chapter one - asylum
[season 7, episode 17]

  ELLE HUGGED HER FRAGILE FRAME TIGHTLY, trying to keep herself warm as her body shivered against the cool air.

  The thin sheets of her bed barely did anything to keep her warm, and they were practically useless.

  As her teeth chattered against the cold air, goosebumps formed along her bare skin.

  The sound of the door to her room being opened filled the air, and she turned around to look at who it was.

  The doctor stepped cautiously into her room, "Hello there, Eloise." The balding man greeted, a tray in his hands.

  "It's Elle." She spoke, the name Eloise reminding her of her mother — who had tried to kill her, and was the reason behind her current stay at the psychiatric ward.

  "My bad, Elle." He corrected, "How are you feeling today?" He asked, placing the tray down on her nightstand.

  "Like I've been hit by a fuckin' truck." She spoke quietly, the lack of sleep now getting to her as her slight southern accent slipped out. She was usually very good with hiding it unless she was tired.

  Another part of why she was in here was due to the fact she was suspected of having a 'psychotic meltdown' or something along the lines of that.

  The doctor let out a humourless chuckle, "Funny." He smiled, but Elle could easily tell it was fake, "Time for your meds."

  The doctor held the cup of medication in one hand, and a glass in the other. She was on some form of anti-psychotics, and anti-depressants.

  She grabbed the cup from his hands, pouring the many pills into her mouth before quickly grabbing the water, not wanting to let the pills dissolve in her mouth — she hated the taste.

  She swallowed the water, swallowing the pills with it.

  "Show me." The doctor stated, knowing that in the past she had tried getting out of taking the pills by not swallowing them.

  She rolled her eyes as she opened her mouth and moved her tongue around to prove that she had swallowed the meds.

"Happy?" She asked the doctor with a roll of her eyes, sick of having to take the medication.

"Happy." The doctor confirmed before collecting the tray from her bedside table.

  Her medication always left her drowsy, so she laid back in her bed for a moment, a sad sigh leaving her lips as the doctor left the room.

  She stared helplessly at the ceiling, wishing she wasn't stuck in such a shitty place.

  Her mind raced with many different what-if scenarios, a habit she had picked up from her anxiety which caused her to overthink massively.

  She subconsciously shifted her arm so she could reach her other forearm, scratching at the skin with her fingernail. She let out a loud gasp as she refocused on reality, feeling the pain of the fresh scratch on her arm.

  Yet another sad sigh escaped from her lips as she continued to stare up at the ceiling, brushing off the pain in her forearm — she was used to it by now.

As she felt her mind start to grow hazy, she decided the best thing for her was a walk around the hospital. It would get her out of her freezing room, and hopefully warm herself up a little.

As she hugged her frail and shivering body, she slowly climbed out of her bed and tried to ignore the way her muscles complained against the movement.

Another sigh left her lips as she pushed her room door open, shivering against the cool breeze that came from it.

She shuffled along the corridor, hugging her thin body as she ran her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to keep her somewhat warm.

Her feet shuffled against the floor, not having the energy to pick her feet up from the floor properly.

She was in her own little world, hugging herself in a desperate attempt to keep herself warm as she suddenly heard a loud, "Hey."

She was immediately pulled from her daydream as her head snapped up to meet the man who had greeted her.

His hair was long, like down to his neck long, and his face was scratched up pretty badly. The worst thing was his eyes, he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and it caused her to feel pity towards him — as she knew what it was like to not be able to sleep.

However, she quickly looked around the hallway, as if to see if he was talking to anyone else before she turned back and pointed at herself with a confused expression on her face.

He let out a small breathless chuckle, something Elle hadn't heard in the entirety of the two years she had stayed at the hospital.

  "Hi?" She spoke, her voice shaking with anxiousness as she quickly shoved her hands deep into her pockets so the man couldn't see her scratched-up arms.

  "What are you doing out here alone?" He asked as he furrowed his eyebrows, his arms crossed over his chest.

  "I'm on a walk, sir." She stuttered awkwardly, her anxiety bubbling in her stomach as she made sure he didn't see her arms — they were her biggest insecurity.

  The man easily picked up on her anxiety, and his face softened slightly upon coming to the realisation.  Her anxiety was obvious in the way she couldn't keep still, she was always fidgeting, avoiding eye contact and stuttering every other word.

  "How old are you?" He questioned quietly, standing up as he took in the girl's appearance.

