Sam's Point of View

*Flashback Nightmare*

"Max…" I said with relief. He had come to comfort me… after all, my mom never did because she was so drunk and clueless, so he was second best as her boyfriend.

He gave no response. All that was there was a hard look in his eyes, full of danger, depth and deceit.

"Max?" I questioned.

"Shut up, Samantha, I know what you did." he spat.

"What?" I asked nervously.

"Don't play dumb with me!" he said, slapping me across the face. "You know what you did, too, you little whore!"

My face suddenly felt burnt from the touch of his hand. Pain throbbed all inside and out my left cheek. He smelled like heavy ginger and alcohol, one of the most sickening smells there was. His meaty hands were clamped in fists with rage.

"Max, what are you talking about?" I inquired shakily.

"You just keep playing your little blonde tricks, making me think your so dumb and innocent, slut!" He slapped me again, harder.

"Get out!" I screamed. "I don't know what I did! I don't know!"

"Slut," he teased, now holding me down on my small twin bed. "Whore, prostitute."

He chanted these as he beat me up hardly, rage burning through his eyes. "Shall I go on?" he asked. "You don't want to keep your customers waiting."

I whimpered softly as my response.

"Quit crying!" he said, slapping the tears away. "If they say your as good as you are then let me have a whack at you!"

What was he talking about? I've never had sex in my life… nor did I plan on it till marriage. I was a full-blood virgin.

"Leave or I'm getting my mom!" I threatened shakily.

"Your mommy don't give a damn about your problems, Samantha." he whispered in my ear drunkenly. "Samantha…"

He kept on chanting my name along with the others he had so kindly given me. "Samantha the whore, Samantha the slut, Samantha who has such a beautiful butt."

He was more than intoxicated, he was psychotic. "Samaaannnttthhhaaaa…"

He began to unbutton my shirt. "Prizes…" he whispered into my chest. "Such full, beautiful prizes."

I tried shoving him away but all he did was keep going. No matter what I said or did, he wouldn't stop… he just kept going, continuing to undress me until his sick and twisted mind was content. He pulled off his own shirt and began to kiss me and touch me in the places that I had never wanted a man such as him to touch.

"Make it stop…" I pleaded silently. "Make it stop…"

But it didn't stop… the horrific reality would never stop… all I could do was lay there, letting him rape me as he chanted my name drunkenly into my ear.

*End of Flashback Nightmare*

I woke up screaming. "Get out! NO! GET OUT!"

"Sam? Sam!" he said, shaking me. "Sam, wake up!"

I refused to open my eyes. "Get out!" I said, beginning to sob. "Please get out…"

"Sam, it's Freddie." he said. "Please wake up."

Freddie? Freddie was here with me? Not Max?

I slowly fluttered my eyes open. Freddie. He lay next to me in his plaid pajama pants and old t-shirt, concern flooding his eyes that were covered by a few strands of his tousled brown hair.

"Sam, it's OK," he said, trying to re-assure me. "It's just me."

Just by looking at him I began to cry. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close.

"Shh," he whispered in my ear. "It was all a nightmare."

I looked up, his face inches from mine. "Why does it keep coming back?" I asked him.

He didn't say anything at first. "I don't know, Sam…"

"It's so scary…" I sobbed. "Why won't it stop haunting me?"

He held me closer as I continued sobbing in fear. My tears rushed into his t-shirt, making blotches all over.

"Why didn't you ever tell Carly?" he asked. "She's your best friend."

"She… doesn't…" I sniffled, letting the sobs subside. "She doesn't understand… she… wants… me… therapy…" I paused. "It doesn't help." I paused again and then began to sob once more. "Please don't leave me… your all I have!"

"I'm here," he said, rubbing my back gently. "I'll never leave you, I promise."

I nodded into his chest and he kissed my hair. "I love you." he whispered, kissing my hair again. "And I'll always protect you."

But as much as I knew he was being honest, even Freddie; my rock, the boy that held the real truth behind my past and present, the boy who knew all my fears and secrets, the only person that understood, and the only one could who could subdue me and calm me from the nightmares I had, couldn't save me from this.

It was a side that only he saw of me; broken, torn, tired, and scared. I always put on a tough façade, never letting anyone see the real me, the tormented me. They all considered me evil, problematic and difficult; when it reality, I was only trying to survive hell.