A/N: This one is going to be a muli-chapter fic. While I'm going against my general practice of writing the whole story first, I'm feeling good about an eventual endgame for this one. It's rated M for mature/violent themes that will be mentioned and alluded to over the course of the next few chapters.
There was also an error in the original mail out. The email was sent saying that it was a Sam-only fic. In fact it will be a Sam/Andy fic. I've changed that it in the settings now, but wanted to make a note of it in case you saw the mail out.
-Prologue-
The package is difficult to open. He grabs a pair of his mother's sewing scissors and carefully runs the blade along the edge. He moves slowly, not wanting to damage the contents inside. The packaging relents and he peels back the brown paper revealing a magic kit. He smiles and turns the box over, getting a closer look at the possibilities that lay inside.
July 15th is turning out to be the best day, he thinks to himself. When his father had said he'd love a good magic trick, he'd instantly begged his mother for the kit. She'd said no.
"We don't have money for games what with your dad back and nobody willing to hire him," she explains, sorrily.
While his mother is filling out an order at the Eaton's catalogue counter a week later, he tries one last ditch effort. "Sarah would probably love it." He knows his older sister is his mother's weakness. "She could be my assistant. I'd make her wear the hat." And that seals the deal. She hands him a 3-ply order form and he prints in his neatest block lettering his name and address. He double checks the product number in the thick catalogue and hands it to the man at the counter.
"You should get it by July 15th," the clerk says, handing him a pink copy of his order. "If not, call that 1-800 number on the bottom there."
He never had to call, the kit arrives as promised, on time. His mother swears it's a first for Canada Post and pats him on the head and tells him she's going to go to Mrs. Havish's house for a while.
"Your dad's in the basement fixing the water heater. Keep an eye on Sarah, will ya?" He agrees, barely lifting his head as he pulls the plastic wrap off of a deck of cards. The door closes and he wonders if he should lock it behind her.
His thoughts are interrupted by his sister. "I'm gonna grab a pop from the basement. Want one?" She asks, pushing a curly dark tendril from her face. She narrows her eyes and leans over him. "Is that a magic kit?" When he nods his head, she throws her head back and laughs. "You're such a nerd sometimes, Sammy."
Sam looks up from the floor where he's sitting and registers briefly that this is the first time he's heard her laugh in over a month. He thinks it's worth the mocking and offers a smile. "I may be a nerd, but I'll be a talented and good looking nerd." He knows it's a weak rebuttal, but at thirteen, it's all he can think of. He shuffles the cards and fans them out. "Pick a card?"
She laughs again and shakes her head, opening the door to the basement. "Still a nerd!"
"Grab me a coke, while you're down there," he says, turning back to the mess of magic games now spread out on the coffee table.
He's examining the three rings and trying to figure out how he'll separate them when he hears the scream. It's a blood curdling scream, one that shakes the bones. Years later the scream will haunt him in his sleep, but now it sends him to his feet and down the basement stairs; his heart in his throat.
What he sees first is a can of coke at Sarah's feet, dark brown liquid spraying against her legs. He stares at her, her hands clasped against her face, fingers shaking. He flips the light on and finally sees what Sarah sees.
He thinks it's an hour later—it certainly feels like an hour— when a police officer leads him into the back of a squad car. It's then that a tall figure leans over and gently lifts Sam's right hand which is fisted and clutching something. The officer nods slowly and taps Sam's knuckle. In a whispered voice, the officer says, "it's okay." It's not, but Sam releases his fist and his mother's sewing scissors drop into the officer's extended hand.
The officer tries to be discreet, he turns his back and moves toward the rear of the car. But Sam sees him put the scissors in an evidence bag and pass it to another officer.
The door to the car is still open and he inches out, looking for his sister. He spots her being led into an ambulance; a female officer has a grip on her arm. Even from a distance he can see the stains of mascara lining her face. He wonders vaguely if they're going to take her to CAM-H or to a real hospital like the last time.
"Poor kid," he hears someone say and he turns. It's his neighbours. He thinks they're talking about Sarah; they've certainly seen their fair share of ambulances where she's concerned. Seconds later, he realizes they mean him when he hears: "The cops say he tried to save him. Cut him down and everything…"
He wants to hear more, wants to remember what he's already forgotten, but an officer leans into the car and says something. He's not sure what, but he nods just the same. The door closes, sealing him in the backseat.
As the squad car pulls out of the driveway, he has two thoughts. The first is that he hates magic tricks and the second is that July 15th is a very bad day.
..To be continued...