  "I'm 15, sir." She stammered, biting anxiously at the inside of her lip. She was confused as to why a random man was asking even more random questions when no one even batted an eye in her direction for the entire two years she had stayed in the hospital.

  Sam's eyes softened as he realised how young she actually was, and she was far too young to be admitted to a place like this.

  "Please don't call me sir," He spoke, and Elle looked up at him apologetically, she was about to open her mouth to apologise when he cut in, "My name's Sam."

  Sam took notice of how fragile and breakable she looked, she didn't look healthy at all. The sight of her genuinely worried him.

  She had scratches along her arms, obviously self-inflicted, she had dark circles which showed how little she slept, and she was skinny and shaky, which genuinely concerned him.

  "What's your name, kiddo?" He asked, a small smile on his lips.

  The nickname felt so strange to hear, especially when directed at her, "Elle." She mumbled quietly, her anxiety still gnawing at her insides, her heart pounding against her chest.

  "Elle..." He repeated to himself quietly, "That's a lovely name." He smiled gently at her.

  "Thank you, sir — I mean Sam." She corrected herself, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment as she covered her face with her hands, forgetting momentarily about her scratches.

  Sam let out a small chuckle at her slip-up, finding it adorable how she quickly corrected herself.

  He watched her intently as she shifted on the spot, still very obviously anxious and scared, but he felt his heart clench when he saw the red and irritated scratches along her forearms.

  When she realised, she quickly shoved her hands into her pockets and hid them like she had done before, hoping he wouldn't bring them up.

  Her heart was still pounding, aching in her chest as she watched Sam look at her kindly.

  "Why don't you come in here?" He suggested, making sure to keep his voice gentle and calm in an attempt to help her relax — even the tiniest bit.

  When she didn't make a move to enter his room, he let out a soft chuckle, "I won't bite." He smiled at her, trying to seem as friendly as possible so he wouldn't scare her.

  She hesitated slightly, her mind racing with reasons why he was talking to her. She then shuffled slowly into the room, her hands still deep into her pockets.

  Sam watched with a smile on his face as she slowly walked into his room and stood awkwardly at the desk he was sitting by.

  "How long have you been here for, kiddo?" He asked, using that same nickname again. She couldn't help but almost flinch at the sound of it, it felt strange to be on the receiving end of the nickname.

  Elle threw her shoulders up into a sort of shrug as if it didn't really matter at all, "Two years now, I think."

  The way Sam's expression shifted from a look of concern to a look of sadness caused Elle's gut to twist nauseatingly.

  "You think?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

  "Lost count, I was 13, and I'm 15 now, so I guess." She shrugged, not realising that she had to know how long it was. She just knew it was a long time.

  She watched anxiously as Sam's expression only grew more sad as she mentioned her age when she was first admitted. She was so young, yet she'd been stuck in such a hellhole for two years.

  "Can I ask why you're in here?" He asked, his expression softening as he looked at her, his eyes filled with concern for the young girl in front of him.

  "Long story." She muttered quietly, a slight southern accent slipping through her lips.

  "I have plenty of time." He sent her a small smile as he tried to push her to give her an answer, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

  He could sense the anxiety that still radiated off her. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and she sucked in a deep breath before explaining.

  "Well... my Momma... she..." She trailed off, unable to find the words to explain the horrors that happened that night. Her southern accent remained, and Sam couldn't help but find it adorable.

  "What happened, kiddo?" He asked gently, the concerned and comforting look in his eyes stayed — along with the nickname.

  "She tried to... um..." She trailed off, trying to put the horrific events into words. She took another deep breath before whispering so quietly that Sam couldn't hear, "Burn me alive."

  "Could you repeat that, please?" He asked gently, and he watched with worry as she bit down on the inside of her lip.

  "She tried to burn me alive." She spoke a little louder, yet her voice was barely a whisper as her voice cracked slightly.

  Sam's heart completely dropped as she repeated those words, his face visibly paled as he stared at her for a moment, lost for words.

  He felt his heart break a little when he heard her young, little southern voice break a little as she repeated those harsh words.

  "If you don't mind me asking, why?" He asked, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat.

  "It doesn't matter." She mumbled quietly, not wanting to talk about her trauma any longer.

  Sam frowned slightly when she said it didn't matter, but he knew how hard talking about things could be so he didn't push for an answer — despite how much he wanted one.

  Sam took notice of how her body tensed up once more, and how she anxiously fiddled with her fingers.

  "I wanna ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest with me, okay?" He asked, and Elle quietly nodded as she still stood awkwardly in front of him.

