The sun had finally set and the night sky was barely seen from tall buildings and sky scrapers. The sticky summer night had the scratchy medical clothing clinging to her skin. Sam shuffled along the sidewalk tiredly, hands wrapped around herself and she knew from the way people skirted around her that she probably looked like some escaped mental patient.

Grimacing at that thought, the fourteen year old kept walking and stuck close to the shops so that traffic was further away. The sticky feeling seemed to increase, glancing up the sky seemed to decide at that moment to cry the tears she had denied herself. The rain pattering down slowly at first and then became so heavy that everything else blurred gray. A heaviness weighed her down that had nothing to do with the soggy clothes or the chill from the rain, it was something else. Almost like a reaction to the very element itself.

Moving sluggishly, Sam walked close to ten blocks before a soft glow caught her attention. Glancing up, she paused to see that it was a homeless shelter...and it was currently lit up and open. Sniffling, Sam wiped her snotty nose on her arm and walked in quietly. Water dripped from her curly bangs, frizzy now from the humidity and rain.

Wild curls were stuck to the slick skin of her neck and her cheeks. As she glanced around, she felt an angry pang flash through her. Scowling she walked past the elderly and sickly, huddling into herself when people glanced her way. When she got to the back she found a bin with clean clothes, a kind worker offering a small smile.

"You okay sweetheart?" The older man's dark eyes raked her up and down and something about the way he said it had her hackles rising. Sneering, her lip curled the smallest bit and showed off some of her teeth.

"I ain't your 'sweetheart'. Call me that again, I dare you." Snagging a pair of jeans that looked like it'd fit her, and a red t-shirt, she turned away and skulked to the bathroom. Slipping in, Sam tugged off the drenched hospital clothes and threw them in the trash. Pulling on the new outfit she immediately felt better, running her fingers through her curls she winced when she caught a few knots.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she stepped up to the faucet and turned it on. Splashing some water onto her face she shook her head and immediately felt nausea roil in her stomach from the cold liquid. Sucking in a shuddering breathe Samantha turned off the water and stepped out of the bathroom.

Padding past the few people there tonight, the young teenager settled down in a corner away from anyone else. Ignoring the lights and people, Sam promptly rolled over and closed her eyes. The tile was cold and pressing her overly warm face to it was soothing. Breathing in slow deep breathes she found herself succumbing to sleep quickly.

"Buttercup stop that! Cat!" A loud bang as glass shattered, a man haggardly walking into the room. Obviously drunk the man waved a bottle at her and kicked blindly at her cat. With a hiss, the mangy ball of fluff ran off angrily. Freezing up, Sam swallowed and glanced up at the drunken man.

Don't get her dad wrong, he was a great guy...his only draw back was his love of the bottle. Any time he drank he became angry, oh so angry. His drinking habits and rage had ran off her mother and left only Samantha behind.

"Daddy...are...are you okay?" Sam asked nervously, playing with the too long sleeves of her sweater. Glancing up timidly she found the man trying to focus on her before he started lumbering her way. Ignoring the calculus homework completely, the young genius dropped her pencil and tried to bolt.

"Girl!" The drunk swung out at her and clipped her cheek. With a yelp she scrambled backwards and stared up at him in alarm. The angry dark haired man advancing with rage swimming in his blood shot eyes.

"Yer jus' like yer fuckin' mum. Worthless!" Spittle flew from his lips as he came closer, bottom lip trembling Sam swallowed and spoke up quietly whilst backing up.

"Daddy...you should rest. It's...it's...been a long day." Blinking stupidly, the bottle slipping from his fingers to hit the wood floor with a thump and rolled away. The smell of vodka permeating the air, grimacing Samantha tried to implore the man, speaking in the same soft tones from before.

"Daddy go get some sleep. Okay?"The man grunted, hiccuping he stumbled away. Mumbling something the whole way about botched research on meta-humans, his wrinkled and untucked white shirt was stained from alcohol and food and his black slacks equally as gross. Sighing, Sam moved to pick up the bottle and clean up the mess.

Her father wasn't cruel by nature, no..he just was a bit fond of the bottle. That was all...her daddy loved her...right?

Eyes sliding open, Sam sat up and quickly wiped the wetness from her cheeks. She hated those memories and would fight someone over the fact she still cried for the days her father would coddle her and not become like...that. Shaking her head miserably, she stood up slowly and walked past all of the sleeping lumps. At some point last night the lights had been turned down, she noted tiredly.

An ache set into her body as she slumped across the room, probably from sleeping on hard linoleum. Yawning into her hand, the other lifted up to ruffle her wild curls. Glancing out the window she blinked in surprise to see it was still quite dark, only a little light from the sky could be seen.

Probably about five or six then, Samantha thought grumpily. She had never been able to sleep that late, it didn't matter what she'd done the day before, it didn't help the fact that she had nightly nightmares that also hindered a peaceful REM cycle.

Glancing back at the room wistfully, Sam shook her head and walked out of the small building. Honestly, she just couldn't stand seeing those people anymore. Granted she'd never been much of a people person, but she didn't like to see the suffering of others. Especially elderly or children.

Moving down the sidewalk she paused seeing a store that was opening up across the street. A truck sat with the back hatch open, the man pulling out crates of stuff. She couldn't see all of it from here, but some of it looked possibly like it could be food or clothing. Glancing between the man and truck she slunk forward awkwardly. Bare feet padding painfully over the asphalt as she quickly raced across the street and jumped up into the back of the truck. Digging through the crates quickly she grinned when she realized there was a crate of just backpacks.

