~S~
She was frozen.
For once in her life, the kitchen tile never looked more comforting.
Her breathing was steady. Her heartbeat was rhythmic. The long sleeves her gray fleece were like lotion on dry skin. Her fingers trailed all along the material, reaching for something to feel other than the knife in her chest.
She dazed out, taking herself away to a better life-a greater life-than she could have ever possibly imagined.
A life that she once had that was now a distant memory.
The scent of oxygen and homegrown flowers sitting in the windowsill was interrupted by the smell of tobacco and tar.
A fog shrouded over her eyes. At first she thought they had glossed over.
Smoke. She was seeing through smoke.
The burning sensation made her shut them tight and recoiling, her back hitting that of the chair's she was sitting in, and bursting into a coughing fit.
"Babe, I'm not going to ask you twice," a deep voice filled her ears, which originally heard the chirping of nature's call in the branches of the trees standing tall just outside her window.
Very slowly, she opened her eyes. The smoke was gone. His details were clear. The scruff on his face from the two day's span of time that he didn't shave. The white tank-top stained with old Heineken beer. The black pull-string sweatpants he was wearing with moth-eaten holes on the right leg. The Marlboro cigarette resting just between his forefinger and middle finger, in the same hand that he gripped the bottle so firmly, his knuckles were white.
She knew the disappointment of herself for being intimidated by such a lowlife of a man. However, seeing as his stature stood at about 6' 4", weighing 215 pounds (all muscle, little fat) and she came in at a short 5' 3" 118 pounds, her husband, the one whom she feared the most, could probably break her in two with no effort at all. This much she knew, and it was enough to stay on his good side.
And he wasn't always like this. From the beginning, Josh had been a good man. When they met, Sam was in a pretty banged up condition. She was fresh out of a relationship with her high school sweetheart and had moved away from the city to get a new start without the hassle of controlling parents weighing her down. She moved to New Jersey, while her loved ones stayed in New York, and she was beginning her college life majoring in animal science and photography in order to pursue her dream as a wildlife photographer. A mishap at a cafe one day led to a very polite, gentleman offering to pay for her frappuccino. With no money to pay him back, but still in means to somehow reward him, they shared a booth and talked about themselves: what they were interested in, what they were doing in Jersey, the weird accents that most of the residents had.
"You're not from around here at all, are you?" he asked her.
"God, no," she laughed. "I'm from New York. Amity Park, a small town on the outskirts of Amityville, in Babylon."
"I can tell by your accent; it's not local."
"You recognize my accent?" she pulls back, covering her mouth. "God, I feel sorry for you-"
"No, it's… it's cute. I love New York accents."
"You… do?"
"Yeah. This one time, I went to Brooklyn because my brother used to play in a band when we were kids. When he was in his early 20s, he got a gig at some small bar there. Not much of a place to perform, but it was a start. I couldn't get in, since I was only 19 at the time, but I stood outside the bar and I listened. I was leaning against the wall, on the side of the place, and as people walked by, I picked up on some of the conversations they were having. Their accents are so weird, and yet… really comforting, all at the same time."
"What about the Bronx?" Sam asked. "Have you been there before?"
"Nah," he waved a hand, "but I've heard a lot about it. I've watched some of those older movies with the police detectives and their loose ties and poorly buttoned shirts with the sleeves rolled up. They tha tuff guis eh?" he mocked a Bronx accent.
Sam giggled. "Good one."
They were still for a bit, and Sam sipped her frappuccino, and reached over the table, slowly closing his hand around hers and flashing her a handsome smile. Her eyes looked down at his appendage and back up at his face, focusing in on his straight pearly whites.
"Has everyone ever told you that you're so amazingly beautiful?"
She leans in, a sarcastic smirk on her face. "Do you say that to all the pretty girls you meet?"
"No seriously, you are. I'm mostly fascinated with your eye color. Are they naturally like that?"
"Yes," she nodded. "I was born with a condition that causes irregular eye color. It's not damaging to the cornea at all, but it's really cool, having purple eyes."