  "Those red marks on your arm..." He trailed off, and Elle felt her heart actually skip a beat at the mention, "... Did you do those?" He asked quietly.

  "I don't see why it matters," Elle muttered in response, tucking her hands deeper into her pockets in a desperate attempt at hiding the scratches a little better.

  Sam wasn't stupid or oblivious, he knew damn well why she was so adamant on hiding her arms from him.

  "Because, kiddo, it ain't good for you." He spoke quietly as he looked up at her, his voice soft as he tried to comfort her whilst making sure she was aware of the dangers.

  "It don't matter to you, it ain't your problem." Elle muttered, growing frustrated at the man sat down in front of her, her accent seemed to slip out a little more the more she grew frustrated, "You ain't my dad, you can't tell me what to do." She snapped, harsher than she expected.

  Sam withdrew slightly, surprised by her sudden angered outburst — she had been so quiet and timid only seconds ago.

  He took a deep breath before he sighed, his concern evident, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, and I know I'm not your dad, but that doesn't mean I can't worry about you."

  "You met me 15 minutes ago," Elle spoke with her eyebrows slightly raised, wishing he didn't go all father mode on her. She liked the fact he cared — but it was so frustrating that he expected her to tell him everything after 15 damn minutes.

  As those words left her mouth, he realised how stupid things looked. Here he was, acting as if he could be some kind of father figure for a 15-year-old he met not even 20 minutes ago.

  It was probably one of the stupidest things he'd ever done — and that's saying something.

  "I don't care about that, I saw you and I know for a fact you aren't doing okay, at all." He explained, his eyes still full of concern as he looked at Elle.

  "I care." She mumbled quietly, her skin prickling uncomfortably under his gaze.

  "You care? About what?" Sam asked softly, but his voice still had a slight tone of ridicule to it.

  "You expect me to open up to you after 15 minutes!" She raised her voice slightly, trying to desperately get her point across.

  Sam paused for a moment as if he were thinking of the right words to say, "Why are you so scared?" He asked, but Elle only let out a loud scoff before turning on her heel and rushing out of the door. Sam knew he had taken it too far, but he was blinded by how much he worried for the young girl that he didn't realise he was probably doing more damage than actual good.

He didn't even know why he cared so damn much, but from the moment he laid his eyes on her in the hallway, he felt the overwhelming urge to protect her from everything.

  Frustration burned through her body as she stormed off to her own room, pushing herself through the door before angrily sitting down on her bed.

  When Sam looked up from the floor, his eyes locked onto Lucifer's, and he could tell by the devilish smirk on his face that he knew what he was about to say.

  "Aw!" The devil teased as he crossed the room, "The way you speak to her, it just brought a tear to my eye." He mocked as he pulled out a tissue from god knows where dramatically dabbing it across his face.

  Sam clenched his jaw as he tried his hardest to ignore Lucifer and his relentless teasing.

  "It's like you think you're her father or something." Lucifer joked, his laughter echoing around Sam's head. The words the devil spoke reminded him of the ones Elle had muttered not even 2 minutes ago, the harsh reminder a stab to his heart.

The brunette let out a frustrated sigh as she looked up at the ceiling, trying to collect the thoughts that uncontrollably raced around her mind. She felt guilty for leaving Sam when he was only trying to help, but he'd put her on the spot and she did the only thing she knew how to do — escape.

After the doctor finally re-entered her room with the evening dosage of her medication, a calm wave of drowsiness washed over her, easing all of the thoughts that were racing through her mind. As the minutes ticked by, she could feel her eyelids growing heavier with each blink, until she eventually drifted off to sleep.

The doctors had upped her sleeping medication, as her previous dosage wasn't enough, and she would lie awake most nights despite how hard she wanted to sleep. She would try, and try, and try everything that the doctors and nurses had recommended, yet nothing worked even if she tried her damn hardest.

  ELLE FOUND HERSELF ONCE AGAIN wandering the halls of the mental hospital aimlessly, her thin blanket draped over her shoulders this time to keep herself somewhat warmer.

  She noticed she was nearing Sam's room, so she hastened her pace so she wouldn't have to interact with him — because it would be awkward.

  She sped past the doorway, in order not to get noticed by him. However, her attempts failed.

  Sam had heard her coming and knew it was her due to the fact her footsteps were light and delicate compared to everyone else's stomping.

  When Sam caught a glimpse of her blanket-covered shoulders and slightly frizzy hair he immediately knew it was her.

  "Elle?" He called out, his voice filled with uncertainty despite knowing fully well it was her who had just sped past.

