Okay, so before I begin this chapter I'd like to make a few points.
First, you will see why this story is an iCarly/Victorious crossover in this chapter.
Second, since homework gets in the way of my writing time and I had netball team practise today I have devised a little schedule of when I'll update my stories this week.
Tuesday- He Had it Coming
Wednesday- She Cried Black Tears (possibly, because I do have something to do tomorrow that will take around an hour, and then there's homework. And I have to type it up as well.)
Thursday- She Cried Black Tears (the most likely day I'll update it) and He Had it Coming
Friday- A NEW Victorious story and He Had it Coming.
All will be revealed on Friday why I'm rushing out this story. Until then, read, review and enjoy this chapter.
Oh, and the part of the story before the affair with the milkman isn't from Chicago, I just needed a reason for her to start the affair, so I picked abuse. Yeah, spoiler alert. Don't like don't read.
Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious, iCarly or Chicago. I wish I did, but I don't.
"Now, I'm standing in the kitchen minding my own business, carvin' up the chicken for dinner,
in storms my husband Wilbur in a jealous rage.
"You been screwin' the milkman,"
he says. He was crazy.
And he kept on screamin' "You been screwin the milkman."
And then he ran into my knife.
He ran into my knife ten times.
If you'd have been there
If you'd have seen it
I betcha you would have done the same!" June, Cell Block Tango
Sam
Sam had been married to Freddie for around three years. He was starting to talk about having kids. Sam wasn't sure if she wanted kids yet. Kids were a big responsibility and she wasn't sure she could handle that. Besides, she was starting to feel she really didn't like Freddie that much anymore. . .
Five months later
To say the Benson household isn't happy is an understatement. You could hear the arguing and screaming from across the hall. You could hear the music blaring as they shut each other out. You could hear the blows dealt. Every sharp sound, every agonising breath before the screaming started again.
Sam
Sam woke up one morning freezing. That meant Freddie had already left. Good riddance. She shuffled to the bathroom and examined the recent wounds on her face. There was one on her cheek, a great hand-sized bruise. She sighed in pain and grabbed her concealer, applying the makeup quickly and delicately. She'd had years of practise.
The doorbell rang. Sam put away her concealer and rushed to the door. Checking the time, it could only be Kenny, the guy who delivered their milk.
She opened the door and ran a hand through her hair.
I must look a mess, she thought. She hadn't had a chance to even look at her arms.
Kenny smiled at her uncertainly.
"Here's your milk . . ." he said. She must be bruised on her arms then.
"Thanks." she replied shakily. The last beating had really hurt. She was weak and letting her guards down. She needed to push him away.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked. She knew he'd say that.
"Yeah. I'm fine." she nodded. He still looked unsure.
"Where did you get those bruises?" he asked.
"Oh, those? I . . . fell. I'm really clumsy." she turned and collapsed on the couch.
He walked in and sat down next to her.
"Sam, I live downstairs. I hear the yelling. I hear . . . the slapping." he said.
"Kenny . . ." she protested.
"Sam, I won't sit here and let you be punched each night." he said. She looked into his eyes. They were caring, unlike Freddie's cold cruel eyes.
She kissed Kenny. He responded and Sam felt like crying.
Finally. Someone who cared.
Three months later
Freddie
Freddie Benson was in a particularly good mood tonight, a good enough mood to let his wife off the beating that came usually every night. He opened the door and saw . . . no Sam.
He checked everywhere. Finally he opened the door to the bedroom slowly, in case she was asleep. There she was, cuddled around . . . wait, what was that?
It looked like . . . another man. No, no. It couldn't be.
It was.
Freddie crept closer to look at his filthy cheating wife and that other boy.
He was utterly shocked to see Kenny the milkman. The milkman!
He would confront her tonight . . .
Sam
She was in the kitchen, carving the chicken for dinner when Freddie stormed in and headed straight towards her. Shocked, she put her knife in front of her in defence.
"You've been screwing the milkman!" he screamed at her.
She shook her head. "No. You're crazy Freddie!" she said, hoping she wouldn't see through her lie.
"You have! You've been screwing the milkman!" he screeched.
"No, I haven't! Shut up!" she yelled back at him.
"You have! Admit it, Sam!" he said smugly.
She finally lost her temper. Unaware of what she was really doing, she stabbed him.
He looked down, stunned. She was also dazed, staring at the blood trickling down from his stomach.
"Sam . . ." he murmured.
She stabbed him again to shut him up. And again and again and again.
After ten stabs she looked down onto his dead body. She kissed his cold lips.
"Goodbye Freddie." she whispered.
Later
Just when everything seemed to be going swell, the law caught up with her. As usual. Officer Harrison was an old friend of hers from her Juvie days.
"Sam, Sam, Sam. Why?" he asked, nursing his coffee mug.
"I . . . he . . . he had it coming." she said at last. She didn't want to explain the abuse to him. It wouldn't make a difference. The bastard was dead.
"Why do women always say that?" he cried to no one in particular.
"So. . . Am I going to Juvie again?" she asked hopefully. Sam was twenty-five. That was still young, right?
"Oh no. No, Sam, we're taking you straight to jail."
"Seattle?" she asked, hoping to see her cousin and uncle.
"LA." he said. Her face fell.
The next day
Sam
Sam looked around the canteen of the jail in LA. The girls wore drab grey uniforms.
"Sammie?" said a shy voice from behind.
Sam tensed. Only one person had ever called her that. She turned round.
A girl with hair the colour of red velvet stood there, looking too innocent for prison and slightly nervous.
"Cat?" she asked. "What the hell are you doing in jail?"
"I poisoned my boyfriend." she giggled. "You?"
"I stabbed my husband."
"Cool. Come with me, Trina wants to see you." Cat said.
"Trina Vega? She's here as well. Are all the girls from Hollywood Arts here?" Sam said.
"No, that would be really weird. It's just you me and Trina." Cat lit a cigarette.
Sam grinned. Jail was OK. Besides, it's not like they'd hang her, right?
OK, crappy chapter, bad ending, if you want me to rewrite this I'll gladly do it. The next one will be better. Sam and Freddie are both OOC, sorry, and also if Cat was OOC in the last chapter then sorry as well but whatever really.