Author's note: Chapter 7!
Freddie and Sam sat at the Shay's dinning room table, staring at each other purposefully. The two had hung out everyday since Freddie had learned she was staying across the hall. Usually, they just enjoyed the warmth of the friendly apartment. Right now, though, Freddie was hellbent on planning something else in their schedule. He honestly didn't care what they did, they could go to the mall if she wanted. He just needed to get her out of the house.
He'd seen that same almost fearful look cross her eyes many times over the past few days. As far as he could tell, she was oblivious to the fact that he'd noticed. Every time it happened, she would simply get up and go off somewhere for awhile. It wouldn't be long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, then she would come back in the best mood ever. It was incredibly confusing. He'd considered asking her about it a number of times, but decided against it.
He knew there was more to Sam than meets the eye. He'd learn that accidentally over the years. She didn't know this, but she revealed things about herself to him that, as far as he knew, no one else had ever known. Not even Carly. There were little things like how she hated lying. He'd found it somehow not hard to believe. If anyone would take the time to actually watch her eyes when she lies, they would see it. They would see how a wave of hurt took them over when she reached the tale's climax. Or see how she always turned around right after she told a lie, always shutting her eyes for a moment.
To a stranger or an acquaintance, he understood how they would miss small things like that. Carly was a different story. He had absolutely no clue how she didn't see it. He'd seen it only a few weeks after they first met. When you knew Sam, really knew her, it was hard to miss. You just had to know what to look for.
Right now, he could see something was holding her back. However, he didn't know what. He declared it his mission to find out. She'd been hiding something for a long time now, he could tell. And he had an inkling that it was connected to the current predicament they were in now.
"Come on, Sam! Your usually the one dragging me out of the house, what changed? Ever since we went to the Groovy Smoothie the other day, you've been determined to stay here. What aren't you telling me?" he asked. No sense in sugar coating anything. Not like she ever did.
She found herself wanting to tell him everything. She hadn't lied to him, hadn't hurt him in any way that she knew of. Yet she still felt an almost need to tell him. Tell him of the awful nights throughout her life when her mother had been drunk, creeped into her room and violently swung her fists wherever they decided to go. Tell him of the night, only a few weeks ago, when her anything left of her innocence had been stolen from her. Tell him of the day when they'd gone to the Groovy Smoothie. Tell him who she'd seen there, leaning up against the bathroom door. She'd glanced behind her, hoping Freddie wasn't looking, yet somewhat hoping he was. She'd turned back to the figure in front of her, an emotionless mask covering her face. Well, well, well, what do we have here? You miss me? John's voice had grunted to her. His arm was draped over a surprisingly young looking woman. She was by no means beautiful, but definitely prettier than her mother. She'd had a lump in her throat preventing her from communicating. Its okay, the ladies tend to get emotional for me. Why else would I keep more than one. You could always be one, sweetie he'd whispered into her ear, biting her neck sharply as he did. She'd jumped back, fully prepared to run. When he just laughed and left.
Yes, she wanted to tell Freddie everything, but how? How could she admit her fear? Admit the fact that she was honestly terrified to even place a foot outside of the apartment just at the slightest chance of seeing the monster again. She couldn't, she wouldn't do that. She was the strong one. She was Sam Puckett. Tough. Prideful. Stubborn. Fearless. She looked up at him to see he was waiting in anticipation for her answer.
"I-I just don't want to, okay? Drop it," she stuttered, "please" she added with a whisper. She hadn't intended for her voice to sound so vulnerable, so weak. She cursed herself silently. He heard the hurt in her voice, the pure agony that was behind it. He would not press the issue unless it became necessary. He knew for a fact that she only said please when she was desperite, and even then it was unlikely. He quickly thought of a way to change her mood, smiling as he did so. "Tell you what, I'll run by RedBox, you can tell me a couple movies you want. We'll have a movie night. I'm sure Carly has popcorn in here somewhere, if not there's some at my house. You don't have to even get up." he told her as he got up, looking for his keys.
She felt an overwhelming sense of relief from his words. Without even thinking about it, she jumped up, embracing him in a short but meaningful hug. "Thank you" she whispered into his shoulder. He was startled at first, but quickly returned the gesture, smiling at her obvious gratefulness. As he walked through the door.
It didn't take long to get the movies Sam had requested in her text. The remakes of both Halloween I and II, Nightmare on Elm Street, Freddie vs. Jason, Friday The Thirteenth, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and The Avengers. He'd laughed after reading the list. Typical Sam. Serial killers and super heroes. Not a romance movie in sight. As he drove back, he stopped at a gas station to get Reese's, Skittles, and Fatcakes. Sam's favorites.
When he walked through the front door, he saw Sam sitting on the couch smiling widely, her uncharacteristic good mood returned. He was about to antagonize her about it, when something caught his eye. All along both of her sleeveless arms, he saw dark spots. Some more purple and yellow while others were a reddish tent. It was then he realized that they were bruises. His eyes went wide as he rushed to her side, lifting her arm to inspect it.
"Sam, oh my god. What happened to your arm? Who did this to you?" he asked frantically. She looked at him, a grin still spread across her face. He saw something different flash across her eyes than before. Not fear. It almost looked like worry. Put her hands up and started shaking her head. "Wow, wow! Calm down, Benson. Nobody did anything to me. Don't be so dramatic." she told him. "Now, lets get to watching these movies. Its just now getting dark. The perfect setting. Who should we watch first? Freddie the pedophile, Jason the creeper, or Micheal the psycho?" she asked him playfully, not allowing him another chance to bring up the bruises on her arm.
He was about to argue, demand that she tell him exactly what happened to her. However, she was in too good of a mood for him to ruin. He sighed as he picked up the closest movie to him, getting up to place it in the Blue-ray Player.
"Welp, Micheal it is then!" she said cheerfully as she pulled her blanket over her body. She wiggled a little bit as she got herself situated, then picked up the pack of skittles and began eating them quickly.
They sat and watched the mentally disturbed boy murder half of his family, forgetting about the topic of earlier for the time being.
