choked out. An ache tugged at my heart, feeling tears prick my eyes.

Never had I seen this side of Sam. Seen him so vulnerable, so hurt and in such pain. Not even after his psychical fight with Mark. But I should have known that where he hurt the most, was in his heart. Emotional pain was the biggest killer.

Suddenly, he pulled back and wiped the tears on his face. When he glanced up me with his blood shot hazel eyes, my heart crashed into small pieces. He hurriedly glanced away and muttered something under his breath.

"Belle...I- "

"- No, Sam. I know what you're going to say, so don't finish your sentence." I interrupted. He exhaled, glancing down at his lap. I ran a hand across his face.

"I'm here for you, Sam. Don't ever forget that. I'll never judge you." I truthfully told him. His eyes darted up to me, narrowing to see if I was telling the truth. I softly smiled at him, awaiting his reaction. And then he did, a glint waving across his eyes.

"You're truly precious, Belle." He rasped, his finger trailing across my bottom lip. A flutter went off on my heart. I didn't know how to react to his words, so I leaned down to press my lips against his.

I couldn't believe I just did that. I actually broke down like a little fucking kid. But I couldn't hold it in. I just couldn't believe that my mother; the woman who gave birth to me, the woman who raised and fed me with such a broken life, but kept strong for me - that she...she was gone.

My mother was dead.

Strangely enough, when I let a tear slip away from my eyes, I wasn't scared. I wasn't scared that Belle would look at me differently or that she would judge me. I could be myself around her. So when the tear left, I let the others follow.

"Sa,," I heard Belle call, making me snap out of my thoughts. I peered down at her. She was cuddled up to my side, her head placed on my chest, while she drew imaginary shapes with her finger. I hummed in reply.

Her ocean like blue orbs peered up at me, warm and welcoming. However, I noticed the little hesitance clouding them. I reassuringly rubbed the low of her back, inches away from her plump ass.

"I want to a-ask you something..." She trailed off, glancing away from me.

"Promise...promise you won't get mad?" She whispered. My stomach churned at the sentence, but I hid any discomfort or confusion from her words. Instead, I found myself nodding.

"I promise," I lowly said. She nervously bit down on her plump bottom lip, pushing up her glasses. It was a nervous gesture, something I had picked up about her.

"Why are you here?" Her voice was barely audible, quiet like mouse. But I heard. Heard every word and almost wished I hadn't. My breath hitched inside my throat. The one question I so badly dreaded to hear, finally left her lips.

I wished it hadn't.

"Because...I did something bad." I whispered, stalling from answering the question. My stomach churned as Belle's brows furrowed, her lips curling downwards and into a frown. A questioning glint waved across her eyes.

"What do you mean by 'something bad'? What was it?" She gently asked. I exhaled, glancing away from her as I tightly closed my eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled, trying to sound hard and steady.

"But Sam-"

"- I said no, Belle. Now stop." I muttered, more harshly than I would have liked. I most likely would regret it later.

I suddenly felt movement and then felt Belle straddle my thighs, making my eyes snap open. She peered down at me, a hand reaching out to caress my bruise on my cheek. I had noticed she done that a lot.

"Look into my eyes, Sam." She softly instructed. I hesitantly did as she said, looking into those beautiful eyes of hers. Once again, I felt that tingle of warmth and comfort settle inside my stomach. A small smile twitched onto her lips.

"Do you trust me?"

I nodded my head, my hands being the perverted things they are and gently massaged her thighs.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?" I rasped, my hands trailing higher. She pursed her lips.

"Then why won't you tell me?" Her voice cracked, paining my heart to know she was hurting. And, because of me. I opened my mouth to reply, but let it clamp close.

"Belle, please...drop it." I lowly muttered.

"No, Sam. Don't close me out. I'm trying to understand you, but you're making it a hell lot harder than it could be. All I want to do is know you. I've been wanting to ask you this for such a long time...but I was afraid of this reaction. Don't prove me right, Sam. Prove me wrong. Open up to me." Her words trembled.

My hands paused, no longer rubbing her thighs. Her eyes were watery, tears seconds away from escaping. My throat churned at the thought of Belle crying.

I didn't want to see that.

"I haven't spoken about this to anyone. Not a single soul. But I trust you, Belle. I trust you not to tell anyone else." I found myself saying. She nodded, surprised from me suddenly speaking up.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath. Belle linked our hands together, rubbing them softly.

