Every story has a hero and a villain, but who decides which is which? Sam never felt like a protagonist or antagonist. She assumed she was somewhere in the middle. She always thought of herself as a decent person. As she lay in the hospital bed looking at the white ceiling, she couldn't ignore the feeling that she remained the antagonist of Scott's Shaw story.
She caressed Ray's hair as he breathed deeply. He fell asleep soon after the nurse gave her sedatives. Sam should be asleep as well, but somehow she felt more awake.
Probably because she had to go to the bathroom. She lifted herself on her elbow and slowly sat down. Her head felt dizzy as she lowered her feet to the cold ground. Samantha took her time leaving the bed, feeling thankful the drip was no longer restraining the movements of her right hand.
The wall felt chilly as she moved her hand, looking for the light switch in the bathroom. She walked into the room, stopping in the middle of the space, and letting her eyes adjust to the bright light.
White surroundings shone as she reached the toilet. She finished her business and lifted herself with the help of a metal bar attached to the wall. Sam felt like crawling would be a better option and she wasn't sure why her legs seemed so jiggly. She gripped a white sink and looked at the mirror.
The view wasn't great, as she suspected. Her face appeared puffy, and it had dark circles underneath her blue eyes. Her hair remained loose but seemed greasy. She concluded that she needed a shower as soon as possible.
She glanced around, no toiletries seemed to be visible. Sam realized everything she owned stayed back at the apartment. She felt utterly naked, even with the hospital gown covering all her upper body parts. A chill reached her naked calves as the bathroom door opened.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Ray's eyebrows furrowed.
"I wanted to pee," she said, moving toward the door.
"That is why I stayed, to help," He took her elbow. "Don't look at me like that, I have seen plenty of you." He led her back to the bed. "And we are moving in together, so I don't see what is the big deal."
"Yeah, sure," she said sarcastically. "I want to shower." She sat on the bed.
Ray stood in front of her, lifting her legs on the bed. "I suspected that," he said, putting a white cover on her. "I told my mom what to buy. She and Logan bought everything you will need as soon as they left the hospital." He caressed her hair. "Logan will bring everything in the morning." He traveled to the other side of the bed and sat back in the chair.
"I can wait until morning."
"I will help you with that."
"I'm more than capable of washing myself," she interrupted him.
"Not this time, love." He leaned in closer, observing her face. "You can't move your arm. Let it heal, and just let me help," he pleaded.
"My eyes feel heavy," she mumbled.
"Sleep, love."
The room seemed bright when Sam opened her eyes. She lay on her left side and scanned the view in front of her. Blinds held open, welcoming daylight into the room.
"What time is it?" she asked with a sigh.
He lifted his blue eyes. "Almost nine."
"Where is Ray?" Sam asked as Logan opened his mouth.
"Taking a shower." He glanced at the bathroom door. "How are you feeling?" He put his phone in the front pocket of his pants.
"Decent." Sam shifted to lie on her back. "Wouldn't showering at home feel better?"
"I don't think he is going home." He rested his elbows on his knees. "That is why I brought everything he needs. Mom had to work, otherwise, she would be here too."
"Thank you for coming, and Ray said you will bring me stuff, thanks for that too."
"You are joking, right?" He leaned closer. "You saved my brother's life."
"That is very debatable," Sam said, and Logan grinned. "There is no way of knowing if that is true." She shook her head. "Did the doctor come?"
"The nurse said he would be here around eleven. The guys will come later, to visit you. Ray said your parents will come too, probably soon."
"It's better for you to avoid them," Samantha said jokingly.
"True." He nodded.
"Did they say something bad to you or Nora?" Sam looked at him.
"Define 'bad'." He laughed. "They dismissed Ray as soon as they came. They said little to me or Mom, to be honest."
"Okay," Sam nodded. "I need to get up." She rested on her elbow.
The room door opened and her parents soon came inside. They seemed rested and in a good mood as Jennifer laughed at something Richard said.
"Good morning, darling," Jen said, coming to the bedside, and kissing Sam's forehead. "Ray." She nodded to Logan.
Samantha felt stunned, and a bit lost in the words. Sure, the Lawrence brothers had similarities, but that proved how unobserving her mother was of other people. Logan seemed amused by Jennifer's words, he smirked lowering his head.
"Logan," he said and stood up from the chair. "I was here yesterday, Miss Morris." He grinned. "You met me, then."
"Oh, right? The brother." Jennifer seemed lost.
Richard still stood by the door, observing Logan. "Can you give us a minute with our daughter alone?"
Logan glanced at Sam, and she lightly nodded. "Sure," he said, traveling toward the door. "I will get you a coffee." He smirked at Sam.
"That sounds like heaven," Samantha said with a smile.
"Where is the other one?" Richard asked as Logan closed the door.
Sam closed her eyes for a moment. She felt bad about Scott despite everything and she continued grieving for him. The last thing she needed was this family drama. Samantha's head throbbed from the pain which spread from her shoulder to her neck and reached her temple.
"Ray is taking a shower," she said, opening her eyes.
"Well, now is time to get things from your chest, darling," Jennifer said, removing a strand of loose hair from Sam's forehead. "The press is all over this event."
"The press?" she asked, surprised.
Her parent's faces seemed unappealed and Sam knew that particular look very well. Each time she asked something which was supposed to be obvious, they would get that exact grimace. She felt guilty, they knew about Ray. But not as much as they should, perhaps. Considering her mom kept denying that the relationship between Ray and Sam existed, or at least that it was becoming more serious, Sam felt no need to tell much about Raymond.
"You mean because of Ray?" Sam answered her own question.
Richard took out his phone. Just a beeping sound felt present in the room. "Michael Morris, granddaughter," he read in a firm tone. "Involved in the shooting at her apartment in Los Angeles." He scrolled through his phone. "The shooting resulted in Samantha Morris's injury and an unknown man's death. Sources say the incident involved the vocalist of rising rock band Purple Rain." He furrowed his eyebrows. "So far it's unknown why Raymond Lawrence was at the scene." He lifted his eyes at Sam.
"So it's more because I'm the granddaughter of Michael Morris."
"Should I continue?" Richard moved his hand up, still holding his thumb on the screen.
"Richard," Jen said, looking at him. "Tell us, how did all of this happen?" She shifted her sight, looking at Sam. "We need to make a statement, but you didn't tell us anything about this."
"It all started about six months ago, actually it was a day after I met Ray."
"I told you, this boy is bad news." Richard glanced at Jen.
"No." Sam sat on the bed. "It's not Ray's fault at all, Scott, he shot me and then himself."
"I thought you were friends," Jennifer said, sitting down at the end of the bed.
"We were, Mom." Sam focused on speaking to her. "He was stalking me, as it turns out, his feelings for me were more than a friendship. I found out that, well, Ray and I did. And I hired a detective, and he was supposed to help with this, but," she paused and closed her eyes. "The detective is also dead."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Jennifer rubbed Sam's hand with hers. Unfortunately, her actions didn't comfort Sam.
"Let's see." Sam moved my hand. "All you want to hear or know is when Tom and I will get back together. Which, hear me for the last time, is never going to happen." Jen's eyebrows shot up. "I love Ray and you better accept that." Samantha scanned them both. "So I didn't feel like talking about Scott brought anything good, and I thought I could handle that on my own."
"You clearly couldn't," Richard stated. "Why did he shoot you?" he asked moving closer to the end of the bed.
"I don't know—"
"He was aiming at me," Ray said, standing in the bathroom's doorway.