Hey again for the second time today...I wrote this a while ago and decided instead of posting this tomorrow I'll do it today :P Lol. This is technically just a flashback of Sam's life. It's AU a little bit. Intended Sam/Scam so if you don't like it, get lost :P

Oh and all in Sam's POV.

Disclaimer: Like anyone would be stupid enough you believe I actually owned this...if I was, I'd be relaxing in a pool on a tropical island...

I remember those times clearly.

It could start with anything. It could end it anything and somehow, we all got hurt in the process. Most of the time, it was cheating. Most of the time they'd fight over the remote or spot to sit on. Most of the time, it was over my education or clothes or books; but soon enough they'd stray away from that topic and be at each other's throats.

It could be anything.

I remember when I used to go to school with a stoic expression on my face. I remember when I used to cry myself to sleep every night to block out their screaming voices. I remember the times when I used to pretend everything was okay and I didn't have any problems. I remember when I used to ditch school when things got too tough and run to my favourite cliff-top. I remember just sitting there and admiring the beauty of sun and sea.

I remember the salty breeze blowing my hair, and the sound of the waves crashing on the pitch black rocks below. I remember kicking my dangling legs back and forth; licking my lollipop or ice-cream that I stashed in my school bag.

No one cared.

No one cared where I went during the class times. No one reported my disappearing acts to my parents. They just didn't care – or notice that I was gone. So I was free to do whatever I wanted to do. I could have walked out of their lives forever and I bet they wouldn't have noticed. I bet they wouldn't have bothered to care if I went out with a random stranger on the street for the night.

So I was free from adult nagging. But I did I like it?

I remember whenever my old so-called friends had parties or sleepovers. They'd always asked everyone that they should ask their parents before saying yes. My heart always died because I knew that mine wouldn't care if I went. So I'd lie. I'd always lie to them and say I'll ask them – even if I knew the answer already.

I remember feeling so trapped all the time. I remember Gabby and David shouting at one another in the mornings, afternoons and nights. There was never a single moment that they weren't screaming at one another. I remember when I was small and I asked them if they'd stop screaming so I could sleep.

They stopped for a while, but soon again they'd be off again the next morning. And I'd given up on getting a proper night's sleep anymore. I usually snuck out to my friend's house for the night. I wouldn't even call it sneaking out – they'd always be there right in front of me, shouting at one another, as I left.

My friend was suspicious of me always over at her house, so I started to lay back at other friends houses at different nights. They were all so gullible. They never even noticed that I was almost always never at my own home.

I remember the night I was walking home from my friend's house. We'd had a massive argument and I didn't want to be in her presence anymore. I remember seeing blinking red and blue lights flashing in front of me.

It was the night that changed my entire life.

I remember how cold and lonely that night was. I remember running up to my house, yellow police tapes blocking my way. I tore them apart and ran across the massive large bodies dressed in fancy blue clothing. There were so many cars and people. I ran to my porch, but I was stopped. One man stopped me from getting into my house.

He was kind. He was a nice person. He was older than me from a few years; probably about eight. I was ten years old. I was only ten.

He was tall, and had blond hair and nice eyes. I couldn't remember what colour his eyes were. They were blue, I think. He stopped me from running into my house. I kicked and screamed and shoved in his arms. He was holding me back from my own house!

I was scared.

I hadn't been scared in a long, long time. I remember the front door was open and so many people were walking in and out from it.

I wanted to kick at them all.

This was my house! How dare they enter there! Where were Gabby and David? Why weren't they stopping these bad people from coming in our home?

The nice man with the pretty eyes told me calm down. He told me that I was okay and I should listen to him. I didn't know how or why, but I listened to what he did. After years of being deprived of love from Gabby and David, I only listened to one person – myself. But suddenly I was listening to some random person with nice eyes?

I don't know why, but I felt as if I could trust this man.

The nice man called someone. He called to some person named Jerry. I remember being confused – why was this man calling the cartoon mouse Jerry? But then I saw an old-looking man walking towards us.

They were talking, both of them. But I wasn't listening properly. I was too busy staring at my home, the red and blue lights blinking in my eyes. They flashed brightly in my pupils, blocking a half of my vision. Soon enough, I began to pick only a few catch of words from both of them.

"...lots of shouting...broke...light..."

"...too...destroyed the sofa...electricity crashed..."

"– shattered, noises...neighbours worried...screamed...blocked...security..."

"...yeah, scared everyone...suddenly...completely silent..."

"...snuck in without detection! Never...completely sociopathic...brutal..."

"Neighbours...blood...so much everywhere...both dead..."

Those two words snapped me out of my dazed trance.

I couldn't understand what they were talking about. I snapped to their distraught faces, they looked sad. But I couldn't care if they were; I glared at them with malice in my eyes. I demanded to know what they were talking about – where my parents were.

They stared at me sadly. Their eyes filled with concern. They obviously didn't know that I was the kid of Gabby and David Simpson. Don't get me wrong – I didn't really care if they were alive or dead. But they were still my parents and I still loved them – even if it was a little bit.

I needed to know if they were okay.

The nice man started to talk to me. He said it all very slowly. But I couldn't sink in what he was saying. He couldn't be right. This wasn't happening.

My parents were murdered?

