The silence is thick.
Ivanov stands by the shattered door, his eyes dark with something unreadable. The smile he wore moments ago is gone, replaced by a frown that tugs at the corners of his lips.
"Why, Sam?" His voice is quiet, almost wounded. "Why would you try to leave me?"
Sam's hands clench into fists. His body is weak, his knees barely holding him up, but he forces himself to stay standing. He won't fall for this again.
"Why?" Ivanov asks again, stepping closer. "Haven't I given you everything? Haven't I loved you enough?"
Sam's jaw tightens. "This isn't love, Ivanov!"
A sharp silence follows.
Then, Ivanov exhales, his expression unreadable. "You're saying that now… after everything?"
Sam doesn't respond.
Ivanov's fingers twitch at his sides. "I kept you safe. I gave you my everything. And you—" His voice shakes. "—you still wanted to leave me?"
Sam finally speaks, voice low and firm. "I never belonged to you."
Something in Ivanov snaps.
Before Sam can react, a hand grips his throat.
"You ungrateful little thing," Ivanov growls. "You don't even understand how much I love you! You know what, If... If I can't have you then no one can."
Sam gasps, clawing at Ivanov's wrist, but his body is too weak. His vision blurs as Ivanov shoves him backward—
His head collides with the table.
A sickening crack.
Pain explodes through his skull, blinding, unbearable.
The world tilts, his limbs go limp, and he collapses to the floor.
A warm, sticky wetness spreads beneath his head.
His breathing is shallow.
His body won't move.
Ivanov stands over him, chest rising and falling rapidly, his knuckles white, his face twisted in something between horror and rage. His breaths are uneven, harsh.
And then—
Silence.
His hands loosen at his sides.
The anger drains from his face, replaced by something hollow.
"Sam…?"
Sam doesn't respond.
Ivanov takes a slow step forward. "No… No, no, no…" He kneels beside Sam, his fingers trembling as he brushes blood-matted hair from Sam's face.
"I didn't mean to…" His voice cracks. "I was just trying to—"
He stops.
He looks down at his hands.
They're stained red.
His breathing hitches.
Then—
Darkness.
---
Sam wakes to a soft beeping sound.
His eyes open sluggishly, vision swimming. The ceiling above him is blindingly white, the scent of antiseptic filling his nose.
He's in a hospital.
"Oh—oh my God—Sam!"
A choked sob reaches his ears.
Sam slowly turns his head.
His mother sits beside his bed, clutching his hand tightly. Her eyes are swollen, red-rimmed. Beside her, Mr. Carper stands stiffly, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Mom…?" Sam's voice is hoarse.
"You're awake," she whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks. "It's been weeks since you opened your eyes…"
Weeks?
His head throbs. The weight of exhaustion clings to his limbs, making it impossible to move.
"I should've listened to you…" His mother's voice cracks. "I should've known something was wrong… I—" She covers her mouth, shaking.
Sam swallows, his throat dry. "How…?"
His father looks away. "The police found you."
Sam blinks slowly. "Ivanov…?"
Silence.
His mother grips his hand tighter. "There was no trace of him."
Gone.
Vanished.
Sam exhales shakily, staring at the ceiling.
But even as he lies in the safety of the hospital bed, surrounded by his parents, he can still feel the ghost of a touch on his skin.
He can still hear Ivanov's voice, whispering in the back of his mind.
And worst of all—
He can still smell Ivanov's cologne, lingering in the air.
As if he had never really left.
End of this Series.