A/N: Hey, so I'm actually quite new on the whole iCarly fandom. I just recently started to get really into it, and it's not really something that I would normally enjoy, but it really is hysterical and Sam's character really grabbed me- I felt like there was a lot more there than what was on screen, so i figured I'd attempt to write about it a bit. I know this fic barely scrapes the surface and if there are minor plot inaccuracies or anything like that, I'm sorry, like I said, this is my first try at iCarly. Any suggestions are always welcome, and I thank you greatly for giving me a shot :)

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

Different Kinds of Torture

When it's late at night and she's awake, thinking about her screwed up life, it's almost too much to bear when her thoughts drift to him. She can't be thinking about him. Not now. Not tonight. Not Again.

But that seems to be what her life has come to: sleepless nights, tossing and turning, Tears threatening to spill from her deep blue eyes onto her soft cheeks, like the sea overflowing onto the dunes. But she won't cry. She refuses. She will not allow it.

She hates him so much. Hates him for making her weak; for making her like every other clichéd, over dramatic, loves-truck teenage girl. She hates the irony, she hates the façade she must cling to; the façade that protects her, that makes her stronger. Though as she thinks about it more, is her tough, harsh façade really making her stronger? When she thinks it through, gives it serious thought, she comes to the frightening conclusion that the mask she's created for herself all these years, the one she clings to for dear life lest anyone find out the truth, has actually been making her weaker. This angers her- how dare something so intimate, so close, betray her like this?

But then again…doesn't everything betray her, in time?

Her body betrays her- he doesn't see her. Doesn't find her pretty, doesn't fawn over her the way he sometimes does with other girls, the way he groveled for her best friend. She doesn't think she's beautiful. She doesn't see why anyone would ever think so. When she looks in the mirror she sees herself through a milky, translucent sheen; like a girl waiting to break free onto the other side of the barrier, onto the side of beauty, of clarity and wonder. She wishes she was perfect, like her best friend- so girly, so fragile, so innocent, so…not her. Her skinned knees, cargo pants, and improper manners are everything her best friend is not. Maybe she should change… No, she tried that once.

Her family betrays her- they're all gone. In a figurative sense though, not literally. Her dad left, she has no idea where he is, and truth be told she really doesn't care. From the stories, he wasn't really a man she would care to know anyway. Her mom, well, she's her mom, but only in the completely biological sense of the word. The denotation of the word 'mother' she is, but the connotation, well, that's something different entirely. She's never really cared like other mothers. Never really bothered… Her sister, her twin, the one person who is supposed to be there for her no matter what; who is supposed to be her other half, her one true confidante and friend, is away at boarding school, creating a new life for herself...forgetting. Her sister was always given better opportunities than her. Another betrayal, in her eyes. She feels abandoned. Left in the dust by her sister who prefers to be with other people. Better people. Smart people. People who don't have messed up lives like hers.

She could be one of those people, had she given a damn in school. She knew, deep down that she was smart, and it wasn't for lack of compliments that she gave up completely. She was just sick of competing with people for the top, so she dropped. Fell to the level of apathy where book-smarts were concerned. She always said it was because she was too strong to care about things that didn't matter in life, like algebra, or chemistry, but really it was because she was scared to fail, to have just one more person be disappointed in her. She'd been failing all her life; why not just lower people's expectations a little more- then at least she wouldn't have to deal with the guilt, the condescending comments, the disapproving eyes. So she just…stopped.

She's always tried exceedingly hard not to be just like every other girl in the world. She hates the monotony, the conformity. Her spontaneity, her zeal for life, her complete and utter unpredictability has always made her different. She revels in being unique. She sees herself as stronger for it.

She wishes he would see her as stronger- and not just physically. She grins and boasts whenever someone describes her as physically strong. She knows without a doubt that she could probably beat up just about every kid she knows, and certainly some adults too. She knows that. But deep down, deeper than anything she's ever let surface, deeper even than her need to feel wanted, to be loved by someone, is a small pool of regret for turning out the way she did. No one wants a girl who is strong enough to beat them up. That isn't really good for anything, is it? Who the hell wants to be beat up?

She thinks once again of change, but something tells her not to. She's been down that road. It didn't end where she thought it would.

Her life isn't all bad. She has two best friends who she would give the world for. She loves being around them, they make her laugh like no one else can. But then it's time to go home, and she fears being alone. You'd think she's be used to it by now…she's been alone basically her whole life. But she hates it. She's terrified of being alone because when she's alone, she starts thinking, and then she cannot stop. Her thoughts crash through her mind, the dam of her façade unable to restrain them any longer. And sometimes she cries.

She hates crying almost as much as she hates him. Though, when she thinks about it, the two aren't really altogether separate. Usually her tears have something to do with him, even if it does take a very long chain to connect her thoughts and trace them back to him. But they always end up back to him. Back where she belongs.

She knew from the minute she met him that he was hers. No one else's. Hers. That's why she tortures him so much. With every whack, every punch, every jibe, every snicker, she is that much closer to him. They have one more thing to share together. She likes to think, in the darkest depths of her mind, that every time she hits him, she is reminding him that she is his, that if he were to do anything, try anything, she would be there, admonishing him with some sort of physical abuse. It is her way to always keep her in his mind, without any suspicion or hint of romantic feelings getting in the way. Oh yes, she tortures him well, but that does not by any means mean that he doesn't torture her back.

Only his torture hurts more, because it is a different kind of torture. The kind that is aimed straight for her heart. The kind that bruises and debilitates her aching heart to the point of no return.

And as she finally drifts off to sleep, she decides that the worst kind of torture is wanting what you cannot have.

This realization hurts, but then again, doesn't everything?

A/N: Ok, so there's that! Haha, I really hope you likes it. Sorry if it was a bit depressing, but I feel like Sam hides so much. Anyway, I refrained from using any proper nouns in this story (i.e. specific names, places, etc.) because I feel like maybe if I don't specifically say something like "This is the way Sam feels" or "Sam is terrified to be alone" then maybe the reader (you!) will be able to connect to the story more, put your self in the narrator's (Sam's) shoes, instead of detaching yourself and seeing what Sam is feeling and doing as solely unique to her. Anywayyyy...now that I've blabbered for long enough, it would seriously make my day if you'd leave me a review. But..no pressure :) Thanks for reading! ~AT