Samantha Puckett didn't know what to do.
Carly wasn't home.
The eerie emptiness of the Shay's apartment settled around her and she gripped a throw pillow in her hands, he knuckles whiting with the effort.
Her blonde tendrils hung in messy wisps across her tear stained face, and her usual fiery blue eyes looked tired and weary.
She hadn't been sleeping much lately.
Suddenly the door opened and she nearly jumped in suprise, the throw pillow following swiftly from her hands.
Freddie Benson stood in the doorway, looking unsure if he should enter.
"Where's Carly?"
Sam shrugged just barely. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her hands began to tremble, and in a moment, Freddie was by her side.
"Sam? What's the matter?"
She didn't respond. Her eyes appeared void as they stared at the television in front of her.
Freddie gripped her hand. "Sam, answer me."
And it was enough for Sam to begin crying. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears from spilling, but everything that had been building up inside her burst at the seams.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Why are you sorry?" Freddie was firmly holding her hand now, looking at her with worry and apprehension, his brow creased.
"You don't have to do this. You don't have to care." Her words were barley audible over her sobs. Her shoulders began to tremble with the weight of her distress and Freddie promptly wrapped his arms around them, held her up.
"I will never stop."