"Alexandria's Genesis?"
"You've heard of it?"
"I read a book about it," he answered. "I mean, it was fiction, but… I didn't actually think the condition existed."
She gives a slow nodded; he gives her hand a squeeze.
"Come on, why don't you let me take you on a date?"
Sam let out a sigh, gently taking her other hand and wrapping it around his, placing back over to his side of the table. She thought that he was a sweet man, incredibly charming and very intelligent, but she wasn't ready to move on to something else. A brief flashback flooded her mind: his blue eyes, his hands on her shoulders, him telling her that it's best this way and that they'd be happier. He wrapped his strong arms around her, and gave him a light peck on the cheek, whispering goodbye in his ear. The last thing she remembers about him is the scent of his cologne on his shirt, his eyes looking at her with a sense of sympathy, and his slumped composure as he half-heartedly got into his car and drove off down the road, never to be seen by her again.
He was going to college, far away.
Off to start a new life and to create a new half of himself.
She knew that if he could move on, she had to as well.
But he was so good to her… they'd dated for so long…
She just couldn't, no matter how hard she tried. Talking to someone else felt like cheating on him in her heart.
She couldn't bear the thought of that.
Looking at him, she changed the topic. "By the way, I didn't catch your name."
"Josh," he smiled. "My name's Josh. Are you trying to change the topic, Miss…?"
"Sam," she answered.
"Miss Sam? Come on, just one date. If I'm horrible, we can just stay friends. I promise."
"That's so sweet of you, and it's tempting, but I can't."
"Oh. Is there… is there someone else?"
"No, no, of course not. It's just that I just got out of a relationship not too long ago, a really good one, and I'm not ready yet."
"Will you at least consider giving me a chance?"
"Consider it…?" She was pensive.
"Consider," he grinned, "meaning it doesn't have to be official."
She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. Her coffee had long cooled, but her heart was warmed up. This guy was perfect in every way shape or form. Perfect dark hair. Perfect white teeth. Gorgeous chiseled face. It's almost as if fate saw her shitty situation and sent her a gift to lighten her up. Not to mention the guy was a complete smooth-talker. Incredibly persuasive. Had that "I get what I want" attitude.
At the time, he was the most handsome, flawless human being she'd ever met.
A loud clank scared the living daylights out of her, and she jolted.
"ANSWER ME," Josh raised his voice. He was growing more and more impatient as the seconds ticked by.
"Yes," she quietly uttered, "I'll make you dinner tonight."
"Well?"
"Well?" she repeated confused.
"You stupid-" he uttered quietly, then spoke clear enough for her to hear, "aren't you going to ask me what I want?"
"What do you want?" her tone of voice was stale, like she spoke with forced words.
He leans to her, grabs her wrist and gives her a sarcastic smile. He squeezes. She winces.
"Sam, darling, how about you ask me like you care about it?"
"I'm sorry. What would you like for dinner tonight hubby?"
"Now that you ask," he smiled, letting go of her wrist, "minestrone soup."
Sam gives a small nod with a heavy head. There's so much she wishes she could do. So much she wishes she could say.
But the hardest thing about this relationship isn't obeying; it's insubordinating. Like rubbing her wrists against metal handcuffs. He reaches his face across the table, tapping his right cheek with his index finger. She meets him halfway and kisses his cheek, standing up from the table and going over to the pantry, taking out a couple of spices before going to the refrigerator and taking out the necessary vegetables. So focused in preparation, she failed to notice a stray tear escaping her eye, and only realized once she saw a clear droplet fall to the floor. She wiped it, taking some more mascara off with it.
That's all her relationship was about now.
Tears, smeared makeup and spiteful dinners.
…
~D~
The lock clicks and he twists the door open, moving a strand of black-colored hair out of his eyes and squinting his blue eyes in the dim lights of the room. He closes the door behind him, using his foot since his hands were too busy keeping grocery bags and a work bag, and locks it back up, putting his keys in the bowl. Unopened boxes were still stacked in piles throughout the room, a result of both laziness and little time to do much of the unpacking. It was draining, moving into a new house from a small apartment in the city. Instead of not having enough room for too many possessions, it was like they had too many possessions and too much room. How were they going to fill the gaps? He hears clanking in the kitchen, an indication that he's not the only one in the house who is actively moving about.
