I Promise
part 2

I had to sit down. It took a moment for me to realize what he had just told me. "What?" I gasped for air as tears formed in my eyes. "It's…"

"Is there something you're not telling me, Sam? Is this some kind of joke?"

I shook my head, burying my face in my hands. "Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he replied.

"This…this is wrong…People don't…" I said. "Doyle, tell me there's an explanation for this."

"If there is one, I don't have it," he said, looking back into the microscope.

"Oh my…" Suddenly I remembered what else was inside my book bag. I reached inside of it and pulled out the bottle of "medicine." "And this." I held up the bottle. Doyle placed a sample of what was inside it under the microscope. A few seconds later, he turned around, then nodded.

"Oh God!" I buried my face in my hands again. I didn't know what to think, what to do. After wiping away the tears falling down my face, I jumped up as one thing came to mind. "John! I have to go."

"You can't. I'm gonna need a blood sample from you to study. Something is very wrong, Sam," he said. I knew something was wrong with me, and I trusted Doyle, so I agreed.

"You can have the sample. But after that, I'm leaving," I said and sat down again.

I hate hospitals almost as much as I hate needles. As I watched my blood get sucked into the surenge, I thought, I was drinking…that?

Doyle went to put a Band-Aid on my arm, but where he had injected me looked as if he hadn't even touched me.

"That's incredible," he said. I quickly stood.

"I've got to get out of here," I said, picking up my book bag. "I'll be back tomorrow night."

"All right," he said.

When I got home, John wasn't there.

I spent the night lying in bed. My stomach was hurting but I still wasn't hungry. I kept the telephone nearby in case John called, but he didn't.

"Have you found out anything yet?"

Doyle and I were in a room waiting for Dr. Fleming.

"Well…I looked at your blood sample and it was like the blood of a…a corpse," he said.


"Well, I can't think of a better way to say it. Dead blood cells," he said.

walked into the room.

"Hello," she said.

"Sam-Mrs. Evans needs a sonogram," Doyle said.

"Have you had a blood test?" she asked me.

"I haven't gotten the results yet," said Doyle.

"I really need to know, soon," I said.

Twenty minutes later, was slowly moving a small control over my stomach and looking into a monitor. "Doyle." I looked up at him.

"So…" he said. looked at me and smiled.

"Congratulations, ."

The pain. It was becoming unbearable. It took an hour the next night to get dressed without falling to the floor. I felt as if I hadn't eaten in months, but when I looked at or smelt food I cringed and felt my stomach turn. When I forced myself to eat, I couldn't keep anything down-not even water. At nine o'clock, I went to the hospital.

"My baby. It's gonna die," I panicked, holding my stomach as I rocked in the chair.

"No, Sam. It's not," said Doyle. "We'll figure something out."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Sorry. Just trying to be a little optimistic," he said, pouring a red liquid into a measuring cup. He handed the cup to me. "Drink that."

Though the last time I had taken some mysterious red drink with no explanation it had turned out to be blood, I drank it. I had been watching him mix chemicals from the hospital right in front of me, so I trusted that it was something I should drink.

Once some of the salty and bitter liquid was down my throat and the cup was away from my mouth, I jumped up, rushed over to the nearest trash can, and vomited. "It doesn't work," he said as I slid to the floor.

"It hurts so bad," I cried, suffering from almost unbearable pain. It felt like I was starving to death. Every part of me ached. Doyle tried to help me stand.

"Come on, love. Let's get you some water," he said. I couldn't stand and he couldn't lift me.

"No," I said. "I can't."

Doyle knelt down beside me and tried to empathize. He had no idea how much pain I was in or how to help.

"I'm going to get someone," he said.

"No," I grabbed his arm. "Don't."

"But Sam-."

"I want to leave. I need to find John," I said. "Can you take me home?"

"I can't. I have to-."

"Please, Doyle."

"All right. Just give me a minute to check out."

