Once again, hello. I hope everyone is well. You should all be excited, because soon the true plot will be revealed (although there are many hints in this chapter)! I hope the last chapter wasn't too off-setting, but it's important that you pay attention to Sam, because she holds the key to the story.
Be sure you remember, once everything comes together, you will have to re-read the whole story from the start to understand it. Sorry if that's inconvenient (:
On our way back to the loft, Sam seems to be a bit in a hurry. She's scratching her skin and squinting and I'm wondering if the Sun is hurting her eyes.
"Are you okay, Sam?" I ask handing her a pair of sunglasses from my bag, which she accepts gratefully.
"Yeah, I'm cool, it's just so bright out," she dons the shades and smiles at me in her usual way that leaves me unable not to smile right back.
It's not really that bright out, but I choose not to argue with her over something as trivial as sunlight. "At least it's not raining," I muse out loud. "Do you want to stop at Groovy Smoothie?"
"Not really, I just wanna get inside ASAP, you know?"
I nod in response as we get nearer to Bushwell Plaza. I can't say that I'm not glad to be home after the long day I've had at school.
As we tip toe passed Lewbert and ride the elevator up, Sam seems to relax considerably. I'm assuming it's because we're growing closer to my house, thus closer to ham.
"Carly," Sam addresses me, and she's looking at me with eyes like I've never seen. Her usual blue pools were a swirling tornado of blue and gold, it seemed. Her entire look and demeanor seemed to be tinted by something strange.
"Y-yeah?" I manage to croak out, thoroughly awestruck by her gaze.
"You wouldn't mind if I slept over tonight, would you?" she asks, and when she blinks, the storm of color is replaced with her usual deep blue.
"Of course not," I say, confused. Maybe it was all in my imagination?
"Cool," Sam says, stepping off of the lift. "I'm starving,"
"As usual," I smile at her and open the door to the loft. "So, you gave Guinevere another look," I begin casually as I grab an apple off of the counter and eye her as I rinse it.
"She probably just pissed me off," Sam shrugs and looks through the fridge and suddenly she doesn't seem so hungry anymore because she's not drooling or grabbing the food like it's the last on Earth as she usually would.
"No, this look was more of an 'I want to devour you' look," I say, smiling at how Sam appears to be disgusted, because it comforts me somehow.
"As if," Sam shoots back, popping open a soda as she began to fix herself a sandwich.
"Oh yeah?" I ask, catching Sam off guard. "You still haven't told me what happened between the two of you," I look at her accusingly.
Sam just shrugs and before she can open her mouth to talk, her phone begins to vibrate and sing to the obnoxiously addictive tune of 'Hate (I Really Don't Like You)' by The White T's, signaling that Sam's semi-estranged twin Melanie was calling her.
The look on the blonde's face read of immeasurable annoyance as she answered with a sharp: "What do you want?"
I watch her expectantly, curious as to what Melanie could be calling for, seeing as to that her and Sam hardly ever speak, even when they are on speaking terms.
"Oh, you heard." Sam's voice spoke of some mild disdain for whatever was being discussed. "Yeah, it's going well so far, but there might be some… trouble."
When I see Sam's posture go rigid and her eyes dart over to me quickly with what I assume to be her short patience, I can't help but be all the more interesting.
"Listen, Melanie, that's not even going to be an issue, capice? So, maybe you should just drop it!" Sam slams her phone shut and grips it in her fist. Then she releases it, allowing the cellular device to drop to the floor with an unceremonious 'ker-plank.'
"What was that all about?" I question cautiously.
"My mom got a tattoo on her butt and Melanie's flipping her shit," Sam says, massaging both her temples with one hand, and looking very stressed out all of a sudden.
I nervously rub one of my hands with the other as I cross the floor to my best friend. "Sammy," I whisper, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Don't get too worked up."
Sam relaxes against me and wraps her arms around my waist. A slow blush creeps up my neck and I feel her inhaling deeply into my neck. This wasn't exactly the type of embrace I had in mind, but I can dig it.
"It's hard not to," she confides. "Things have become so complicated lately."
"I understand. If you ever want to talk, you know I'm here," I tell her, rubbing her back slowly in circular motions.
"I know," she replies. "Hey, Carly?" she begins as she finally pulls back from the prolonged embrace. "I have to run home and help my mom apply ointment to her new ink. Is it alright if I go and come back in about an hour?"
Sam's eyes are pleading, and it's impossible for me to deny her anything, even though I'd like more than anything to have her here to keep me company. "Of course, Sam."
"Alright, see you in a bit, cupcake," she promises as she quickly rushes from the loft.