"Hey babe," he calls out.
"In the kitchen," a much more feminine voice responds.
He sets his bag down and brings the groceries in the kitchen, setting them on the counter. The ever so beautiful voice that he had heard was coming from a luscious, curvy woman, standing before a stovetop, stirring the substance in a pot of boiling water. She jerks her head back to look at him, then turns back and continues.
"Hey Danny, dinner's almost ready."
"No problem Sarah, take your time."
"Oh, don't worry, I will," she smirks. "What did you bring me?"
"Oh, nothing," he responds, "just some stuff for dinner tomorrow night."
"You got taco stuff, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did, but it's on me. You can have a night to relax."
She sets the wooden spoon down, using a towel to dry her hands of the condensation from the steam. "Gee, thanks. I think I'll take you up on that." With a sly smile, he steps behind her and nibbles at her neck, giving her bottom a good whack. She waves his hand away, whispering for him to leave her be to get dinner done. He reluctantly obeys and leaves the kitchen, taking off his jacket and leaning it against the couch before going upstairs to change out of his uniform. The whole time through, he thinks about his life: how he ended up there, how things would've turned out different if he had stayed in Amity Park.
If he had stayed with Sam.
Oh, Sam… his sweet Samantha.
They fell completely out of touch since their separation. It wasn't his intention; he just didn't keep up with her. He wondered even more now how she was doing. Did she get married? Have kids? He mentally laughed at himself. Sam was never one for either of those things. Then his mind immediately went to how much Sam could've changed in all these years that passed. He definitely knows her Goth phase was amiss; she was already leaving it towards their departure. They've had such a bond together, tied since the second grade. He wanted to hope that everything was ok, but Sam didn't even contact him once in the time that they've been apart. Granted he knew he could've easily contacted Tucker to see if he still had Sam's number, or if she changed it, if he was still in touch with her, but he always did suck at communication. Sam was better than that. Sam always contacted them.
What if she was in trouble? Was everything alright?
Danny's mind took a complete u-turn down a dark road, and he felt his blood run cold. Break up or not, Danny always loved Sam, and still does even after giving his vows to another woman. The thought of her getting hurt by someone made him sick to his stomach, and angry all at the same time. He always protected Sam, and he wasn't going to stop just because both of them mutually agreed that their distance would drift them apart.
Occasionally, he'd go ghost, just to fly back to Amity Park to see his family. They'd always be relieved, like it's been ages since he's been around. His mother would cry, his father would smile, and the times that his sister was there, she'd give him a big hug and never let him go. He never realized how little he'd see them once he'd start living on his own. Since his departure, they've gotten more time to each other, and at first they weren't entirely sure what to do with it. They were, after all, retired from ghost hunting, but they were still making gadgets and distributing them all throughout Amity Park. The citizens bought them from good money, since the town had so many paranormal incidents and the Fenton's were the only ones who manufactured and sold ghost hunting and repelling equipment. It was good money, definitely enough to make a living on, and it was bringing good to the family business.
Jazz had long left even before Danny, and she had started her life as a psychologist. From the last conversation that they had, Danny remembered her saying that she was married with a child, and she was living a comfortable lifestyle. She dropped in with her family for the holidays, but the top discussion had always been why Danny never came around as much. Truth was was that Danny was too afraid to bring Sarah around. It's not that she was a "bad influence" or "the type of girl you wouldn't bring home to Mom and Dad", but she had a very extroverted personality. You either liked her or you didn't-that's the kind of person she was. Sam was much more laid back; it was easier to bring her around his parents, especially since she was already considered a part of the family since her and Danny were little. It's not that his parents wouldn't like Sarah, it would just definitely take some getting used to, and he was afraid that if, hypothetically, they never did, that it would be troublesome, considering he's already engaged to her. For what it was worth, though, Jazz had already met her and she liked her a lot. They got along perfectly. Even Tucker liked her, and Tucker doesn't think to high of "extroverted people".
