My Sam
Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or any of its characters.
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I awake feeling a little disorientated. I open my eyes slowly, blinking the sleep from them, and realize that I'm on the floor of my room. My TV is on and as I move to turn it off I become aware of the heavy presence in my lap. I look down and am greeted by a petit body and crazy blond hair. Sam. Suddenly, the events of the evening come rushing back.
There was a knock at the door. I opened it to reveal Sam standing there in a baggy pair of jeans and a torn flannel shirt. No shoes, no socks, not even a jacket. My worry of her being too cold was quickly forgotten when I saw her face. There was blood from a cut running down the side of her face and tears in her eyes.
"It happened again," she whispered before her knees gave out and she collapsed forward.
I caught her as she fell and lowered her to the floor. I let her sob for a little while, rocking her back and forth and gently stroking her hair. Looking up at the clock I realized it was ten after midnight.
"Sam, we have to go to my room so we don't wake Spencer," I told her quietly.
She made no attempt to move so I gathered her up in my arms and lifted her into the air. (Yeah, Carly Shay has muscle.) I carried her into my bedroom and sat us both down on the floor against my bed. Using the remote I clicked on the TV just as background noise and resumed my comforting of the girl in my lap until we both fell into a quiet slumber.
And that's how I woke up. The only difference is my hand is now grasped tightly in hers lying on top of her stomach. How and when did her life get this bad? This isn't Sam. Not the Sam that I know. The Sam I know is strong and tough and doesn't take shit from anyone. She's the girl that will come over and eat all the food in your fridge like it was her own. She's the girl that doesn't care what people say about her or what people think about her. She's the girl that is always the strong shoulder to lean on, the one that never cries, and the one with the warmest, most secure hugs. This girl in my lap is not Sam. She is just the shell of who Sam used to be. The real Sam has been shattered by a grown man with heavy fists and no heart. He deserves to burn in hell if you ask me.
I miss that Sam.
I can remember the first time Sam stuck up for me. I was eight and she was nine. We were playing at the park and some older boy called me ugly and pushed me off the swing set. After I told Sam what happened, she marched right up to him, punched him in the eye and shoved him down the slide. Then she smiled triumphantly as he ran crying to his mother.
She's always stuck for me since then.
I can remember the first time I went to Sam's apartment. It was the only time I was ever there. It reeked of alcohol and smoke and was a complete mess, except for Sam's room. If you knew Sam you wouldn't believe me when I told you that her room was completely spotless. Even her bed was made. We sat on the floor and looked at magazines together, gossiping, until her mother came in screaming. I didn't know then and I still don't know now what she was screaming at Sam about, but I do know that Sam has never brought me back there.
That's when I realized why Sam was always at my place.
I can remember the first time Sam told me she loved me. It was in that casual, nonchalant Sam way. We were lying on my couch kinda like we're laying now, me on the bottom and Sam on my stomach. Without even looking away from the television she said, "I love you so much Carly." And I knew it wasn't Sam just being Sam. Somewhere in her voice I heard the sincerity. I knew that it had truly come from the bottom of her heart.
I'm ashamed that I never said 'I love you' back.
I can remember the first time we had a real fight. I don't remember whose fault it was or even why we were fighting in the first place. What I do remember is how bad I felt and how alone I was without her. We didn't talk for a week and I cried every single day until she showed up outside my door and acted like nothing ever happened between us.
If we ever fight that bad again I'm afraid it might just kill me.
I remember the first time Sam showed up at my apartment broken and crying. I asked a million questions before realizing that all she really needed at that point in time was someone to tell her it was gonna be okay. I let her stay at my place and sleep in my bed. In the morning she explained everything to me and made me promise not to tell anyone. I reluctantly promised because I knew I was her only salvation.
I wish to God that I hadn't made that promise.
I remember the first time I kissed Sam. It was completely by accident but somehow it felt right. We were in my room doing homework, well, I was doing homework and Sam was lying across my bed. I turned my head to say something just as she leaned down to do the same and our lips met. Instead of jerking away like I expected she deepened the kiss gently. When we parted, we looked into each others' eyes for a brief moment before we both turned away, pretending nothing had happened.
Neither of us has said a single word about it since it happened, but I secretly hope it happens again.
A stirring in my lap rips me from my memories as Sam moves around. I look down to see her stretching out her back and looking up at me. My eyes met hers and she smiled ever so slightly. It only lasted a single second but it meant everything to me. Because in that short smile and in her glimmering eyes, I saw it. I saw the girl that she used to be. I saw my best friend in the entire world. I saw the girl that I have fallen in love with. And seeing her gave me hope that she isn't entirely gone. It made believe that it's still possible for me to save her.
Because inside, she's still there somewhere.
Inside, she's still Sam.
My Sam.