So as per my usual, I don't finish stories but instead get this new and great idea and just jump into writing it. However, this time I spent a long time plotting out somewhat of a plotline/backstory (Ok, so I only have planning that would last maybe 25k words, but seeing as I've never had a story get that long, I figure that's far enough). Anyways, kinda dark. Character death?
Warning: Includes violence/abuse against women. The author (being me) does not support violence/abuse against women, and in fact condemns it as being very very wrong. Possibility of unwanted sexual interaction (nothing explicit, merely implied) in the future as well. A large warning will be posted if that chapter ever comes up. You have been warned.
"You're a failure, no one else could possibly like you, let alone love you."
"Your 'friends' don't give a shit about you. It's me. It's always been me."
"You stepsister hates you… she's just playing the good girl."
Sam struggled out of her car in a haze, his words playing through her mind. Her leg throbbed, her stomach ached, every breathe cut into her as her rib cage moved in and out. But she was free, and was almost to her new home.
She left her bag in the trunk, not wanting to carry it. Her arms were heavy enough as is. She started the walk up the sidewalk towards Brooke's house, not going quickly but it was pretty much as quick as she could go. The stairs were hell. She could barely bend her left knee it was so busted up. She winced as the memory of the baseball bat came back to her.
"I was… I am still… a coward," she thought to herself. "Why am I even trying? He was right all along, she'll see me for what I really am and be gone instantly."
The haze cleared from her mind for a moment after she reached the top of the stairs, and she glanced around. Cold fear suddenly latched at her throat when she saw a familiar car.
"No…" she whispered softly. "No no no." Sam quickly reached for the handle, but noticed the door was in fact slightly ajar. She opened it quickly, slipping in.
The house was silent for a moment, as Sam stood there trying to figure out what to do.
"Garbage. That's all you are."
A scream of pain made up her mind. The voice, clearly in distress, floated towards her painfully. "Please… don't. Don't hurt her anymore. Do what you want to me. Just don't touch her."
Brooke! What was she saying? Is she stupid? No!
Pain forgotten, Sam moved quickly into the house. What was Brooke thinking, Sam wasn't worth risking herself for!
She turned into the family room, and saw Brooke on the ground, curled in the fetal position. Blood was pouring from a cut on her forehead onto her beautiful face, and her cheek that Sam could see was bruised up. Her eyes were slightly glazed over, a look Sam knew that she herself had had many times before. Sam couldn't see much else in terms of damage, as her assailant stood over her, his back to Sam. He wound back with his foot, and kicked her hard right in the stomach.
Brooke let out a light 'woof' and a slight moan of pain as the figure pulled back and hit her again. This time she actually cried out and rolled a bit. But her eyes saw Sam and they instantly widened in fear.
Fear for her. But Brooke shouldn't fear for her. Brooke should fear for herself, she's the one of value.
"It's a good thing little Mac shares only half blood with you. Otherwise she'd be destined for failure like you."
"Run," she mouthed silently. But apparently Sam's presence was already recognized, because Brooke received a swift kick to the face, and Brooke collapsed.
Sam's eyes vision turned red. She always thought that was an expression, or at least not literal. But everything turned a dark red shade as she charged him.
She swung out with her arm as hard as she could, and connected solidly on the side of his head. The man staggered slightly, and Sam felt a sense of satisfaction at the blow after all she'd been through, but he threw out his elbow behind him, which only glanced off Sam's ribcage. Still, when your ribs are as battered as Sam's were, that hurt a hell of a lot. Sam would have screamed out in pain, but found that she was already screaming more of a battle cry at him anyways, so nothing more could be added.
She kicked out, catching him in the knee as he was turning around. He staggered again, but still swung out, solidly catching Sam in the cheek. She felt her skin part, and knew she'd have a nasty gash from it.
She stumbled back, barely keeping her feet as he advanced on her. She flicked out her leg again, and caught him by surprise, used to her docile acceptance. He stopped.
"Sam. You shouldn't have done this. Shouldn't have told. Shouldn't have hit me. Now Brookie dear has to pay. As will Mac. It will be seen to."
"Poor tiny Mac, doomed cause of your stupid assed mouth. Wouldn't want that now would you?"
Sam's anger overtook her and she launched herself at him again screaming. "YOU FUCKING TOUCH EITHER OF THEM I'LL KILL YOU!"
She tackled him – or rather tried as he just sort of caught her and threw her down hard into the table beside him. Her head landed first, followed by the rest of her body as the old wooden table gave out under her, collapsing.
She groaned gently, barely conscious as her adrenaline fled her and all the pain came roaring back.
She crawled away a bit, turned and saw he was standing over her, laughing. "You're pathetic," he growled.
He kneeled down in front of Sam as she weakly tried to get away. He reached out and almost playfully slapped her, but it's hard enough that she sees stars and collapses back.
"Leave her alone," a voice jumps in, and Sam recognizes it as Brookes.
"No… Brooke… lea…leave. Run," Sam wheezes out, and the asshole laughs again.
"Yea Brooke. Let Sammy go. We both know you want to."
Brooke quickly snaps back, "Shut up you asshole!"
More deep laughter. "Ooh touchy touchy." He suddenly turns serious. "You know Brooke, after I'm through with Sam, you're going to beg me to kill her. You're going to beg me to kill you." His voice turns more light hearted. "And I'll of course gladly oblige. And then dear sweet Mac. She's what, four now? I'll just snap her neck. Quick… just like that."
Brooke answers by charging at him, but he simply snapped out his fist hard, catching her right in the chest, knocking the air out of her, and the audible crack of several ribs.
He then grabbed her by her hair and slammed her face forcefully into the nearby TV. The screen shattered and glass rained down around her, no doubt cutting her angelic face to pieces. He let Brooke go, and her limp body collapsed to the ground. Sam's heart leapt into her throat.
"Her pretty little face, destroyed all because of you. All on you."
"BROOKE!" Sam rose, suddenly getting her second – well, third she supposed – wind. She made to take a step towards her, but he was there.
His hands tightened around her neck, and she suddenly was struggling to breathe. Her hands clutched at his hands, clawing at them, struggling to pull them away, but finding no purchase.
Sam vainly kicked out at him, catching him right next to his groin. He hissed in pain and then lifted her by her throat, taking 2 steps and slamming her into the wall.
Her vision blanked for a moment completely, but then came back, except with black nibbling at the edges. Her lungs burned, and she knew that her life was leaving her. It should have brought more fear, but it didn't. Just a sort of acceptance that she would be leaving this hell she called life and moving on.
She was growing tired, and she threw her hand one more time at his face. Her arm was heavy, and all she succeeded in doing was smearing some of the blood – her blood, she noted with clinical detachment – onto his face, which he seemed to take a satisfaction in, judging by the smirk on his face.
"The world would be better off without you. But I take pity on you. No one else will. You're mine. Mine until I end this all."
"And so it ends Sammy. So it ends," he said, as if he could read her thoughts.
Her limbs collapsed at her side, as her vision tunneled down to nothing more then his face. And as darkness claimed her, she realized with horror that the last thing she'd ever see before she died was his face.