Dear Sam,

He sat staring at the screen, the cursor blinking in his face, mocking him. He couldn't believe he was doing this, writing a letter to someone who would never read it. His therapist had suggested it, though, so he had taken to his computer and after staring at the screen for an hour, all he'd managed were those two words.

It was exactly 42 days, 6 hours and 52 minutes he'd been without her and the time stretched on slowly, the days blending into each other until finally he gave up trying to remember them. It was all he could seem to focus on, like. The bacon loving princess of Seattle who was now too far away from him, her smile, her laugh, her sometimes-intense-but-generally-beautiful blue eyes. The way, that day, her eyes revealed something he'd never seen in her before. Something he couldn't erase from his memory no matter how hard he tried to forget. The way she looked at him absolutely terrified but still with some level of hope locked in that he would save her. He'd failed her. Some prince charming he was.

He still couldn't sleep with the lights off. It reminded him too much of being stuck in that dark classroom for two hours. Those two hours stretched out endlessly as the teacher sat nervously in the corner wringing her hands and glancing at the door every few seconds. Her students, some of whom were on the verge of hyperventilating, were left to fend for themselves or, if not as panicked as the others, to try to calm down those who had almost stopped breathing altogether. The room was almost silent apart from the sniffles and whispers. The little light that managed to peak its way through the small window in the classroom door landed directly on Sam, who was content with a notebook and pen and acting as if nothing were going on. She looked over at him, smiling, as if she wasn't concerned. Like she was unfazed by the chaos. Even and even as gunshots rang out in the hallway outside the door she continued to smile, keeping him calm and giving him something to focus on besides whether he'd told his mother he loved her and whether he'd ever see her again.

Gunshots continued to sound out in the hallway, each coming closer to where they sat holding their breath. Sam gave up on her drawing and stared at the door, half interested, half concerned. The reality of the situation was finally catching up with her and for the first time in the five years he'd known her she looked lost. The footsteps grew louder until they stopped outside the door. Sam moved to stand up, prepared to run straight at the gunman, or perhaps out the door, and glanced over at Freddie again. He shook his head and she sat back down slowly on the cold floor. He breathed a sigh of relief that she listened, but it was short lived because only moments later, after failing to kick the door in, the gunman shot the window on the door and reached through to open it.

Suddenly Freddie's focus was gone. A dark mask concealed the gunman's face and a long sleeve shirt and jeans prevented Freddie from seeing any scars or tattoos. No way to identify him later. The gunman stalked around the room, reveling in the screams of his potential victims. He continued around the room, making a game out of it, and then stopped in front of Sam. Freddie's fear not only for himself, but for one of his best friends, paralyzed him and stopped him from trying to help her. The man pointed the gun at her.

"How's it going?" His heart stopped. It was typical of Sam to try to talk to the guy. She never was one to let someone else have the final say in her life, but now was not the time. She looked straight into the mask of the man. He seemed to hesitate, like he didn't know what to make of the blonde girl in front of him.

"Sweet gun." He looked at the gun, then back at Sam. "Is it loaded?"

"Sam—"

The bang echoed off the walls and Sam fell back, her head hitting the cabinet behind her. The gunman stared down at her for a minute before leaving the room and Freddie, having finally regained the ability to move, pushed his way forward and kneeled over Sam, taking in the blood that was staining the front of her favorite shirt. The first thing he thought about was how mad she was going to be when they had to cut it off of her. He put his hands over the wound and begged God to make it stop. His stomach was turning, his eyes burned and he was sure if she didn't speak soon he was going to throw up.

"Sam?"

He looked into her face. Her eyes were still open, the fear that still haunted him staring straight back at him.

"Don't let me die," she whispered, her eyes still locked on his.

"I won't, Sam. I won't."

"Promise me, Freddie." She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in her breath. "You never break a promise."

"I promise," he whispered. "I promise."

"Freddie I'm—" Freddie jumped, the walls of his room coming into focus as he was pulled back to reality. His mother was standing in the doorway, a look of concern etched on her face. "Are you okay Freddie-bear?"

"I'm fine, mom. I just—" He stopped. He hadn't talked to anybody besides his therapist about what happened that day and he wasn't sure he was ready to start now, especially with his mom. "I'm fine." He faked a smile. She frowned at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, mom."

"Okay," she sighed. "I'm headed to the store. Do you need anything?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Okay," she hesitated. "I'll only be gone thirty minutes. If you need me to come home just call me."

"Mom, I'm fine."

"Alright. I love you."

"I love you too, mom."

She turned and walked out of the room.

As soon as he heard the front door close he stood up, knocking the chair over in the process, and hurried across the room. He threw open the top drawer of his dresser and dug around until his hand hit the cool metal of the frame. He pulled it out slowly, unsure of whether he really wanted to see the image that would stare back at him, and then held it up in front of his face. Sam.

He'd hidden all her pictures so he wouldn't have to be reminded of the promise that he broke and the life that was lost because of it. Her face, which used to be the key to every happy memory he held, now had the opposite effect on him. When he saw her in pictures or old iCarly videos his chest tightened and he had to force himself to breathe. He bit back the tears that threatened to escape from his eyes and when he was sure he couldn't handle looking at her anymore without completely losing it he threw the frame down to the floor. The glass inside shattered and he was left staring down at it. He sighed and made his way out to the kitchen to grab the broom.

