A/N: Okay, so this is just the product of sudden, unexpected muse. I got an idea, and I thought I needed to put it out there before I lost the thought. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it. Initially, I was going to make it a two-shot, but I have some ideas that could make this a multi-chaptered story. So, you tell me? It's summer, obviously, so I have quite a lot of time. And I'm only planning on updating a couple of my other stories, so I probably won't be overwhelmed. So, yeah, you tell me, okay? 3 Kaylah
iCan't Believe It – Chapter One
My name is Freddie Bensen, and I'm twenty two years old. A lot has changed for me over the course of these past few years. Five, to be exact, but who's counting? When high school ended, my best, or can I say, only friends each went their separate ways, off to college, or to whatever they had chosen to do. I went off to Stanford, full scholarship. We promised to keep in touch, but things come up, you forget, and sooner or later you realize you've broken your promise. Have I wondered about what's come of them? Sure. Have I done anything to find out? Well, not exactly. Once I graduated college, I moved back to Seattle to be with my mom, and when I came to the hallway once shared by Carly, Spencer and I? Emptiness. It was virtually abandoned, no surprise, actually. My mother rarely left the house, too worried about leaving home alone, and apparently, once Carly moved away, so did Spencer. I didn't even bother checking on Sam. I figured she was probably long gone by now, doing god knows what. So I moved in with my mother. A Stanford grad, I could probably rent my own place, back in California with the money I earned on the side during school, but no. I stayed with my mom. So, that's all I've really done. Nothing, except for take care of my mother and waste my brain cells. I wasn't living with her the entire time though. When she fell down the stairs a year ago, she stayed at the hospital for quite a while. Was I happy with this? Well, I can't say I wasn't. It was nice to get away for a while.
This morning, when I went downstairs to get the mail, much to the dismay of my mother, who insisted that she come with me, I found a note, no envelope or anything, just tucked into my mailbox vents. I thought it was just solicitors, trying to sell me a new body wash that would give me a rash, but once I read it, I was taken aback.
Please Read This:
My name is Sam Puckett, and I'm in need of any information you can give me. Before you stop reading, here is my story:
Just about a year ago, maybe the third week in January, I went to the Shallow End Bar with some friends. I met a guy there, and came back to his apartment in this building. Nine months later, I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, Juliette. For my daughter's sake and future, I need to learn the identity of this man, or at least learn his name. This building is the only connection I have to him. It was a drunken night, so I can't give you a perfect description, but he was white, average height with brown hair. It's vague, I know, but it's all I have. If any of you know a man of this description who lived or is living in this building, please contact me at the information below. I would appreciate any information, no matter how useless or dead-end it might be. My daughter deserves to know who her father is. It breaks my heart to think about the future pain I might have caused her. She deserves better. Please call my number, it will be 100% anonymous if you wish.
-- Sam Puckett (206-806-1992)
I looked around and saw that the letter was stuffed into every mailbox downstairs. I couldn't help but become nervous. I remembered the bar name, I matched the description, I live here. It was clear that she was talking about me, just not knowing it. I thought back, to a year ago, and it all became clear. That little girl was my daughter, and her mom was Sam. Part of me was happy I found her, happy I had a daughter. The other part of me was freaking out that I didn't have a clue what I was going to do about it. I looked down at the number, and then down at my cell phone. Okay, so maybe I did know what to do.
A/N: So, two shot? Or do you want multiple chapters? Review and tell me!