The Numbers on Her Wrist

33

A/N Ahhh! So many views, comments, and support! Thanks all! I edited this and added over 1200 words. You're welcome ☺️❤️ Some romance in this scene, and at first Amelia does something a little silly/stupid- but don't worry. She has a plan that you'll see in the next chapter 😌 (: She is smart, but like me she sometimes lets her heart act before her mind thinks; she has a very vicious motivator.

Annnnnnd love takes over this chapter! *fangirling over my own characters* Song is beautiful; perfect for the second half of this chapter <3

The adrenaline has worn off from the confrontation with the Association.

I had practically fought against myself as I had forced my tired, sore body to continue running, sprinting, until I had made way completely through the lobby of the apartment building where Samuel lives, and then into the confines of the elevator that sits at the right side of the reception area; I wanted so badly- so many times- to stop in the middle of the street and just lay my aching body down; but I knew they were close; I knew if I laid down, then more would happen than just an orphan returning home. Unbeknown to Mr. Evans, he had hurt me more than I first realized and this had slowed my pace to a dull run for the entire trip home; if they had pursued for long enough, perhaps they would have caught me.

But now I am here, and I am only meters from safety.

My head spins, making me press one of my hands against the wall to my left as I carry on down the hallway to Samuel's home, and I grunt softly with almost every other step; each movement I make sends a jolt of pain through my left side. Once I reach the entranceway, I immediately lift up an arm to pound on Sam's door, but only after I have tried the handle and found that it is locked.

I find my voice after I clear my throat gently, whispering, "Sam? Sam." There is no response, so I try again. "Sam, please, it's me. It's Amelia."

Fatigue and dehydration consumes my body; it eats away at my strength.

Once more, there is a silence that sinks through the air, and I wait for the moment with my head leaning heavily against the wooden door frame as I feel sticky sweat slowly drip down my spine and temples. I can feel that my breathing is barely deep enough to fill my lungs with an adequate amount of air. "Samuel," I gasp quietly, and I press my hand against my side, trying to staunch the blood that is seeping through the stitches and the bandage that is taped there; I will need him to redo the dressings. "Samuel, please, please, please, come to the door." I say as I knock lightly several more times.

Relief floods through my heart as I see the handle twist and the door is pulled back to reveal Sam's disheveled black hair.

But the kind, goofy smile that he wears on his face as he answers the door instantaneously disappears in the second that he sees me. "Amelia? Oh, what happened, love? Yo- Whoa, easy!" As I stumble forward and into his arms, he catches me deftly and gently with the soreness of the muscles in my legs and arms and torso settling in deep. "Amelia? Amy, what happened?" He questions me smoothly as he swings me into his strong ams, carrying me like I weigh nothing more than a few feathers into the living room, and he lays me on the couch as carefully as he can. He holds the back of my head as he pulls the satchel from over my body and sets it gingerly on the armchair to the right of the sofa.

He holds me up in one arm and drags out an old blanket onto the couch- to ensure that my blood will not stain the fabric of his furniture- and tucks it underneath me as he whispers into my neck. "God, you are bleeding so much..." He wipes his cool fingers across my perspiring face, sending a nice chill down my back. "Hey, look at me." I obey. "What happened?"