iSuperwoman

Character Spotlight: Samantha Puckett

Two weeks ago, we found out. Last night, all his things were gone. He was always a bum. I can't believe I was stupid enough to trust him. Now I'm alone; pregnant, half-broke, and alone. -Pamela Puckett.

December ninth, 1994, in Seattle's Virginia Mason hospital, identical babies were born to an abandoned single mother, Pamela Winston-Puckett. Sam and Melanie; two perfect little girls with heads crowned with very light blond hair. The night the twins were born, Pamela held them close, swearing they'd always be in her life. It was cold that night. Melanie spent most of the time crying, needing her mother or one of the nurses to comfort her. Sam, on the other hand, stayed quiet for the most part. Once the girls were brought home, things began to change; Pam struggled to care for the two, Melanie stopped crying most of the time, and Samantha started crying more. The two remained at ease while in each others company, often resting their tiny hands on top of one another when they fell asleep on the floor. Nights were long; not for Pamela, who started taking alcohol as a tranquilizer about three months after her daughters' birth, but for the infant sisters sleeping in separate cribs.

Holding Sam in her arms, Pamela gently rocked the baby back and forth as she fed her from her special bottle. The blond woman smiled down at her daughter, who seemed to smile back; her shining blue eyes glistening under the lights in the kitchen. Once Samantha had finished her formula, she yawned, curled her arms inward near her little head, and looked at her mother with tired, weary little eyes. Pam caught herself falling engrossed in her daughter's glance, then snapped back to reality, and set Sam down for a nap with her sister.

Years passed, Sam and Melanie grew up, and things continued to change. Pamela started drinking more: drinking to fall asleep at night, drinking to stay awake in the mornings, and drinking to swallow the problems no one knew she had. The twins were young, vulnerable, and so afraid. So little held the girls apart, though Sam often had to be a mommy to Melanie. Melanie was the one who cried, the one who couldn't take it, the one who thought things would get better.

"Melanie, I don't feel good," the young blond girl confessed one day as she lay on the lightly ravaged couch in the living room of Pam's apartment. Melanie walked over, ignoring the Power Rangers fighting evil on the television, and gently stroked her sister's long, lightly-curled hair. "Just let me cry right now."

"Okay," Melanie complied before giving her beloved sibling a kiss on the forehead and returning to her fictional heroes. The little blond girl wished Sam didn't have to cry; wished she didn't need to be in pain like this...but what could she do?

She was so young; thought it was a tummy ache, thought she was okay; just sick. However, this wasn't the kind of sickness one can get over with time, sleep, or chicken noodle soup. Sam's young soul was weighed down so heavily with the horrid reality she had to call her life. It had been this way ever since she could remember; ever since Pamela starting drinking just alittle more than usual. Now, the poor child's body was falling under the pressure. Stomach pains were just the beginning; mild insomnia, nightmares, and an all-out bowel obstruction followed throughout the girl's childhood. Her own personal pains aside, the beatings that came all too quickly found another victim. Melanie was crying at night now. After the thrill of sleeping alone wore off, Sam proposed she and her sister share a room again; like when they were little. Melanie acted like she wanted no part of it, even though she did nothing to fight it.

"I just...I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Melanie tearfully confessed one night. Sam's arm protected the blond girl from the horrors of the outside world. Ten years ago, the identical twin infants slept in peace. "I don't want to be bad...especially to Mom. But, I mean..." Sniffling back her tears and pain, Melanie closed her eyes and silenced herself. Sam didn't let go; didn't give in. She never would.

"You're not doing anything wrong," the adult of the two sisters replied. It felt so wrong to go against Pam, but Melanie was the one who needed support right now. "Try to get some sleep, Mels." Melanie shut her eyes, wept to herself, and soon fell asleep in her sister's stronger arms. Sam, however, was trapped in the divide between nightmares and reality; between sleep and living in fear. But together, the two would make it through another night. Out of the corner of her eye, half consciously, Samantha saw something youthful fading. White particles floated throughout the air as old stuffed animals and books were eaten up by an unseen force. Too tired and mentally numb to truly notice, the child fell back asleep and forgot it all.

Falling onto the ground, sobbing to herself so only she could see her shame, Sam bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Pam asked, standing above the preteen, acting like a giant conquering a wicked Huntsman. She was so imposing, so set in her ways, and, most painfully, so hateful. "Well?..."

"Leave me alone," the blond girl snarled, refusing to face her mother. Sam felt another hot slap across her soft, near-raw face, knocking her back on her side.

"Watch your tone," Pamela snarled under her breath; her hatred spitting out of her words. "That's not how I raised you!" A moment of silence passed until Pam threw her arms down, shot a disappointed "tck" noise out of her mouth, and walked away like she had been wronged. Ashamed; ashamed of the abuse she had taken; ashamed of offending her mother so much, Sam lay still on the ground while Melanie hit behind her bedroom door, praying it would all be okay.

"Sam," the blond-haired woman said one night, her voice just above a whisper. "I didn't want to wake Melanie..." She was tired, groggy, and half asleep as she spoke, but Sam felt some sort of clarity coming from her mother. "...I know I'm a horrible mother, but I wanted to thank you...thank you for always being in my life...I love you. Both of you." Come morning, she remembered none of what she confessed to her daughter.

Brushing her thick, lightly-curled blond hair, Sam stared straight ahead at her pale complexion, taking stock of the scratches Pamela had left on her cheeks and forehead. Melanie walked over from her bed, waited one silent second, and finally hugged her sister tightly. Sam didn't move or look away.

Coming home to an empty apartment meant safety and peace. However, it also meant loneliness, silence, and a sense of emptiness. Finally, Melanie suggested going to the youth center. There, the two played tag with other kids all too much like them, listened to stories they were "too old for", and learned how to make friends other than their sister. Sam, finding nothing else that interested her, started taking archery lessons with a woman named Mia. Mia was, throughout brief lessons and momentary conversations, more of a mother than Pamela ever was.

While Sam trained with arrows, Melanie studied. Reading about American history, math, and science, the child came to learn that she had a great skill in most of her classes. Sometimes, she would take a break from her studies to "play bow and arrows" with her beloved sister.

"You wanna see something cool?" Sam asked one day. Melanie nodded, then watched the arrow shot by her sister sink directly into the red section of the sheet. Melanie clapped for her sister, who jokingly took a bow.