Blood And Promises Novel by Sabrina Hart Chapter 25

Blood And Promises Novel by Sabrina Hart Chapter 25

Samantha wore a sterile gown and stood outside the glass window, quietly watching the lifeless man inside.

After just over a month apart, he had become emaciated, his cheeks sunken, a shadow of stubble darkening his chin, his entire being exuding a heavy aura of death.

There was not the slightest trace left of the once stern and dignified Richard, who had stood tall and proud like a pine tree.

Humberto stood beside her, his arm loosely encircling her shoulders, offering silent support.

He could feel the stiffness of her body and the subtle tremors running through her.

“If you want to go in and see him, then go,” Humberto’s voice sounded gently in her ear, filled with understanding and acceptance, “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

Samantha’s long lashes quivered slightly, and after a long moment, she nodded lightly.

She changed into a sterile gown, pushed open the heavy door, and walked into the ward where only the ticking of machines could be heard.

Up close, his frail vitality became even more apparent.

His breathing was shallow, the rise and fall of his chest almost imperceptible.

Only the fluctuating lines and numbers on the monitor beside him proved that he was still alive.

Samantha walked to the bedside and looked down at him.

He had lost a lot of weight, and the back of his hand was covered with bruised needle marks from

the IV.

His lips were cracked and peeling, and a nurse carefully moistened them with a water-dipped

cotton swab.

She did not know what to say, nor did she know what she could do.

She simply stood there, watching, her heart in turmoil, as if stuffed with a wad of water-soaked cotton-heavy, damp, and suffocating.

Did she hate him? Did she resent him? It seemed she felt both.

But seeing him lying here in such a state, all those intense emotions became distant and blurred, leaving only a vague, dull ache and a trace of… fear she was unwilling to admit even to herself

She was afraid he might really die just like this.

At that moment, Richard’s brows suddenly furrowed more tightly, his lips moved slightly, and he uttered indistinct syllables.

Samantha instinctively leaned down, moving closer.

…Sammy… don’t go…” His voice was very soft, very unclear, filled with the despair and pleading of a drowning man. “Don’t leave me…”

“I was wrong… trust me… please… trust me just once…” Tears, without warning, slid from the corners of his tightly closed eyes and disappeared into his temples.

“Blood… so much blood… Sammy… does it hurt…” His voice trembled, tinged with sobs, and his hand moved unconsciously under the blanket, as if trying to grasp something. “Let me blow on it… if I blow, it won’t hurt anymore…”

His broken murmurs, mixed with painful sobs, were like a rusty yet still sharp knife, suddenly slicing open the heart Samantha had wrapped in layers of ice.

Those long-buried memories she had tried so hard to forget surged up, carrying with them faded

warmth and heartache.

Without warning, large tears rolled down, falling onto the white sheets and spreading into small, dark patches.

They were scalding, unstoppable.

She did not know how long it took before Samantha finally stopped crying. She wiped the tear stains from her face with her sleeve, took a deep breath, and forced those surging emotions back into the depths of her heart.

She gave Richard one last look, turned around, and prepared to leave.

But suddenly, a burning, weak, and powerless hand reached out from under the blanket and grabbed her wrist tightly!

For someone in a deep coma and gravely injured, the strength of that grip was astonishing, even carrying a hint of desperate trembling.

Samantha’s body stiffened abruptly, and she stopped in her tracks

Three days later

Perhaps it was the burning tears that had fallen on the back of his hand, or perhaps it was a stubborn will deep within him, but against all odds and the doctors’ expectations, Richard miraculously woke up.

He opened his heavy eyelids, and what greeted him was the hospital’s stark white ceiling and the strong smell of disinfectant. Pain radiated from every part of his body, especially his chest, where each breath tore at him.

Then, he saw Samantha sitting on the chair by his bedside.

Richard stared for a long time, doubting whether he was still dreaming or hallucinating.

He dared not move, not even breathe too heavily, afraid to disturb this fragile apparition.

It was not until Samantha seemed to sense something and turned her head.

Their eyes met.

“Sammy…” He tried to prop himself up, but the movement pulled at his wounds, making him groan as cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Yet he did not care, only looked at her urgently, his eyes quickly filling with bloodshot veins, frighteningly red.

“… Can you…” He panted, each word painfully difficult, yet filled with desperate hope. “Can you… give me one more chance?”

“Just once…” He looked at her, his eyes rimmed with red, his voice choked. “I will use all the time I have left to treat you well… with my life… I will never doubt you again, never let you suffer even a little… Sammy, please… please look at me one more time, will you?”