  He rose to his feet and moved toward the doorway, watching quietly as the girl halted to a stop and hesitantly turned around to face him.

  "Sam, hi." She spoke, sounding almost surprised. In reality, she was surprised, surprised that he'd called her name to start a conversation especially after the awkward ending the previous night.

  "I wanted to apologise for last night, I let my curiosity get the better of me and I shouldn't have." He mumbled softly, reaching behind his neck to scratch at it nervously, anxious for her response.

  Elle didn't say anything, she didn't know what to say. She only threw her shoulders up into a small half-assed shrug, not having the energy to do the full shrug.

  Sam tilted his head with confusion slightly, looking down at the small frail girl now in front of him.

  "Do you..." He hesitated slightly, not knowing how to approach the question he wanted to ask, "Do you forgive me?"

  She nodded her head slowly, "Yeah." She mumbled softly, awkwardly playing with the hem of her blanket which was still draped over her shoulders.

  "How come you're out in the hall?" He asked, wanting to continue the conversation. He hated how she was still too awkward to carry it on herself, but he couldn't blame her, especially not after last night's conversation.

  "I was on my way to the vending machine." She replied, a small smile breaking through her normally grave facade which warmed Sam's heart to see.

  "For?" Sam asked, almost rolling his eyes at her lack of conversation skills.

  "Snacks, duh." She furrowed her eyebrows into a frown, speaking as though it was obvious — which it really was.

  Sam's face slightly screwed up as if he were offended, and he let out an exasperated sigh. A soft giggle escaped Elle's lips which sounded like music to Sam's ears, he didn't know she could laugh, especially after being stuck in a place like this for so long.

  Elle waited for a moment, an idea popping into her mind as she quickly wrapped her small hand around Sam's wrist, dragging him along the hall into the little social area.

  "What are you doing?" Sam asked, stammering slightly from surprise as he was tugged along by the small girl.

  The room was bare, it had only four chairs, a vending machine and a small table with a few jigsaws — which most pieces were missing.

  "I'll get you some snacks," Elle smirked, knowing she was gonna steal them from the vending machine.

  "With what money?" Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion as to how she would even get these snacks if she had no money.

He knew whatever money she had when she arrived, after 2 years it would have undeniably run out by now.

  "I have my ways, old man." Her smirk widened, and she tapped the side of her nose as if to tell him to stop being so nosey.

  Sam just let out a small scoff in response to being called old, rolling his eyes once she turned her back to face the vending machine.

  In her two years of living in the mental hospital, she learned a few tricks. One of them being how to steal from a vending machine.

  Earlier that day, when the vending machine was being restocked, Elle had snuck behind the man on the job and pickpocketed his key.

  She quickly pulled the key from her pocket, which caused Sam to frown, "Where the hell did you get that?" He asked as he pointed to the key.

  Elle shrugged as if it was normal for a 15-year-old to be a pro pick pocketer, "Spend two years in this place, you get good at stealing things." She smirked devilishly at him.

  An impressed chuckle left Sam's mouth as she turned back around, quickly unlocking the plastic screen that protected the snacks.

She moved the plastic screen, exposing the snacks, "What do ya want?" The young thief asked as she turned around to face Sam.

"I'm alright... I—" He started, however, Elle was quick to interject and cut him off.

"I didn't do all this for nothin', what ya want?" She questioned, raising her eyebrow almost challengingly. Her slight southern accent slipped out once again, which Sam couldn't help but chuckle at.

  "Nice accent." He teased, and the brunette girl's cheeks immediately heated up into a bright red colour, "I'll have a KitKat."

  She hurriedly turned around to face the vending machine, internally cringing at the fact she'd accidentally allowed her accent to slip out again in front of Sam.

  She quickly scanned the interior of the machine for a KitKat, then realised it was on one of the higher shelves — one that her 5'3 self would struggle to reach.

  She sighed with frustration, reaching up on her tiptoes with a struggle. She stretched her arm as far as she could towards the shelf, just about grasping the chocolate bar in her hand as her expression changed from a look of frustration to a look of triumph.

  "Ha!" She hummed to herself proudly as she turned around and tossed the KitKat in Sam's general direction.

  Sam let out a small grunt as he just about caught the KitKat from her horrific throw.

He wasn't expecting such a horrific throw, but he chuckled nonetheless, "Nice throw, kiddo." Elle only let out a small, sarcastic laugh in response.