Grabbing a simple black one that hopefully wouldn't catch attention, Sam started digging through the other crates. Unzipping the bag she filled it with a few pairs of jeans that looked like they'd probably fit, a few t-shirts and then she came across the real gold. Grinning triumphantly she found some dried food, Twinkies and unhealthy stuff really. Shrugging, she stuffed as many hostess and other goodies as she could into the back pack until it was bulging. Smirking, she zipped it back up and jumped out of the truck just as the door jingled. Racing away as fast as she could, bare feet sore from the concrete, a bubbling laugh pulled from her chest.

Finally stopping in an alley she leaned against it and grinned broadly. Unzipping the bag she pulled out a weird pink circular treat she'd never seen, her father was a health nut, and unwrapped the crinkling paper. Biting into it the young girl moaned at the taste. Was that coconut? Smirking around the pastry she dug through the stuff and checked the sizes, everything looked like it should fit fine. Shrugging, she rolled up the pants and shirts so that they'd fit better and repacked everything.

Standing up she threw the now heavy bag over her shoulders and tightened the strap. It was so so much easier than she had expected. Honestly, the level of easiness was the true crime. Samantha had stolen for the first time in her life, Malcolm had always been the thief not her. Well he was up until the accident...hunger suddenly gone, Samantha shoved the rest of the treat into her mouth and ignored the way it suddenly tasted like ash and melted sugar. Honestly it was a disturbing combination.

"Tastes like my hopes and dreams." She muttered darkly as she began walking. Where to, she had no idea. But she did know that she'd found something she was decent at, even if it might've just been the first time she did it.

Stealing wasn't so bad, honestly it was kinda fun. The adrenaline pumping as one tried to pull off the theft before they could be caught. Suddenly she slammed into someone, her glory shattered in a millisecond as she hit the ground.

"Oomph!" She yelped as her bottom hit the hard pavement, "O-ow..." Sitting up properly Sam rubbed the back of her head and heard an accented voice speak up dryly with grunt.

"Ya can say that again." Glancing up, she froze at the unknown man. She had no idea who the man was but he looked like he could be dangerous, the accent wasn't helping. Lunging up she backed away once she realized there were two more just behind him.

"What's yer problem munchin?" He snipped irritably, immediately her eyes flashed as sparks flew from her hair. The three men stiffened at the sight of fire crackling, however briefly, from her hair.

"What's it to you?" She hissed, British accent coming through as she scowled at them before grabbing her bag. As she rushed past him she subtly snagged the leather from his jacket pocket, wasn't her fault he just left it perfectly out in the open.

"Oi!" An angry yell called from behind her as she hastened off. Sam simply cackled as she glanced down at the smooth brown leather in her hands. Easy. Way to easy. Flipping it open she ignored everything but the zipper area. Unzipping it she found forty dollars, pulling it out with a sly smirk she stuffed it into her pocket. Flipping the wallet curiously she paused when she saw the ID. What kinda name was Digger?

Of course just as she thought that she was safe the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Tensing up she froze when she saw the shadow fall over her. Swallowing loudly she turned around slowly only to see the man from before standing there, arms crossed as he scowled down at her, had to of been at least five foot ten or so. Smiling nervously she couldn't help but be reminded of her father suddenly.

Glass breaking, blood splattering the floor. Angry voices, screaming and yelling, daddy coming after her again with that bloody bottle...Sucking in a breath she staggered back as she came out of her flashback. Throwing the wallet at him she made to take off only to have the bag snatched by him.

"Wait a bloody minute!" With a feral screech she turned and suddenly her eyes were lighting up like molten hellfire. It didn't matter anymore if this man would or wouldn't hurt her, if he was a friend or foe, her flight or flight kicked in with a flash of what felt like lava in her veins.

"NO!" She would take it to her grave that her words came out wobbly and petrified. The thought of what this huge man would do to her had her writhing in fear.

"Digger, let the kid go, she didn't do any harm." A gruff voice interrupted. Suddenly the man swung around...carrying her with him.

"Ain't done no harm? The kid pick pocketed me!" The man that stood before Digger was of average height and wore a parka. Samantha wasn't entire sure why as it was hell hot out. Or perhaps on second that that was just her...

"And?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow as if this was old news. The man growled and promptly dropped her on her feet. Staggering she fell to her knees for a second before scrambling back up. Whiskey colored eyes harsh as she spat angrily.

"Don't go fucking touching people!" Immediately both of them were looking at her with an odd expression. The unknown man suddenly smirked as Digger blew back up at her.

"Well ya shouldn't go robbing people blind, runt!" Sneering she scowled up at the man as the fear left her in favor of a fight.

"Oh that's rich, gonna give me another lecture on something else?" She snapped irritably, holding her hands open in a splayed pattern.

"Yeah, watch yer bloody language kid." He snarled back before stalking off, leaving her mouth open as she squawked indignantly behind him. Scowling at the parka wearing weirdo she scowled and muttered obscenities under her breath as she stomped off, trying to get rid of the feeling of people staring at her back.

Okay, so maybe I'm not so good at stealing things. She acknowledged internally with a grunt, "But it's a start." She whispered, pulling out the forty she glanced down at her bare feet and decided shoes would be a major requirement. Running off she completely missed the two shadows that seemed to fallow her.


AN:

Longer than the last one, what did ya'll think? Also, this chapter was inspired by 'Like That' by Bea Miller. I'd suggest listening to it, I love it personally. It seems to fit this character in my opinion.

Also, I want your opinion on side. Good / bad / neutral? And names, throw them at me. haha

~D.R. Out