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He’d scared Samara, and because of that, she could be dead.
Dante Sundry ran his hands through his short brown hair and paced up and down the living room of the house he had bought for Samara. He had chosen it just for her, a beautiful little cabin in the woods where they could be together. The place was small but adorable. It had a porch at the front that ran the width of the building. There was a swing that they could sit on in summer evening, enjoying the breeze off the nearby lake. Inside, there was a large living room with a huge fireplace, which they could sit in front of on cold winter nights, watching the flames dance and listening to the crackling as the logs burned. At the back, there was a cozy kitchen with a large table at the window where they would be able to sit and enjoy meals with the sunlightstreaming over them. There was a bedroom with a king-size canopy bed, a bathroom with a Jacuzzi, and a loft bedroom that the children they would one day have would love.
It would all be so perfect.
And he had blown it.
He should have thought things through more carefully. He should have realized that just turning up when she wasn't expecting him would startle her. She had a lot going on right now with her nephew’s upcoming birthday and one of her best friend’s weddings. He should have known that she wouldn’t be ready to leave just yet.
He should have known.
What was wrong with him?
Dante beat his fists against his head until he felt pain.
If he had killed Samara through his own selfish impatience, then he deserved all the pain in the world.
Why was he so stupid?
He was always so stupid.
It didn't matter how many times he told himself to be sensible, to think things through, to be smart, he never was.
It had always been this way.
Ever since he was a small boy, he had been like this, it was why his parents didn't love him, it was why he never had any friends, it was why he was all alone in the world.
All alone except for Samara.
He lived for her, and he would die for her because without her, he was back to being nothing.
She had to be alive.
She had to be.
She had to.
Otherwise, he would shrivel up and perish.
His Samara was so beautiful, so sweet, so pure, she was an angel. That long, silky, jet-black hair, those huge soulful blueeyes, she was perfection.
One day theywouldbe together.
It was what they both wanted, he knew that her jumping out of the car today had nothing to do with him. It wasn't because she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with him, it was just because he had scared her by insisting that they do things his way. He was going to have to get a handle on that. He never wanted to scare her again.
Next time would be different.
Next time he would make sure she knew that he understood.
Next time he would make sure that she knew that her brother and her friends were important to him too.
Next time he wouldn’t have a gun on him.
That was probably what had scared her the most.
He had only brought it with him in case someone else tried to interfere, someone who didn't understand. He wouldn’t let anyone stand in the way of him and Samara being together.
When he went to get her next time, he wouldn’t take the gun. Instead, he would wait until she was alone, maybe it would have been better if they had met at her house instead of on the street. That way they would have time to talk, for him to properly tell her about this place, and then he knew that she would be happy to go with him.
