She walked home in the middle of the night; silent tears fell concurrently from her eyes with the sprinkling of the raindrops from the sky, confused where her place in the world was. She was an orphan, she was a rag doll, she was a teenager, and she never felt more alone in her entire life than she did at this moment. Things had been good lately, considerably compared to the shop car that she last considered 'home.' She currently had her own bedroom – with her own bed – and breakfast was served every morning. Everyday common occurrences that were not regulars in the last fifteen years were now present in the young girl's life. She had what she longed for after what seemed like a lifetime of yearning, but she still longed for something more. She thought she had found that something more, it came in the form of a boy named Marcus. But he didn't love her; he just loved shoving her around. She stayed because there was hope at the end of the day that the abuse would turn into love. It was all she wanted; she just didn't know it was closer than she would have ever expected. And that someone held the same aspiration she held.

Sam had been with Brooke for nearly four months now, and the duo had found a compromising pace to run the household. Sam knew the guidelines in which Brooke had established, and for the most part she had kept to her word. They weren't strict, and Sam had to admit that it was reassuring to have somebody care enough to establish something long term. It had always been day by day before this, Brooke left it open for a future. Sam wasn't so sure she had one before Brooke entered her life. She was grateful, but she still held back. It was her scar tissue. When she had been younger there was a couple that she had been completely and utterly attached to, they even said they were going to adopt her. Sam was happy for the first time in her life, and then one day the agency took Sam from that home. Ever since then she wasn't able to trust a situation, no matter how great it appeared. She knew in seconds it could be taken away from her. That was her greatest fear: that Brooke could be taken away.

She gently opened the front door, Brooke had nailed shut her windows months ago. She normally tried to be home at a reasonable time but lately Marcus had been convincing her to stay out past curfew. She always complied with Marcus. Brooke had yet to notice her late arrivals. Sam sure hoped that tonight wasn't the night. There was no way that she could conjure a valid excuse for her tardiness. And if she did reveal her reason, she was sure that Brooke would not allow her out of the house again. Then Marcus wouldn't be happy, and if he wasn't happy, she sure as hell wasn't ever going to be happy. She knew it wasn't love; it was fear. But Sam still held on to the glimpse she thought she saw, even if Marcus blinded her from seeing that it was never there.

Brooke couldn't sleep; there was simply too much contemplation on her never-resting mind. Peyton had informed her that the persona Julian had in the beginning of a relationship was admirable, and forewarned it soon vanished just as quickly. She was afraid to hold onto a connection that had yet been established when the possibility of a future was not guaranteed. She had a 15-year-old girl living in her house, Sam needed stability, hell, Brooke needed it just as much. A relationship could not continue without some hope for a future. Brooke had spent too much time in the past on one-night stands and broken hearts, she wanted something real. She wanted something real for her, and she wanted it for Sam, they both needed it. They both needed something real.

When Sam tried to close the door softly it was to no avail, her hands were wet, and they slipped off the knob. She looked at the door in disbelief as it slammed into the frame. It was a second too long, because as she attempted to run to her room unnoticed, she was spotted by an angry voice, "Sam!"

The voice belonged to Brooke, and as Sam turned around to confront her, the anger in Brooke's voice did not resonate with her face. Brooke's face portrayed concern. No one had ever looked at her like this, not once. Brooke looked at Sam – late for her curfew – and instead of anger for disobeying her, she was concerned. Well Sam would have preferred the anger; this new look was completely shaky grounds for her. "I am so sorry," she thought an apology would aid in the return of Brooke's warranted anger.

It did not return. "Sam," Brooke spoke in a low, almost motherly tone, "what happened?"

What happened? That was not the question she was supposed to be asking. She was supposed to ask 'where had she been?' But not 'what happened?' It meant that she knew, it meant that Brooke knew something was wrong. Sam couldn't tell her that though, she couldn't tell anyone. So she turned on her sarcastic, feigned ungrateful tone, and spoke, "Rain droplets fell from the sky, and I got wet."

Brooke listened to Sam's response, but she did not believe that was the story at all. She was a teenager once, an abandoned teenager at that, and she knew all too well what could be hidden underneath the clothing of a lost cause. What was underneath the clothing, Samantha Walker? "I can see that, Sam. Why were you walking in the rain?"

"I'm 15, I can't drive," she was going to give and give as long as Brooke pestered her.

"Sam, quit the act, it is not about the rain. I can see that something happened. So I am going to ask you again. And you can tell me, or you can lie to my face. Sam, what happened tonight?" She was hoping that Sam took this as an open invitation.

Sam was never one for parties, she wasn't planning on responding to this request, "I was with my friends, it started to rain, and I walked home. That is that story," she looked into Brooke's eyes, and she spoke fabrications. Then she looked away because all of people, Brooke didn't deserve fabrications. Nonetheless, Sam believed that she didn't deserve the weight of someone else's world. Brooke's world was just heavy enough.

"Okay, if that is your story, you are grounded for breaking curfew. One week," she knew that this was not what Sam needed right now, but what else could she do? This whole mother thing was completely foreign to her. All that Brooke knew was that when Sam went out tonight something had happened; she thought keeping her away might be a solution. What she didn't know was that this would simply pile onto the seemingly everlasting problem.

"What? A week for coming home a little bit late?"

"You want to add to that, because I have no problem adding."

