For Better Or Worse

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Zelah woke up to distant mutterings—like somebody was trying to talk as silently as possible. Her eyes were burdened with fatigue but they hurt when she closed them. She was still a lot weak, but it was not as bad.

The pill had worn off, and left the hunger glaring. Using close to all the strength she had, she used her elbows to prop herself up against the bedpost.

“Okay, we'll talk later. Later, man.” He said from the end of the bed that he sat on, his back to her.

Hi..” she croaked, and winced at the sound of her voice. It was barely there, and the remnant was the sound made when a rusty surface was being scraped.

“Drink. It's on the bedside table.” His tone was monotonus, and he still didn't, wouldn't look at her.

She sighed and followed his directions, to meet a glass that's half full with an orange, pasty drink. But what really caught her attention was the food situated on another table beside the bed. The plates were all covered but her stomach tumbled in response to the visual.

“Follow instructions. Drink, Zelah.”

“What is it?” She managed to get out of her throat, while reaching for the glass.

“Just drink it. It'll make you feel better.” He got up and went in the direction of the bathroom.

Left with no choice, Zelah closed her eyes and lifted the glass to her lips. The faint smell of tomato reached her nostrils and she relaxed. She chugged the V8 solution down, and laid back to close her eyes.

Everything was shot to hell. She didn't imagine their reunion to be so tense and him withdrawn. But then again, she acted like she didn't have sense so, it was probably justified.

He was so angry at her, she could feel it. How she was about to crawl out of this hole, she had no idea. Because in the recesses of her mind, she has no idea if they could survive this.

“There's water on the ground next to the bed. Drink,” he exited the bathroom and sat beside her, clasping his hands together.

She just stared at him, her emotions all over the place. Was it selfish to ask for normal Sam right now? Who couldn't stop touching her? Right now, he didn't even want to be near her.


“I don't want water..” she whispered, and cleared her throat weakly. The sound made his eyes to rest on her. Oh no.

His eyes held so much pain, she wanted to cry. He didn't look away from her, and they stared at each other—no words uttered.

Her hand beside her inched towards his, she longed to feel his touch. To be reassured of his love, she wasn't sure it existed anymore.

“Don't..” he said under his breath, and held his head in his hands. Not being able to touch her was a sign of something he wasn't ready for.

“I'm sorry..I really am.” She pleaded with him, but even in her own head, it sounded fruitless. Sorry couldn't cut it.

“You're not. For both our sakes, stop lying.” He raised his voice, and flinched when her fingers rested on his bicep. “Damnit, I said don't touch me. What exactly did you expect??”

“Sam, please—”

“What the hell is your PROBLEM?” He thundered, and she cowered in the sheets—watching him stand to his feet. “Zelah, what is wrong with you? Do you have the slightest inkling of what the word marriage means?? You agreed to be my wife, to never keep secrets! Something happens and you bolt??” He was a his wit's end with her. She was fully aware, and the hot tears behind her eyelids threatened to fall.

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