Airplanes

A/N- Like my other story, this story is based off a song. (B.o.B, ft Haley Williams- Airplanes) it's gonna be a bit depressing… The song itself is depressing as well as "romantic…"

M Rating for the… well you'll see… [Sorry… for those who love Sam…I AM REALLY REALLY SORRY!] Trust me… I didn't even want to do this story…

The feelings that it invokes is just… overwhelming…

I'm not being selfish… I'm a Sam lover… its just… I don't like the feelings accompanied with this type of story…

Always gonna be a Seddie though… (bit super naturally)

Don't know if I'm gonna write another chapter…

Depends if the story/readers needs/wants one…

Chapter One?- My Homelife

A hug and a "How was your day?" is what normal people get when they come home. At least, that's what I hear it's like on TV. Parents that care where you were, parents that care about your day, parents that love you. My home was nothing like the normal families on TV. My parents didn't care where I was. My parents didn't hug or kiss me. My parents didn't give a shit about my future. Maybe that's why I always left it. Left it for at least some sense of happiness. One step into the house and you will hear a yell. A yell that doesn't seem like actual words. To the left of the front door, you'd see a room littered with old food and rats and other little rodents. The place was a shit hole for the homeless and homely(A/N- I believe that's considered an insult). To your right, you'd see a kitchen that was never cleaned and rarely used. As I walked down the hall, the yell occurred again. I looked to my left and stared at a picture of me and my sister. I smiled knowing that she was far away from this disgusting place. She was probably making the best of her life. I trudged down the hall towards my room. The yell occurred again, louder, still inaudible. When I reached my bedroom door, I was pushed inside. As fell to the floor with a thud. The woman I called mother stood at my door taking a drag from her cigarette. She stepped inside and grabbed my hair. She pulled me to her room further down the hall, never letting go of my hair. I couldn't get any footing, so she basically dragged me down the hall. When we got to her room, she took the lit cigarette out of her mouth and used my arm as her ashtray. She pushed her cigarette hard into my arm, burning me. I tried not to scream, knowing she would beat me if I did, sadly the pain was unbearable and I let out a squeak. As soon as she heard the squeak, she backslapped me. I let out a tear when my face was away from her. When she finished burning my skin, she threw the cigarette away. Still holding my arm tightly, she began to give me a flurry of backslaps.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER ME WHEN I CALLED FOR YOU!" she asked as she slapped.

I stayed silent, nothing I could say would make her stop slapping me. My excuses meant nothing to her. Even if it were to be true, she'd slap me for the fun of it. At least if she continued now, there would be a reason. Soon he backslaps became punches. I couldn't run, if I did where would I go? The pain couldn't last long. She would do this for a quarter of an hour everyday. I've grown used to it, but still afraid of it. When the fifteen minutes were up, she let go of my arm and began to kick me. The pain can never be described. She would mix up where she would kick. Tonight, it was my legs first. Kicking until bruises appeared. Then, my chest. She repeated for about five minutes. Last, as a special present not for me, she stomped on my head. By the time she was done, I couldn't walk, my breathing was difficult, and I could barely see.

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH!" she yelled as she walked to her bed.

Since my legs were crippled, I crawled out of her room. By the time I was out of her room, I closed her door. I pulled my way up to stand. When I was sort of able to walk, I hobbled to my room. The few yards it takes to get from my room to my mothers was like an eternity. When I touched the door knob of my room, I felt like I had just opened my friend's door and the first thing I saw was the funny looking boy sitting on the couch staring at some television show called 'Celebrities Under Water.' He always had this smile that made the oxygen disappear and that his smile was what you needed to get through a single day. I stared at him so much that his face was soon engraved in my mind. When I opened the door, I looked around my room. On the walls were posters of bands I liked, a poster of a Japanese symbol that meant love. I stared at a special picture of me and my friends. I stagger over to it. I was in the middle, holding on to my friends. I looked at my left holding onto a little girl with brunette hair and a red hair clip. She was wearing a light blue silk short sleeve shirt, skin-tight blue jeans, and a pair of sandals. My lfet hand was on her left arm holding it with her own hand.

"Carly…" I whispered to myself as I pointed at her picture.

I looked to my right. I just stared at him… I didn't care what he wore. Whatever he wore was good to me. But I might as well tell you… He was wearing a black and blue striped long sleeve shirt, with light brown Cargo pants. My arm was around his waist holding him tightly. I don't think he noticed where my hand was when we took this picture. I loved the boy in this picture. He was like the angel that was sent for me. Tears fell as I looked at his smile again.

"Freddie… I am… so… in love with you,… you wouldn't even believe how much…"

I laugh to myself as I stared at myself. I was holding onto them tightly for a reason… I didn't want them to leave. I was wearing a dark purple zipper-up with Capri shorts and converse shoes. I was in love with this picture. It was a picture of us all getting along together. Spencer took this picture, the day we all went to the Californian boardwalk for the day. My tears fell faster as I remembered that day. (A/N- I'll write a separate story if you guys really want to know what happened, Why they all got along…) I plucked the picture from it's nail to reveal my secret vault. I pulled out the metal box that was housed behind the picture I loved. I hobbled over to my bed and sat the metal box upon my lap. As I open the metal box, I take a deep breath.