Silently, he cleaned the glass mess off of the floor and put her picture back in his dresser. His attention turned back to the computer screen and the dark, evil cursor blinking back at him. He went back to it, pulled the chair up from the floor, and started again.

It still haunts me, but not in the way it haunts most people. It's not the blood or the gunshots or the screaming. It's you. It's the way you looked. It's how I felt, knowing that I needed to do something but completely unable to do it. The calmness that surrounded you when you knew what was about to happen. The way you refused to cower or beg for your life. You died the way you lived, on your own terms.

It scares me how vivid it is in my head. Despite the fact that it's been six weeks I still remember it like it was five minutes ago. Sometimes I wonder if you were behind it all, if you intended it to be some sick prank, but then I remember that look on your face and scold myself for even thinking it. Even you wouldn't do something that stupid, especially risking your own life to see it through. That smile was just a cover, a way to make people think you weren't as worried as you were.

Some nights I sneak outside and hang out on the fire escape. It was our spot, Sam, and when I need to get away from it all I go there to remember everything good about you. I need it like air sometimes because when I think of you in that classroom, or that hospital room, I can't breathe . I need those memories of you to keep myself alive and to keep you alive with me.

I remember our first kiss; I really thought you were going to throw me over the edge when I suggested it. I hoped that breaking my arm was the worst you would do. I still laugh about it, about how painfully simple it was and how much of myself went into it. I still can't believe we really thought it was a 'just to get it over with' thing.

I remember when things with Pete didn't work out. You hid out on the fire escape for three days because you didn't want to talk to anybody. I remember hiding Fatcakes out there so you would have something to eat and then finally, on the third night, joining you with a bowl of eggs and dropping them off the side into the street.

I remember how happy you were the night you took first place in that pageant. I never pegged you for a pageant girl, but after watching you dance around that night on the fire escape I saw something in you I'd never seen before. It still makes me smile and sends chills down my spine.

My mom put me in therapy because she says I'm not handling this well. I don't know how she expects me to handle it. You were my best friend. Hell, maybe you were more than that, but I hate to think about it because now I'll never know.

Your funeral was probably the worst part of it all. Carly and Spencer stared straight ahead at your casket like they were made of stone. Neither of them said a word. They weren't even crying. I was, though and I didn't care who saw it. It was so wrong to see you lying there when you should have been with us at the front of the church, mindlessly picking at your nails and asking if it was over every five minutes. I couldn't stop staring at you, waiting for you sit up, smile and tell everyone it was some big joke. But of course that didn't happen and every minute that went by without you doing that was like another blow to the stomach, another tear shed and another moment I was forced to admit you weren't coming back.

Now that I think about it I realize that crying was the last thing you would have let me get away with if you were alive. You'd call me a nub in seven different languages and tell me to 'man up…or at least boy up.'

Your mom was there too. It was the first time I've seen your mom cry and it reminded me that you weren't just Sam Puckett: the girl with the record or the girl from iCarly. You were Sam Puckett: the girl who didn't realize just how loved she was .

It was raining the day of your funeral. Not just a light rain. It was like a full out storm. A Sam Puckett storm. The burial was so short I almost didn't believe it happened and despite my mother trying to get me into the car as quickly as possible I had to stay. I had to wait for them to bury you, Sam. I couldn't leave you like I had to do that day and I swear, when they buried you they buried part of me with you.

God I miss you. Have I said that yet? Maybe not in this letter, but in my mind I say it every day. It's like when you died I lost the ability to live. Nearly every memory from the past five years of my life has you in it and without you here….it just doesn't feel right to keep making them.

I wish I could talk to you one more time and not in a letter. I wish I could tell you everything that I feel for you and have felt for you for the last five years. I wish that I had one more day with you. One more opportunity to joke, to laugh, to smile and to bicker with each other. One more day to goof off on the fire escape and drop eggs into the street. One more day to fight and make up like we always did. Just one more. I'll always wish for that.

I hope you're happy wherever you are, Sam, and I hope you never forget about us down here. We sure as hell aren't going to forget about you.

I love you, Princess Puckett.

Love,

Freddie

He sat staring at the screen, the cursor blinking in his face. With a sigh he moved the mouse to the red x in the corner and lingered over it for a few minutes before clicking on it.

Do you want to save changes to document 1?

He hesitated for a moment and then, with as much will power as he could manage, clicked no and watched it all disappear from the screen.

"Goodbye Sam Puckett."

X

Who's excited for tomorrow?! We are (my niece and I, we're going to watch it together while I babysit).

Want other great reads for today? Check out these:

The Puckett Acquisition by DwynArthur, Until The World Ends by TheWrtrInMe and DwynArthur, Since You've Been Gone by SMAADD4Seddie, Just Kids by AnnieRocket, iCarly The Movie by ExpressionsofAWriter, The Apartment by Pigwiz, The Hollywood Massacre by IAMCAGE, iBurn by butterflylovesicarly, BAAGBoys by KingxLeon21, Contagious Chemistry by PrincessPurplee, Playing House by Heartlines, The Last Time I Felt Like This by moviepal

Happy Reading and Happy iCarly!