VII:

Their hands interlocked in a death-grip, her claws digging into his white knuckles as all their force clashed with each other; eyes engulfed with a fiery rage. He'd won the struggle, of course, and slammed her against the wall, pressed by her wrists. She was beyond done with this.

"What the crap is your problem?! Didn't your mother ever hug you when you were little?!" She shouted, "I just came to pick up my stuff now let me—"

"Oh my mother hugged me plenty, that's less than I can say for you." He retorted, slowly. Watching her eyes narrow carefully as his words sunk in.

"Ya wanna know why I'm so ticked off, Puckett? You think it's because you cried to me each night for almost a month, a God-forsaken month, all bent over on how Freddie killed—"

"That's not what—"

"Yeah, yeah keep lying to yourself like that! I was there. You didn't seem to think it wasn't true when he—"

"She threatened him if he didn't hand them over—"

"And now you just wanna make up and forget it all happened after your dumped your suckish crud on me right?" He taunted.

Glare.

"You're forgiving him." He reminded, laced with indignancy.

"I know."

"You make me sick!" Jonah's tone rose. "Know that?"

Sam spat in his eye. "How's that for sick you idi—"

Within a split two and a half seconds she felt her face twitching with a lingering, searing pain that crept into a slow migrane. Hot, erratic streaks of water slipped under her chin and dried white.

She didn't fight too much after that.

"If you're doing this," He practically hissed, "Because of that—"

He let a name roll forth at her, reviving her will to dying will to fight. Her arms shot themselves forward, lifting from his grasp and he slowly, against his force, let them hit the wall again.

"And I find you making out with him," He paused, "You're gunna wish that pretty little face of yours—"

That's when something inside her snapped.

Something old and something foreign; hesitant to recognize it as even a part of her anymore. It'd been ripped out of her spirit but its roots were still thriving; thick and wild, lit ablaze, a fire tended & concealed until now.

No more than a second or two later Jonah had a long, thin scratch on his forehead.

She ducked around him and fled for the door, arms sore and heavy. Body chilled with panic. The blonde raced towards Carly's apartment, footsteps echoing behind her, louder. She halted with the door slammed behind her, as she witnessed the argument that ended all she could've hoped for and that she'd been a part of.

*---&---*---&---*

"That's so stupid. I can't believe you'd actually get upset over something like that." Freddie interjected, as she'd attempted to reply and fiddled with a stray string on the beanbag instead. He felt a twinge of guilt at her silence.

"I mean, it was only—"

"Yeah 'it was only' Freddie. Just like it was only 'just to get it over with.' It's not like it meant anything, right?" The blonde quipped, bitterly.

"Exactly." He chuckled, unaware of her tone; "So you have no reason to be jealous—"

"I ain't fla-dishin' jealous okay?" She snapped, "It just surprises me how selfish you are. We weren't even together for two weeks, you up and dumped me, and somehow I still find it possible that you'd be making out with her not even a day later." His light-hearted smile faded, staring at her cautiously.

His eyes hardened into an advanced glare.

"It wasn't my fault Sam. Carly told me how happy she was that I got over you and, she kinda ya know… I mean I couldn't do anything!" He blared, frustrated. "What was—"

"You pulled away real quick like when Melanie did that." She growled. "Because you thought it was me."

His eyes seemed to pull back from ramming themselves into a furnace.

"She told me what happened that night; all her stupid girl gossip. You didn't think I knew about that did you?" No answer.

"She also knows about the first time it happened. Because someone," She paused, laced with agitation. "Can't keep their mouth shut and now it's all over the entire campus how messed up our lives are. Great work, snot-wad. And now you're off to college without a word to resolve it all. I thought you were better than that." She mocked coolly, heading out of the studio.

"If you would've just, shut up and let me speak for once." He growled; a small twitch infected her fists as she turned slowly to him. Freddie stood up.

"What's there to say? How hot it feels to finally win the girl's heart you've been graveling for after four years?" She questioned, shaking her head softly, eyes heavy. "The fact that, you're God-awful happy you can just, whisk your problems away while the rest of us have to stay behind, and live with them? There's nothing to explain. I wish my life was as cushy as yours—"

"It's not cushy!" He screeched, "And I don't need a she—"

Her hand whipped across his face before he could finish the impertinence; leaving a fresh, heated mark that faded gently beside his shock. Touching his cool fingers to it, he stared at her softly.

Her eyes were shining; fire of war died down and the ember-singed, raw circles around her eyes were glowing brighter.

The hatred trembled from her face; she was weak. Her eyes shook with fear of stronger backlash and she turned away, collapsing into the soft chair and huddling herself together, choking sobs, mentally urging him to go to his forsaken university and forget about them all.

In silence he left the room; lifted his suitcase and hoped he'd never have to come back to the war-zone again. Carly noticed his sullen, void-like look and rushed upstairs where a screaming match soon followed about the string of lies he'd spew.

"Sam what did you—"

Her eyes shot open, immediately sensing the cool chill resting on her face and the stickiness laden her hair and pillow. Sam panted, violently, attempting to curl her fingers on the heavy and pin-cushioned arm under her. She was alive.

And crying her eyes out in broken, softened sobs.

She hadn't realized how much she'd been doing that recently; and it bothered her to know that her younger counterpart would be either mildly confused at the sight or busting a liver watching herself wallow in a miserable illusion.

Strength came with age. Wisdom was also supposed to be some type of bonus for making it this far; but she'd had neither. Worthless.

Her scarlet-plated cell screamed Kelly Clarkson's ballads at her, nearly giving her another headache. Recovering from the startle, she gained what composure she could muster, swiped it off the side-table and flipped it open.

"It's four in the jerkin' morning. What could you possibly—"

Pause. Eyes grow to the size of dictionaries.

"Oh shut up, no way."

Oooh, the drama. :p

I was originally going to give you some more, but when I was editing this chapter I noticed how perfect of a cliffy this point turned out to be. ;) So, you'll have to wait. But this one should clear some things up, hopefully. Unfortuately Freddie left a few -cough- issues unsettled when he took off. Jonah doesn't seem to be finished with her, as of yet. Yikes. I'd so hate to be her right now. :/ Let's hope things clear up soon.