  She then grabbed herself a Capri-Sun — which was her absolute favourite drink in the world, despite being 15, and a small box of Nerds, which she also loved. But not as much as she loved the Capri-Sun.

Sam couldn't help but chuckle softly at the childish choice of snacks, but he came to the sad realisation moments later that she was a child. Of course, she was going to eat childish snacks.

  He felt his heart clench slightly as he realised how young she actually was, and he started to feel protective over her all over again.

  "What's so funny?" She asked him, her eyebrows furrowed and her nose scrunched, slightly revealing a small gap between her front two teeth.

  Sam found that absolutely adorable as he fought the urge to pinch her cheek and 'aww' at her.

  "It's just... a great snack choice." He smiled as his eyes flicked between her face, and the snacks in her hands.

  She offered him a small smile, "I'm aware." She spoke sassily, before dumping her snacks on the closest chair to her.

  She then shut the plastic screen, turning the key in the lock before stuffing it back into her breast pocket. Sam chuckled again, still surprised she'd somehow managed to swipe the key from the person who was stocking it that morning.

  "I still don't understand how you managed to swipe that key." He spoke with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

  "I just did it, it's quite easy." She remarked, grinning slightly. The longer she spent in the mental hospital, the more tricks she learned over time.

The two things she was best at were pickpocketing and keeping a poker face during conversations.

"Quite easy?" Sam repeated, unable to hide the slight shock in his voice, "Damn, kiddo, how many people have you pickpocketed?"

She shrugged, tilted her head and screwed up her face slightly as if she were thinking about it, "A few, I guess." She shrugged gently again, and Sam let out an amused scoff.

"Wow, I'm impressed." He chuckled again, leaning his back against the wall next to the vending machine.

Elle let out a soft giggle at his sort-of compliment, proud of herself for managing to impress Sam with her skills.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Sam spoke up again, "Who did you even pickpocket? The staff?" He asked, a slightly teasing tone to his voice.

"Mostly the staff, yeah." She shrugged, not really knowing why she was telling him all of this. She'd barely even known him a day, "Sometimes other patients, depending on what they got."

As she admitted to pickpocketing both staff and other patients, Sam raised an eyebrow but he couldn't help but let out a small snort of laughter.

He started to unwrap his KitKat as his smirk returned to his lips once again, "And you've never been caught?"

She shook her head, a proud smile etched onto her features, "Nope. Never." She grinned further, and Sam couldn't help himself as he raised his eyebrows further.

"Damn, kid." He shook his head in disbelief, "I'm gonna take a guess, and that little poker face of yours comes in handy with your pickpocketing adventures, huh?"

She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, "Poker face?" She tilted her head, confusion written all over her expression. She didn't know what it meant, as she hadn't ever heard it before — which wasn't exactly surprising as she was only young when she was committed to the hospital.

His face softened slightly as he chuckled, "A poker face basically means you're able to keep your emotions off your face. Poker players do it all the time, so nobody knows what cards they have." He smiled gently at her as he explained, using his hands as he spoke.

"I'm guessing in your case you use it to hide the fact that you've just pickpocketed someone, huh?"

She furrowed her eyebrows as she thought about it momentarily, "Yeah, I guess so." She gave a half-assed shrug.

Sam let out another soft chuckle at her nonchalant response, "You're a pretty good liar, too, kiddo."

Elle's face practically lit up at the compliment, "Ya really think so?" She asked, a wide smile on her face.

Sam grinned, amused by her reaction to his compliment, "Yeah, I do." He confirmed as he let out a light laugh, "You're good at lying, and you're amazing at stealing. You'd make one hell of a criminal if you wanted to."

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she considered it, "I'm not sure if I wanna be a criminal." She giggled, tucking a stray strand of messy hair behind her ear.

Sam chuckled again, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "Smart choice," He teased, "But, hey, if shit hits the fan, the option's always there." He laughed loudly, however it sounded... hollow, and fake.

She furrowed her eyebrows at the sound, concerned for him. As she ran her concerned gaze over him, she noticed how much more tired he had become overnight.

"You're getting worse." She stated quietly, a wave of concern coming over her like a tsunami, "Are you okay?" She questioned, her face proving how concerned she was.

He threw his shoulders up into a small shrug, his hands deep in his pockets awkwardly as he avoided her gaze.

"I'm fine, kiddo. Just tired, that's all." He lied, however, his voice was filled with a slight hint of exhaustion.

She didn't believe him, not in the slightest. The way he kept cautiously looking at the corner of the room, and rubbing at his face and eyes whilst holding back yawns didn't go unnoticed by Elle.