"Take your time, Sam." She softly said. I let my mind think back to the day my life changed. The day I had dreaded to think about again. The day which lingered at the back of my mind.

The day I became a murder.

My shirt was damp with water. I had just left the gym and taken a refreshing shower, which was much needed. The sun's sharp heat blazed across my face, most definitely going to leave a mark.

Stupid bitch.

I sighed, seeing my old crummy house become less distant as I approached it. It was July 2nd, but my mom still hadn't taken off those cheap Christmas lights. It only attracted more eyes to our old, beaten down house.

Shifting my bag to my other hand, I pushed the small gate and stepped onto the house property. The curtains were surprisingly drawn, making my brows furrow in confusion. It was only five pm.

Pushing my thoughts to aside, I made my way over the front door. It was only then, I heard faint noises. They were muffled, sounding like screams and shouts, but I couldn't tell.

It could be the TV.

I turned the door open, already knowing it was open. When I stepped inside, the noises got louder and I realized it wasn't the TV playing. The voices sounded too familiar. My jaw clenched as I slammed the door behind me, letting my gym bag drop to the ground.

"Let go of me, Jeremy!" I heard my mother yell, her voice sounding so weak and helpless. My hands curled into fists and I wasted no time as I made my way into the living room. The sounds grew louder.

"Shut the fuck up, you whore! You've been cheating on me! Just admit it!" The disgusting man I had the sad fortune to call my father, yelled. He had her hair gripped in his beefy hands, tugging on it. A painful cry left her lips.

"Dad!" I raised my voice. Both their heads turned to face me. A glint waved across his eyes.

"What the fuck do you want?" He snarled, yanking my mother towards him.

"Let go of her," I argued, my voice surprisingly calm. Absentmindedly, I found myself taking a step closer. He arched an amused brow, and let go of her hair. She dropped to the ground, weeping. I saw the tears trailing down her pale, bruised cheeks. A gleam of relief flooded her eyes.

My fists grew larger, anger dancing inside of me. I glared up at my father. His eyes darted down to my fist, an unreadable emotion crossing his eyes. Suddenly, he brought a fist up, letting it connect with my jaw.

I stumbled on spot, feeling another punch to my guts. The metal-like taste of blood sat in my mouth, making me grow nauseous.

"Raise a hand on me, little boy. Do it!" He screamed in my face. Blobs of saliva landed on my face. A groan left my lips as I felt him kick into my ribs, dragging me down to the ground. A dizzy sensation took over me.

"Think you're so tough now. I dare you to hit me!" He yelled, continuing on with his painful actions. I groaned, feeling my hands still curled into fists. My body didn't want to fight, but my brain said otherwise.

"Jeremy! Let go of him!" I heard my mother cry.

"No! You know what, I'm going to end him now. I've had enough of his pointless existence."

Fear tumbled in my stomach. The sound of footsteps echoed in my ears as I lay still, too weak to move. I heard my mother's cries as she followed him, probably gone to beg him to stop. I groaned, shifting on spot as I spat out some blood.

When I heard footsteps sound in my ears, my eyes widened in fear. My vision was hazy, I could only make out my father towering over me something silver in his hand.

"It's time for you to go, son." He taunted and slowly, he bent down, the silver wand in his hand becoming clearer. It was a knife.

I don't know what came over me, but I pushed myself up and shoved it out of his hand. My actions weak and sloppy.

"I don't think so." I choked out. And then I did it. For the first time in ever, I lay a hand on my father. My fist connected with his nose, shock waving across his eyes. For once in my life - I felt powerful. But that didn't last long, I was soon thrown off him.

"I don't know what happened after that, Belle. A-All I remember is my mother staring at the knife in my hand, which I don't remember being there. On the ground was my dead bastard of a father, blood staining his shirt. And my mother...she just looked paralyzed." I told her.

Reluctantly, I looked at her, searching for any judgement in her eyes. However, I only saw interest and confusion.

"What?" I heard her ask.

"I don't know, Belle. The knife was in my hands, I was on the ground. My...my mother just began whispering things to herself, but I can't remember." I explained.

Something crossed her eyes, but she didn't say anything.

"There you have it, Belle. Your prisoner boyfriend - he's a murderer." I breathed. A frown danced onto her lips and she shook her head.

"Y-You're not." He words were shaky.

She could deny it all she wanted.

But at the end of the day - it was the truth.

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