That was the night everything came crashing down. I didn't have parents anymore. I was an orphan. I was all alone by myself with no one to look after me. I was all alone. I didn't know where to go.

My relatives never cared for me or my parents because they all hated my mom and dad. Apparently neither sides of the family wanted them to get married – and then when they eloped, they were cut off from their families forever.

I had no brothers or sisters. I was going to have to live on the streets all by myself. I had to scrounge around the streets to survive.

I felt nothing.

I didn't feel anything for my (former) parents. I didn't cry or break down, I didn't beg them to come back or regret never being there for them. They were never there for me, so why should I feel bad for them? Why should I stay feeling miserable for them? They'd done enough of that to me when they were alive. I didn't feel anything. They weren't my parents. They were only holding the title, they might have given me life – but what did they do after that?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The two men were talking to me this time. They were asking if I had any relatives or siblings. They were asking if I had any friends that would take me in. I glared at them menacingly.

"I've got no one. Everyone hated my family, Gabby and David where the only ones that lived in the same house as me." I said icily.

They glanced at one another. Apparently they weren't expecting me to be so calm and collected about my parent's death. Or bitter. They probably expected me to started crying and blubbering like a baby, begging or screaming that life wasn't fair for taking my loving parents away from me and that they never deserved to die this horrible way.

Psh, As. if.

That'll be the day I might be noticed by someone important.

A chilly breeze ripped through the tense night. I shivered in my school uniform. Gabby and David never brought me clothes. I had to steal money from their wallets. And even in small amounts so that they wouldn't notice. They would've beat me if they ever found out I've been taking money from them to buy new socks; because my old ones were all ripped from the amount of times I had worn them.

The two men started talking in hushed voices. The old man was shaking his head vigorously and repeating the word no while the nice man was trying to convince the old man of something.

After a while of standing in the freezing cold, the back of my legs started to ache and I needed to sit down. I started to debate inside my head whether or not to run into my house and fall asleep in my bed.

Now that Gabby and David were gone, there wouldn't be any yelling or screaming in the house anymore. I could get a good night's rest for the first time! I smiled at the thought of having a huge house all to myself. I could do anything that I wanted to do. I could play whenever I wanted to and invite anyone over whenever I felt like it. I could have all the money in the world because of Gabby and David's bank accounts left over to me.

There wouldn't be anyone to fight over the remote for or food. I could do whatever I wanted whenever I felt like it. I could even quit school and hang around my house all day or play at the park!

I was too consumed in these happy thoughts to remember that two men were talking right next to me. I finally noticed them when the nice man called me. He asked me what my name was.

I told them.

Then they went off this huge thing about how my parents were good people. I listened intently. But I didn't hear what they were saying. All I could think about was that they were lying.

Lie. Lie. Lie.

These men were either lying to me or they didn't know what kind of people Gabby and David were. I listened to them, screaming inside that they weren't telling the truth, that they were completely deluded into thinking that her so-called parents were good people.

But then they started talking about my mother. They started talking about how my mother, Gabby did good deeds to the world. They started talking about how she was a secret undercover agent and she saved lives every day. They talked about how she was a good sacrificing person and how she saved lives.

I didn't want to believe them. I didn't want to be pulled into thinking my mother was a secret agent that sacrificed her life for everyone else. I abandoned any chance of heroes being good people ever again. Everyone was evil. Everyone was. Heroes were always sacrificing their lives for bad selfish people. They helped everyday people with every single thing that they could take care perfectly by themselves. People were all selfish and they did nothing but stab others in the back. Heroes were a waste of time according to her. They all were.

I didn't want to be pulled into thinking that my mother: who was never there for me and screamed and hated her child and husband all the time; was a actual undercover agent that saved people's lives around the world.

I knew that they were lying and I felt that I could pull them out of their deluded fantasies...but it looks like these men were too into this kind of junk.

I remember feeling sorry for them.

Sorry that they never understood what I did. I felt sorry because they never would know what I had to go through to understand there was no such thing as heroes or heroines. They never existed and never will.

I remember them promising things.

They promised me that they will take care of me. They promised me that they would give me a place to stay, a place to call home. They even had the nerve to promise me that they would make the murderer pay for killing my parents. To be honest – I didn't know if I was going to laugh first or scoff. Because in truth – I didn't care about my parents.

I was sort of glad they were dead.

They were never there for me. So why should I avenge them when I have nothing to avenge them for? It made no sense. I wanted to tell them that they were wasting their time trying to track down my parents' killer because I didn't care about them at all. I wanted to tell them that Gabby and David were horrible parents that yelled at one another all day and never cared for me. I wanted to tell someone everything that was killing me inside.

I wanted out.

But I couldn't do anything. I couldn't say anything that would help me. I wasn't able to come clean with them. So I let them do whatever they wanted to do. I let them search for the killer.

Five days later, ex-weapons director and mass murderer Timothy Scam was put into WOOHP jail.

And I couldn't thank him enough.

Yes, I know. Yes, yes. I know that there wasn't any Scam in there that was enough to satisfy you but I promise for the next one I'm writing on he'll be in there more. I'm technically working on about three or four Totally Spies one-shots all at once...

Gotta love multi-tasking, don't you?

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Luvs Twikadevra