Diary entry: The creeping dread

The door shut with a finality that straightened Edward's back. Kyle remained outside, giving them room—or distance. Edward wasn't sure which was more necessary.

Sam sat her back to a mountain of pillows, crossed legs under the blanket. She looked nearly well. No pale illness, no trembling, no restraints or tubes. Her eyes tracked him with unnerving intensity.

"Hey, stranger," she said.

Her voice was the same tight tone it always assumed when she was playing along with him, but behind it was a quietness now—a something guarded. A something watching.

Edward took a few steps further into the room, half-expecting to hear the whir of equipment or the gentle beep of vitals. There was nothing but muffled air from a vent in the ceiling.

"Sam," he said softly. "You called for me."

"I did." She turned her head, eyes never dropping from his. "You came."

There was a contemplative silence between them. Edward looked at her over, not knowing where to start. She did not seem infected. Not like she had been.

"You look… better," he said to her.

Her smile was tight, bordering on apologetic. "I feel worse."

Edward's forehead furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Mean my body's lying to me. I don't ache. I don't sweat. I don't blink unless I make myself think about it. Each breath like it's happening somewhere else." Her eyes met his with unyielding intensity. "But I know that's not true."

He stepped nearer, tension brewing. "You're aware of it?

"I know all, Edward. That's the problem. I shouldn't. I eavesdrop on things I shouldn't. The doctors talk behind doors and I hear every remark, even when I shouldn't. They think I'm stable." She shifted forward, just a fraction. "I'm not."

Edward didn't step out of the doorway. "Then why call me?"

Sam's expression softened, became almost vulnerable. "Because I remember the way you looked at me—when I lost it. You weren't afraid of me."

I was scared," Edward answered truly. "But not of you."

She smiled, pleased. "Then you see."

He swallowed hard. "See what?"

"Because we are at the threshold. You know that, don't you?" Her voice dropped into something more serious. "Like you've been unzipped down the middle and sewn back up with thread stolen from another book's pages."

Edward did not answer, but his lack of answer was a plea.

Sam sat back among the pillows, eyes drifting up to the ceiling. "When I was first infected, it was drowning from the inside out. And then. floating. Now I just feel like I'm being watched. Even when I'm alone."

Edward's heart increased in tempo. He was being watched, too. From the inside.

"I haven't altered," he said warily. "Not like that."

Sam looked at him, a tiny smile on her lips. "You will. You're just joining late to the party."

A shiver ran up Edward's neck.

"I know what you have in you," she said, her voice hard. "It's not what I have in me. But it's the same kind of wrong."

Edward looked away from the ground. His fingers cramped. The Shadow Man shifted patiently—no words, but a moment's concentration.

"And when the changing is done?" Edward asked.

"I don't think it ever stops," Sam said. "I think we adapt. Or we break."

Her eyes remained on him, and for the first time, Edward noticed how still she was. Not tense—controlled. As if every movement was intentional, not reflex.

"I didn't ask for this," Edward growled.

"Neither did I," she said. "But it doesn't hear what we want. It just… grows."

A gentle knock at the door.

Kyle's voice drifted in, muffled: "Edward, I need a word when you're done."

Sam's eyes flicked toward the door, back to him.

"You have to go. He's going to say something ugly."

Edward hesitated. "How do you know?"

Sam just smiled, that same little smug smile.

"I hear things. You remember?"

He rose to go, reluctant but burdened with questions. Her eyes followed him to the door.

"Edward," she said as his hand closed over the handle.

He turned back to her.

"Just watch yourself when it does," she cautioned. "If it begins to talk to you, don't respond right away. It'll take that for a cue."

He went rigid. His knuckles curled against the doorframe. "What if it has already?"

Sam blinked. For a moment, some shred of the old her flickered behind her eyes.

"Then you're ahead of where I figured."

He stepped out, with the door creaking open a little. Kyle stood there, chest crossed, face set with the air of one who knew too much and wished he didn't. 

"She told you you'd tell me something I didn't want to hear," Edward said, already tired.

Kyle did not flinch. "She's not the only one who's asked to speak with you."