Isla was patient and kind with him again and Sam felt the ghost of tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He was so unused to such understanding..as much as he worried he was being tolerated like a child, he loved not having to worry about being yelled at for the slightest infraction.
He sat on the edge of the bed and frowned at the question. Did things have to be bad in particular for him to want an end to his condition? He thought from the way he had explained it to her at the gorge she would've understood how horrible it was to live in this way.
"W-well. Nothing has happened, as such...but...I'm tired. Tired of being like this. So...numb to everything and sc-scared of the sun and..." Sam thought of Remi and brought his knees up to hug, his heels resting on the bedframe. "...People don't like it. When you can't feel. Th-they get hurt. Because they don't understand. And I never wanted any of this in the first place."
