Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Even though it would be absolutely amazing if I did.

Another, top of the head story. Let me know how you like it!

"I didn't know, I swear." Carly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, trying to hide her puffy, red eyes from everyone. She stood by my hospital bed and gazed down at my lifeless body. Freddie wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair as she buried her head in his neck.

"Shhh..." He whispered comfortingly. "It wasn't your fault."

"I should've seen this coming. I knew it too...I just let myself forget." Her voice came in shudders, muffled by Freddie's strong, broad shoulder.

"Don't worry, Carly." I wanted to say. I couldn't stand seeing my best friend all crumpled and sad. "I'm not dead yet."

EARLIER THAT NIGHT

I stormed into the Shay's bathroom, overwhelmed with anger and disgust.

My dad had come home drunk, as usual, and started beating my mom right there in the living room. I sat on my bed, trying to block out the sounds of my parents by wrapping a pillow around my head. I sang to myself quietly, hoping that the tune of "Dark Blue" by Jack's Mannequin would help me forget what was happening in the other room. I shut my eyes tight, and turned up the volume in my voice, squeezing the pillow harder around my ears.

"Shut the fuck up, Samantha Puckett." I heard my door bang against the wall and my eyes popped open, revealing the shape of a tall, heavy-set man in my doorway. "Shut up or I'll make you shut up."

He swung at my head, but I blocked his fist with the pillow, which didn't do much since half the feathers had already fallen out. I looked up at his face and saw that his eyes were blood shot and his face a sickly yellow color. His breath smelled like straight vodka, a scent which I knew all too well. Drool dangled from his mouth, and his teeth were crooked and coffee stained. Times when he used to come home bragging about promotions at work flashed in my mind, and I lunged for the door.

Stepping over half broken beer bottles, I saw my mother curled up in the couch, trying to muster up the courage to go and sober up her husband. My head ached from where he had punched me, and I rushed out our apartment door, hitting a dead run as I heard the swear words yelled after me getting quieter and quieter.

Carly's apartment was where I always went when this sort of thing happened.

"Carly!" I said, clutching my throbbing head. "Let me in...please."

She came to the door, and sighed, like I had just interrupted something big.

"You can't do this, Sam. Just because your parents fight doesn't mean you can come here." She tilted her head sideways and stared at me.

I stepped into her living room and saw Jake sitting on the couch. I turned and looked at Carly, who's hair was messed up and her lips swollen from kissing to hard.

"I just needed to get away from there...you kno..." I started.

"No, Sam. I don't want to come between you and your parents. I know you guys don't have the perfect relationship but that doesn't mean you can mess my night because of one little fight."

One little fight? I stumbled back, stunned. Carly never acted this way when I came over because of my parents. She knew what went on at my house. I ran out of the living room and into the bathroom.

My eyes welled up with angry tears as I pulled my dads pocket knife out of my jeans and rolled up my sleeve. The cutting had been going on for a while now, and I gazed down at my arm where the band-aid was still there from yesterday morning. There was something about the pain that made everything feel better, and it was the only way I could calm myself down. I ripped off the band-aid and made the gash deeper. This one's for you, Carly Shay. You and your new boyfriend, the oh-so-precious Jake Randall. I felt the blood run down my wrist and I started to make another slit. Here's to you, dad, for making my life a fucking mess. I slid my sleeve up more, and made the clean cut once again. Let's not forget mom. The woman who said everything would be alright. Look how great that plan turned out. I let out a slow breath and watched the red drip onto Carly's stark white linoleum. I rolled up my other sleeve and looked at the scars from all the times that I had cut myself over the last month. All fourteen of them formed a jagged F. I'm sorry, Freddie. I thought, as the doorknob rattled and Carly's voice come from the other side.

"Sam open up..."

That was the last thing I heard before everything went dark.

--

CARLY'S POV

"Sam open up...I'm sorry." I said, reaching in my hair for a bobby pin. I thought of the last time I had caught her in the girl's bathroom at school, her eyes were wet and her sleeve soaked with blood. I led her to the school nurse as I noticed the end of a pocket knife sticking out of her pocket. I picked the lock quickly, and braced myself for an angry Sam as I slowly opened the door.

"Sam? Are you ok...?" I looked down and sucked in air. Sam was lying on the floor, a gun-shots amount of blood surrounding her side. I bent down and stared at her left arm, which was cut wide open in at least four places and gushing blood. I dialed 911 as fast as I could, checking her pulse and finding out that she was barley breathing.

"I need an ambulance. Yes...I think my best friend might be dead."