It stared back at me. I felt my stomach growl violently. The cold freezer air blew into my face. I reached into it and pulled out the pack of steaks from the butcher shop. I set the pack on the kitchen counter and opened the plastic. The blood from the steaks gathered into a small puddle at the lower left side of the white styrophone tray. My stomach growled louder and I felt an overwhelming hunger take over me.

I smelt it. It had the greatest smell I had ever inhaled.

Then I dipped my index finger into the blood and put my finger into my mouth.

The taste was incredible! I smiled as the pain decreased a little bit. I felt a rush from the taste, but I still felt hungry. "No." I shook my head when the thought of pouring the blood on the white tray into my mouth and feeling that rush again came to me. I knew I wouldn't be hungry if I did it.

A weird feeling in my mouth sent me running to the bathroom. I opened my mouth and looked in the mirror.

This isn't real, I thought. My eyeteeth had grown about ¾ an inch longer. I stood there for hours, examining my teeth. "God," I cried. "Help me."

Dear Sam,

I'm sorry I've been gone. Right now I'm in Seattle. I should be home tomorrow. I hope you're all right. Most likely you're not. Drink some more medicine if there is any left. I'll be back soon. I love you.


"I'm sorry but they won't let me leave. I have to perform surgery in five minutes," said Doyle.

"I know," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Bye, Doyle," I said and hung up the phone.

All I could do was lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. It hurt so badly. I felt I was only moments away from dying. "God, help me," I cried. I could barely hear my own voice.

Then something told me I needed to leave. I needed to get out of the apartment, but I didn't try to figure out an answer as to why I felt I had to go, despite my condition. I managed to get out of the bed and put on whatever clothes of mine were closest to me. I put on my leather jacket and staggered out of the apartment.

As I slowly walked down the sidewalk, I couldn't keep my eyes open and I knew if I stopped walking I would fall to the ground.

Then, after a while of walking, I collapsed. I remember just lying there, the side of my face against the cold pavement. Everything went blank.

I felt warmer. Something had been placed over my shoulders and around me. I knew I was still outside, but I no longer lay on the empty sidewalk. My eyes opened and I saw I was in a small alleyway, leaning against a building.

I didn't know whether to get up and keep walking or yell for help. "Help!" I heard the word being yelled but I wasn't sure if it was coming from me or not. I was sure it wasn't me when I heard it again. Whimpering followed the person's second cry. I realized a familiar jacket was around me as I stood. It was John's jacket.

I turned a corner in the alley to the pathway towards the sidewalk. I paused when I saw two figures in the alley. The figures were of two people. One of the people was struggling while the other was holding onto them with their arms.

In the loudest voice I could get out, I said, "Hey!" My presence wasn't acknowledged.

Then the person who had been struggling became like a rag doll and fell to the ground with a low thump.

The second person stood there for a moment then picked up the person with ease. I realized I had no idea where I was and forward was my only escape, which they were blocking. I wanted to run, but the pain came back as it had been when I was walking. I tried to fight it, but I was far too weak and only fell to the ground. The person started toward me with the other in their arms.

"Please, don't hurt me," I pleaded. I knew there was nothing I could do at that point so I tried to prepare myself for death, which I had been waiting for earlier. I couldn't see the person's face at first, but I knew it was a man, and he was holding a shorter woman. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer; unsure of what was about to happen to me. Then I heard a voice say, "Sam."

I looked up and saw him. John was standing over me, the woman in his arms. I realized the woman wasn't moving at all. Then there was that smell. It was like when I opened the pack of meat. The amazingly sweet smell…I knew it was coming from the woman.

"John," I said in a weak voice. My stomach was spinning inside me. I had never felt so hungry in my life. Tears fell down my face as I cried pointlessly. John then lay the woman in front of me and knelt beside her. "It'll be over soon," he said in a comforting tone. As the smell grew stronger, the pain grew with it until once again I had no control over myself and I slumped against the building, my head resting on my shoulder.

I don't really remember what happened after that. I closed my eyes and a few moments later, I felt a warm liquid in my mouth. Its taste was even better than what I tasted from the meat tray. The taste was indescribable and incredible. As I drank, the hunger faded until it was non-existent.

To be continued...