I see a razor blade, a pack of sterilized bandages and a bottle filled with alcohol. I touch the razor and look at it for a couple of minutes. I stand up and slip off my blue jeans and dark red, long sleeve shirt. I leave my dark blue panties and bra on. I sit back down with razor in hand. I sit there for a second before I painfully slide onto the floor. I pulled my left leg to my chest and feel the 10 puffy lines I have done in the past couple of weeks. I close my eyes and try to remember something happy. I lowered my left leg and pulled my right leg to my chest. I felt my inner thigh and smiled at the innocence of this leg. It had not seen a razor and had not been touched by one. I lowered my right leg and hugged myself. As I bit my lip, I cut a line on my left hip. Tears fell in waves as the pain hit every inch of my body. I put the razor in my other hand and hugged myself again, repeating the process on the other side. When I was done, I dropped the razor onto the floor. I grabbed my metal box and pulled out my bottle filled with alcohol. I drenched my hip in the alcohol and yelped at the sting. Blood covered the floor, as if a bowl of fruit punch had been spilled. I quickly grabbed the sterile cloth and began to wrap it around my waist. By the time I was done, I was in pain from the beating and the cutting. I stuffed all the objects into the metal box, got up and walked over to the picture I loved. I put the metal box back into the hole and replaced the picture back to its home. As I looked at the picture once more, I cried.

'They don't know… I don't want them to know…' I go to my desk and pick up some random picture and walk back over to the picture I love. I take the picture from its home and replace it with the stupid picture I had of me frowning sitting next to Freddie. As I look at the happiness in the picture, I walk over to my bed. I lay down in the fetal position looking at the picture. I hold the picture close to me and look out the window to my right. I look at a star that was moving.

"I wish… Freddie would call me… and explain to me why he needs me in his life… Why I deserve to live one second longer…" I wish upon that moving star. I stare at that star for a long time. I repeat the same sentence over and over until the sentence is engraved into my mind. I sat there for 10 minutes before I realized that the 'star' I had been wishing upon… was really just some random airplane. I closed my eyes and cried holding onto the picture tighter and tighter.

"Freddie… call… please…" tears fell fast and hard. They began to hurt. I gripped my eyes tighter.

"Freddie… please…" she begged… she pleaded.

I held the picture closer. Almost making it apart of me.

*KNOCK*KNOCK*KNOCK*

I gripped the picture tighter. I thought it was my mother at my door.

*KNOCK*KNOCK*KNOCK*

I opened her eyes when I realized it wasn't my mother. I jumped off my bed, but gripped my hips from the stinging pain. I opened my bedroom door and looked right, towards the door. A shadow was cast upon the left window. I turned around and looked at my airplane clock. The red digits read 11:59 pm. I leered back at the door and saw the shadow still standing there. I slowly limped down the hallway. Before I opened my front door, I cleaned herself up myself as best she could. Sadly, there was no way to cover up the bruises on my face.

The second I opened up the door, the clock chimed. 12:00 am midnight. Light had blinded me. I lifted up my left arm trying to deflect at least some of the light. As the light soon dimmed. I looked at who was there. The boy was in a dark blue long sleeve shirt with black pants.

"Hey, Sam… What's up?" he had asked in his innocent voice.

"Freddie… What are you doing here? It's like… 12:00" I asked dumbfounded.

"Yeah… so? I wanted to see you…" He said in that little funny voice as he smiled that oxygen stealing smile.

"Well You've seen me… BYE!" I went to my walled self. As I tried to close the door before he could see the bruises on my face, he caught it.

"Wait… why do you have bruises on your face?" he asked gripping the closing door.

"No reason…" 'It would only cause him pain… I don't want that.' I thought to myself.

"Did… Did your mother do that to you?…" he asked.

I looked away. Anger gripped him. He pushed the front door open and grabbed me to make sure I didn't hit the wall. As he wrapped his arms around me, I felt in a bit of heaven. But he was angry, more like pissed.

He gently moved me out of the way and trudged down my hallway. I followed behind him as quickly as I could. By the time I got to my mother's room, he was on the floor.

"Freddie!…" I screamed.

"You know this little fucker! You BITCH! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" She began to walk towards me.

Before I knew it, my mother was on the ground. Freddie had attacked her from behind. He had pushed her to the ground. In that one push, her head had hit the desk and she had been left unconscious (A/N- still alive…=( I'm not allowed to have characters I love kill… unless needed to) Freddie grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to leave. Before I left, I told him that I needed some stuff from my room. I grabbed a red backpack and proceeded to insert items into my bag. I grabbed my Airplane clock, the picture of Me, Carly, and Freddie. And before I left my room, I looked at the picture of me frowning at Freddie that now housed the metal box. I strode over to the picture and picked it up from its new home and looked at the hole in my wall. Inside the hole was my metal box. I took a deep breath and picked it up and put it in my red bag in the front pocket. I zipped up everything quickly. After a few minutes of grabbing a bunch of clothes, I left my room and closed it. I turned to my right to see Freddie waiting there with his keys in his hand twirling it on his fingers.

I smiled at him and began to walk down the hallway. When I got to the door, he hugged me with a full-hearted embrace. When he passed my hips, I winced but didn't make it known. 'He can never know…' Freddie broke the hug and we both left the house I called home. As I closed the door, I was happy that I was never going to go back there.

A/N- End of chapter or story… you decide… should I keep going on with this story or just end it there… I'll give one week… if this story is not particularly liked… I'll end it.. But if it is… well I'll have another chapter in two weeks…

The story is a bit non-real to the show… Review with comments…

This story was depressing to write… I cried like 7 times… totally depressing…