She gave him a small sceptical look, but Sam only silently offered her a small, half-assed shrug.

She soon realised he was silently trying to get her to drop the subject, and she respected that and gave him a small understanding smile.

She then sat down on one of the chairs, her legs hanging over one of the arms of the chair. She stabbed her straw through the Capri-Sun took a small sip and smiled happily.

Elle then opened the small box of Nerds, and she held them out toward Sam with a small smile on her lips, offering him to have some, "Ya want some?" She hadn't noticed the way that her accent had slipped out once more.

Sam couldn't help but smile softly at the very slight southern drawl to her voice, which seemed to slip out occasionally. He nodded his head as he graciously accepted the box of Nerds, "Sure, why not." He spoke as he took a few candies and popped them into his mouth.

Once he'd eaten the few candies he'd popped into his mouth, he spoke quietly, "Y'know, your accent is cute." He spoke, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows, assuming he was making fun of her — like most people usually did when they heard even the slightest little bit of her southern accent. However, she didn't say anything about it. She usually got defensive when people mentioned it, as the people mentioning it were usually making fun of her.

Sam noticed the look on her face and it soon dawned on him why she was frowning at him — she thought he was making fun of her.

"No, no." He spoke quickly, putting his hands out and shaking them, his tone sincere, "I'm not making fun of you, I promise. I actually think it's kinda cute." He spoke, sounding truly genuine.

"I think it suits you." He hummed, a small smile tugging onto his lips again.

Elle frowned as he explained he wasn't making fun of her, not like everyone else did when they heard it, "You think it suits me?" She asked, her frown deepening slightly with confusion, as she scrunched her nose up gently again.

  Sam's smile widened the slightest as he gently nodded his head, "Yeah, I do." He confirmed as he leaned his back against the wall, "It's pretty cute, and it suits you, kiddo." He resisted the urge to just reach out and ruffle her hair, finding the way she scrunched her nose rather endearing.

  Elle tilted her head to the side, still looking puzzled as she looked up at Sam — who was over a foot taller than her, "You think it's cute?" She asked, surprised by his reaction to her accent. Usually, people made fun of her accent and mocked her relentlessly.

  He responded with a quick nod of his head, before he pushed his hair out of his face, "Mhm," he hummed, "It's cute, and there's nothing wrong with having a southern accent." When he noticed how confused she actually seemed, and the surprise in her eyes, he realised she wasn't used to people complimenting her accent. The realisation caused him to feel even more protective over her.

  "Thank you." She spoke, her voice carrying a sense of sincerity and genuine warmth. She no longer felt as insecure whenever she spoke, and she no longer felt the sting of embarrassment whenever her accent made its inevitable appearance when she spoke certain words.

  He could visibly tell that his words had a positive impact on her, and he was pleased about it as he gently replied, "You're welcome kiddo."

  The soft term of endearment no longer felt strange to her ears, as she had grown so used to it in such a short period of time. She liked being called kiddo, especially by Sam, for some unknown reason.

  As Elle opened her mouth to speak, wishing to continue their conversation, she was quietly interrupted by the sound of a soft but deliberate knock to the wall from a nurse. The sound of the soft tap immediately drew the attention of both of the people in the room, their heads quickly turning to face the nurse standing in the doorway.

  "Hi, Sam, Elle." She greeted, nodding her head in their direction as she spoke their name, "Elle, it's time for your medication." She was a very softly-spoken nurse, which meant she was one of Elle's favourite nurses. The old, balding doctor was one of her least favourites, due to the fact he never trusted her with anything.

  Elle slowly rose to her feet, shooting Sam a small apologetic look for leaving so soon, "Bye, Sam." She waved gently, a small smile on her lips.

Sam offered her a larger smile in return, but it still didn't stop the protective feeling he felt in his chest. He knew she was perfectly capable of looking after herself — she'd done it for god knows how long — but he just wanted to look after her, and he didn't know why.

  He watched as she walked away, having a small conversation with the nurse as the nurse led her away.

For some unexplainable reason, from the moment Elle left Sam's side, she couldn't shake the crushing feeling of loneliness that attacked her consciousness.

Whenever she was with him, it seemed easier to laugh and to smile, but she'd only known him for barely even 24 hours and the thought of getting so attached to someone she barely knew, and would most likely leave her made her heart ache.

— FREYA SPEAKS

i know it's only the first chapter but i love them so much 😭

i also wrote this AGES ago, so i hope it's okay 😭 have a good day/night!!! <33