Tucker was definitely a man of his word. He said he was going to be mayor of Amity Park for as long as possible, and he upheld his title even to this very day. It must have been a lot to keep track of, but it didn't really seem to bother him much. He and Valerie actually went somewhere, which was fine with Danny. Even though him and Valerie did have a thing, he kind of pushed them together. Valerie was a good girl, and deserved the best treatment she could've gotten. Tucker was a good guy, looking for a girl to treat right. They were the perfect match. As far as Danny knew, they were just cohabitating, but nothing more. Tucker was going to propose to her, but only when the time was right. Plus he was more of a doofus, and didn't know how to do it properly. Danny had to give him pointers. Once a week, when they had their outings at their favorite bar, Danny would try to build a scenario to walk him through, but Tucker would always chicken out. One day he won't be afraid to take that extra step. Danny wasn't, and he didn't regret it in the slightest.
Well… that was a lie.
Danny didn't tell Sarah this, but every time that they had sex, all he would see was Sam. He remembered the times that they were young, the times that they'd have sex. He remembered her smell, how she tasted, how she sounded, how it felt when her handles traveled up and down his chest. His favorite place for her to rub. How she'd whisper his name every time he kissed one of her favorite places to be kissed. Every time Sarah and him had sex, all he saw was Sam.
All he felt was Sam.
All he smelled was Sam.
All he tasted when he went down on her was Sam.
All he heard was Sam.
And he felt horrible, marrying Sarah while he fantasized about another girl. He loved Sarah deeply, with all his heart, but… he just couldn't get Sam out of his head. Why couldn't he get her out of his head?
He now realized that he had sat down on the bed and placed his head in his hands. He rubbed his face roughly, giving his cheek a little slap. He shook his head hard. Sam was gone. He had to get over her. Years of convincing and personal therapy were his attempts to, but her presence stuck with him. How the hell do you get over someone so perfect? So beautiful? He promised to spend the rest of his life with her. To have kids with her. To marry.
But instead he broke it, swearing himself to another girl. He felt as if he betrayed her, even though their break-up made it clear there was no future between them. The distance just wouldn't be bearable.
He got up with a deep sigh, opening the curtain just by the foot of his bed. Drawing the blinds up, he placed his hands on the window. She was somewhere out there, and he hoped that wherever it was, she was happy and she was being treated well. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and the creaking sound of the bedroom door opening.
"Is everything alright, Danny?"
Without turning around, but lightening his voice just a tad, he responded with a brief, "yes, everything's good."
"Ok," she said. "Well, your… plate's ready. You don't want your food getting cold, do you?"
"I'll be down in just a second, babe. Go ahead and start without me. You rented those new movies, right?"
"Yeah, I'll go pop it in. Just… if you need to talk-"
"I don't need to talk, sweetie. Everything's fine. I promise."
"Ok, ok," she said. Without another word, she reluctantly started back down the stairs. Just across the way, the neighbors next door had the blinds to their bedroom open. Danny didn't like to be an eavesdropper because he thought it was rude, but despite his conscious, he nosily peaked in anyway.
He saw a girl.
A girl with long, black hair that went down to her mid-back, wearing what looked like a gray long-sleeved jacket. Her back was facing the window. She was holding her arms with her head bent down. With the position she's in, it looked like she was crying. Her right hand came up to her face and moved in a wiping motion before she stood up, turned and started walking towards the blinds.
He pulled back and gasped.
Amethyst eyes.
She had amethyst eyes.
"No fucking way," he whispered to himself. He peaked through again, but he was too slow to get a second look. The blinds were closed. He left the blinds and turned back towards the bedroom, freezing in place. "Sam? Was that… Sam?"
…
DUN DUN DUN, cliffhanger. Have fun contemplating the next chappie-don't know when it's coming out.