"No. This is not fair. No one has ever grounded me before. I could just go and come as I pleased. Why are you doing this to me?" Underneath the tough girl act, she was purely grateful for Brooke. No one had ever done this, but this is what she needed more than anything. Structure, discipline, she needed some direction in her life. And even though she complained now, it was more out of fear than resentment.

"Life is not fair, Sam, as cliché as that may sound. I am sure you know this well enough. And I want you to know that I am not like the other foster parents you have had. We established rules and you broke them, that calls for a grounding. I gave you a chance to defend your actions, and you chose to lie. Actions have consequences. This is the consequence, Sam," Brooke couldn't believe the words slipping from her lips, she sounded authoritative, she sounded like a parent.

"Fine, make my already miserable life even worst," she said walking towards her room.

"Oh, you have not seen miserable yet, my dear," she said into the door that Sam had just slammed in her face. She was doing the right thing, right? She had to be. She preferred Sam to hate her now than to be placed in an unsafe environment later. She had to do it now, so Sam had a better future later. She looked at her watch; it was 2:37 a.m. She had to be up in 4 hours to make Sam breakfast. What kept a 15 year old out that late on a Monday? She didn't know now, but she was going to find out. Unfortunately, not tonight, so she went back into her bedroom hoping her slumber would ensue vigorously.

Breakfast was definitely going to be cereal this morning, Brooke thought as she rolled out of bed after hitting her incessant alarm clock several times. With five minutes until their designated breakfast time, all Brooke could do was brush her teeth and rub her eyes. She looked into the mirror and was startled by her appearance, she felt old, and hell, she looked old. She was only twenty-three years old but there was a lifetime of stress and fear lines permanently etched on her face. She looked away, and headed towards the kitchen in her robe. No Sam, what a surprise, she thought to herself.

After ten minutes, Brooke was trying not to allow her anger to boil. But it did. She knocked on Sam's door, and when this did not even rile Sam, she opened it. No Sam. No Sam? Where could she have gone? Damn it, Sam, she thought, two broken rules in a matter of hours. They were doing considerably well up until this point given all the circumstances of the firstly forced companionship between the two.

Brooke went back into her room and picked up her cell phone. She knew not to call Sam; it would not bode well. So she called the only person that she thought could be of some assistance. She called Haley. After a couple of rings, Brooke became anxious, but somebody picked up. It wasn't Haley though, "Hi, Aunt Brooke."

It was her favorite boy in the entire world, "Good morning, Handsome. Where's your mother?"

"She said she is running late and that I should probably talk to you because if I didn't you would not stop calling until she picked up."

Brooke loved the brute honesty from Jamie; a child can say anything to anyone and not have any second thoughts. When she heard Haley call Jamie's name, Brooke was sure that Haley did not intend for Jamie to repeat her exact words. She had to laugh. "Oh is that true? Well can you tell your mom it is really important, and she is right, I will not stop calling until I speak with her," just for kicks.

Brooke heard Jamie repeat her every word to Haley, and then she was finally able to speak to her, "What's up, Brooke?" knowing that a morning call did not happen often, so it had to be important.

With Haley finally on the phone Brooke was hit with a realization of what she had to admit to Haley. Would it make her sound like a bad parent to notify Haley that she did not know of Sam's whereabouts? Well she had to do something, even if her parenting was not in best form, "Sam did not come out for breakfast."

"Doesn't that happen often?"

"Not in a while. But it wasn't just that she didn't come out, she wasn't there when I opened the door."

"Doesn't this happen a lot too?"

"Again not since the first month. This is not a normal occurrence anymore. But I think it might be because we had a fight last night."

"What was it about, Brooke?"

"She came home at 2:30 last night."

"That definitely merited a fight, Brooke," reassuring her friend which Haley was positive needed it.

"It was more than her tardiness, Haley. There was something wrong; I just couldn't put my finger on it," the concern present in her voice was palpable across the line.

"Well did she tell you?"

"I gave her the chance to tell me or face punishment."

"And she took the punishment?"

"Exactly. I thought I was doing the right thing, but now she is gone, so apparently it was not the best decision."

"Brooke, you were being a parent. She needs a parent; she needs you. Do not feel bad for what you did; it was necessary. You know it, and Sam knows it," now she just needed Brooke to voice this acknowledgement.

"But I don't know where she is right now. Parents know where their children are," not yet reassured that she was a sufficient parent for Sam.

"Where do you think she would go?"

"Well that is why I called actually. I am hoping that Sam just left early to go to school. So I was wondering if once you got there and you spotted her you could give me a call so I would know," already knowing that her friend would comply but she still had to ask.

"Of course I will, Brooke. But speaking of it, I have got to go if I ever want to make it to first period."

"Thanks, Hales. I hope she is there."

"She will be, Brooke. Sam would never be running away from the safest home she has ever been in," it was supportive words that Haley knew that Brooke desired. But it was not a false statement; it was the truth, the necessary truth.

Brooke closed her cell phone and attempted to be presentable for the day. She was not in the mood to present herself to the world today. She just wanted to stay bundled all day, so she was the only recipient of her currently unsightly appearance. But it would be uncharacteristic of her to quit the day before it even started, so she put on her makeup, along with her predetermined face and left the house just hoping for something more.

Sam, in fact, had gone to school early. She knew that Brooke would be livid, and that was her goal. The more anger Brooke accumulated, the less likely she would remember the concern that was embedded her head. It was a goal, but a fear in itself that would lead to Brooke finally letting Sam go. It is no life at all to live in constant fear, but it was the only life she had. It was this, or, well there was no other option for the orphaned girl.