Here's chapter 3. Sorry it took so long, I've been distracted lately. Hope you guys enjoy and please review. 100 points to anyone that gets the Tool and Ellen Degeneres references in this chapter.

I can't really explain to you exactly what happened. I guess it's because I never really knew myself. It just kind of hit me all at once. I thought that I had gotten over it but, like all demons, it returned to exact its revenge on my backside for choking them back into the darkest closet of my mind. Not to make light of what happened, since it's in no way a laughing matter, but sometimes laughing is the only way to soothe a broken soul.

Midterms were steadily creeping up on us and I was steadily working my way towards the Guinness Book of World Records for eating the most Fat Cakes in one sitting. Not that I was actually going for the record, I was just really hungry. Mom had been up my butt all week about studying and I knew I had to, otherwise I wouldn't pass this semester with the usual dull colors that my grades radiated; just bold, black Fs printed on thin, pale yellow paper. I know, I know; since when does Sam Puckett care about her grades? Since Carly Shay became more persuasive in her attempts to make me care. I was all too stoked about actually passing the tests this year, mostly because I had a reason to. It seemed like I was finally getting my life on track. But, just ask anyone. Whenever things seem too good to be true, they usually are. Right? Well, my life hit a rock that completely derailed it; it crashed and burned to the ground.

It was Friday, the final day of midterms and the last day of school before Christmas break. Everyone was in a rush to get home and start their 9-day weekend. Students were packed in the halls like pickles, luckily, my classroom was right by the door, so I was able to slip out easily. I met Carly in the school parking lot by my vehicle, a 1989 Jeep Wrangler. Mom bought it for me last year as a birthday/you-just-got-your-license present. Of course I didn't deserve it, but it saved her from having to constantly be at my beck and call for rides. I was thankful for it. My mom and I had a pretty decent relationship, contrary to popular belief. We were friends of sorts, more than just mother and daughter, which opened up the door for talking about more than just school and "find a job".

"Hey, Cupcake."

I pulled her in for a kiss and threw my backpack in the back of the Jeep.

"How were finals?"

"Oh, pretty good. I studied my butt off, so I hope I did well."

I laughed, digging my keys out of the pocket of my jeans.

"You better have, otherwise all the time we spent apart studying will have been in vain."

I put a hand to my heart to show my feigned distress.

"You better have passed, otherwise you're not getting your special Carly treatment."

I straightened my brow.

"Hey, I studied reeeeaaaalllll hard for these stupid tests. If I didn't do good, then I'm having Freddie hack into the school's grading software again. Mama's not going to summer school this year."

She giggled at my heroism as she climbed in the passenger side. I cranked up the old piece of scrap metal and turned the radio on. Cuttlefish's "Longeralis" was on, Carly's favorite song of theirs.

"Speaking of, there's a concert in Bellevue next week. Wanna go?"

"Well..."

"And you can't say 'No.' Because I already got the tickets."

I smirked and tapped her on the leg.

"Then...yes!"

"Good. Now I gotta get home, my mom needs my help with somethin'."

After dropping Carly off I went straight home, the scent of her perfume still fresh in my nose. Ah, I was crazy about her. It's imperative that I tell you this, because, in order to understand our relationship, I have to reveal to you the soft, gentle side of myself. No one but Carly ever sees it. She invokes it easier than others can my wrath; it's puzzling, to say the least. But I don't even try to pretend to understand these things. I call it fate, and as far as I'm concerned, it's not in my hands. Carly, she understands stuff like this; she says we're "soul mates". If that's what you call two people that have an unimaginable magnetism toward each other at first sight being brought together for an unseen reason, then yes, we were "soul mates". All I know is that I love her. I'm not gay, not the least bit interested in other girls, but she's so different than everyone else. She's the one person that I feel compelled to be good for. She's the one positive thing in my life that trumps all the inanimate loves of my life: Fat Cakes, ham, video games, criminal activity, to name a few. So who cares if she's the same gender as me? Love knows no bounds.

I pulled into my driveway with such talented indifference that I barely noticed my mom's vehicle absent from its adjacent parking space. She should have been home by now, but I didn't worry about it too much. Probably got caught in traffic on the interstate. As I unlocked the door and made my way through the house, I noticed a note on the kitchen table.

"Sam, your concert tickets came in the mail today, they are on the desk in my room. Gone to the grocery store, be back soon.

Love,

Mom"

"Yesss!"

I galloped to her bedroom and threw open the door. The white Fed-Ex package was exactly where she said it would be: on my mom's computer desk. I yanked it from the desk, all too excited to rip open the thin cardboard and claim my prize, knocking off some papers that were beneath it. Normally I wouldn't worry about it, but I was in a particularly good mood today, so I bent down to pick them up. As I was straightening up the stray papers, I noticed something protruding from under the rug that was below the desk. I tugged at it, revealing a brown leather notebook. I raised an eyebrow at my findings. My mother had a diary? Curious, I opened it.

The next 10 minutes were spent skimming through page after page of boring "I like this guy but he doesn't like me" stuff and the occasional "my boss is an asshole", "school is hard", and "my parents suck". I went all the way through her high school life in a matter of minutes. The next 5 years weren't filled with much until some entries written in June of 1991 caught my eye. My mother talked about this guy she had been seeing and how he had been beating her among other unspeakable acts. She wrote about how she thought she loved him at first, but now hated his guts and was too afraid to leave in fear he might come after her. I stared horrified at the words scribbled on the paper. The entries stopped at June 28th and picked back up again on July 5th. This entry referred to a fourth of July party that my mother attended that apparently didn't end well. Her abuser had brought her with him and forced alcohol down her throat. She went on to confess that he "roofied" her, or as far as she could tell, and raped her that same night in an alley behind a bar, which is where she woke up the next morning. "Today," it stated, "I found out that I'm pregnant."

Now look, I'm no good at math, but this didn't take a genius to figure out. Melanie and I were born in April of 1992, almost exactly 9 months after this diary entry. We were products of rape.

Wow, so..yeah. A bit of a cliff hanger, huh? I know this story isn't exactly happy or anything, but that's not what I'm trying to do here. I'm trying to be realistic and bring out things that happen every day to people all over the world. Don't hate the story just because it makes you uncomfortable or because it talks about subjects that are generally taboo. I'm going for real life here…and I hope that you all can agree with me when I say I think I'm accomplishing it. Thanks for reading! Look for chapter 4 here pretty soon! PLEASE REVIEW!