She wasn't good enough for her dad.
So he left.
She wasn't good enough for her mom.
So she pretended Carly was her daughter. Many nights, she would drunkenly call to Carly, though she was never near.
Carly was better than her. Always had been.
She wasn't good enough for Gibby, even.
He had someone better.
Someone prettier.
She was ugly. That's what her Mamma said.
And if her Mom said it, she best believe it.
Or else.
She wasn't good enough for Freddie Benson, either.
On the night of the dance, she slowly dragged her weak legs to the local smoothie shop. Freddie had constantly reminded her they would be there after the dance, if she needed anything. She shrugged it off, what could she have possibly needed?
But now, with tear stains oner cheeks and swollen lips, she needed comfort. From anyone. Even Freddie. Espesically Freddie. As much as she hated to admit it, she always got butterflies when she was near him. But she pushed him away because she didn't like feeling that way.
Because no one cared for her.
That's what her Mamma said.
Somehow, with the last of her strength, she made her way over to the local smoothie shop, hoping Freddie had still been there.
And he had.
But with Carly.
Much to Sam's dismay, she realized Freddie had gotten the message.
Sam did not want Freddie.
Or so it seemed.
But there he was.
Carly cuddled in his arms.
Safe.
Warm.
Something Sam would never be.
Sam was unwanted.
Sam was unloved.
She wasn't pretty.
She wasn't smart.
She wasn't perfect.
She wasn't Carly.
Those thoughts dawning on her, Samantha Puckett vanished. Never to be seen again.