--
"That's the most fun I've had since witnessing a live birth," Sam's sarcastic voice rang through the loft as she entered.
"Aw, but you're such a sweetie for helping your mom," I say, even though I knew that comforted her none at all.
"As if," She scoffs and crosses the room to me. "Let's go upstairs," she suggests, pulling me gently off the couch by my wrist.
"Sure," I follow her up, and into my room.
"Do you have any Listerine?" Sam asks as she ventures into my bathroom. "I have a bad taste in my mouth, as you might imagine."
I laughed at the face Sam made. "Yeah, check the medicine cabinet," I instruct and plop down on my bed. I hear the sound of gargling coming from behind the closed door, and then the faucet beginning to run.
After a time, Sam emerges, looking a lot less unhappy then she has in the whole past day. As she crosses the room to me, she strips her shirt off and then her pants. "You're place is way too hot," she complains, standing in the near the bed in a bra and a pair of boxer-briefs.
"Boxer-briefs?" I question, eyeing Sam's superiorly toned body. She could honestly be a model and a professional boxer at the same time.
"The ultimate in comfort and support," she shoots back nonchalantly. "I'm borrowing a tank top," she announces unnecessarily as she pulls one out of my drawer and over her head.
I turn the fan on to appease Sam's unreasonable body heat and walks over to her backpack. "Sam, you're going to do your homework, right?"
"Uh, no." The blonde plops herself down onto the bed and covers her face with her hand. "Just wake me when you're done."
"Sam, no. You have to do your homework. Go get your backpack and bring it up here," I command and without even resisting, she springs to her feet and jogs downstairs. I smile to myself in satisfaction, and a few seconds later Sam returns with her bag. If I had known better, I would have said she didn't go downstairs at all due to how quickly she returned, but her backpack was proof.
"I guess I'll at least pretend to do it while you're doing yours," she says, and at least she's being honest about her intentions.
"Please do your homework," I command, more than request. I look over to her to administer a stern look, and my eyes catch on a long scratch-mark up the side of her left arm. "Sam, are you okay?" I ask, taking her arm in my hands and examining it.
"What?" she looks at me as clueless as can be. "My arm's fine," she tries to assure me, but I ignore her.
"What happened?" I question, and I have to admit, I guess I'm fussing over her a bit.
"The cat," she says shortly. "It's nothing, really," she brushes a hair out of my face and her gentle touch somehow reassures me.
"Okay. Just be more careful, alright?"
"Yes, mom," she responds sarcastically with a smile and I grin.
"Now, do your homework," I command again, returning to my Psychology textbook.
"Bite me," she retorts, but cracks open her math book anyhow.
--
Oh my god, it's behind me.
That's all I can think about as I run towards what I can only hope is the exit of the dense woods. I can hear it rustling through the trees only a few yards behind me, and it's slowly but surely gaining on me. I will myself not to trip, because if I do, then it's all over.
I wish Sam was here, she would know what to do. She would help me. I don't understand how I got here, but I'm here and I'm being chased by some kind of monster. I don't even know what it is. All I know is that it's behind me and if I want to live I need to keep moving.
I hear a feral growl sound behind me, and the moon overhead is full and looming in the sky, leering down at me; mocking me. It's so high up, it couldn't possibly have to worry about being chased and devoured.
Up ahead, I can make out the ending of the trees and once I get there I'll be out of this hell – that is, unless this thing decides to follow me.
Fuck.
I trip, in a very me-like fashion, and I'm on the ground. It's approaching and I'm dead for sure. I begin to cry as I hear its movements grow nearer and nearer and –
"Carly!"
I jolt awake and I see Sam hovering over me. I open my mouth to speak, but she clamps a quick hand over my mouth. Placing a single finger over her mouth to signal me silent, she carefully climbs over me and off of the bed.
Looking over to the clock on my bedside table, I see that it is nearly one in the morning. Sam opens my door carefully, and now that my senses have returned to me, I hear that somebody is rustling around downstairs in the loft.
I get up and crouch down to the floor, crawling on my belly towards the door that Sam had just slinked out of. I see her half-way down the stairs, and she's slithering stealthily like a snake on all fours.
She must have somehow heard me behind her, because her head snaps back to me and her eyes narrow into slits. Her arm waves for me to go back into my room where it would be safer, but I shake my head in refusal. I want to be here in case Sam needs help, even though at best, I would probably just get in the way. I just don't want to leave Sam alone.
Heaving a sigh of resignation, she slithers further down the stairs in a way that I wouldn't be able to mimic even if I were trained, and comes to the small landing at the bottom. Her head turns slowly to the left, then to the right and she gets up close to the wall that separates the kitchen from the rest of the loft and sidles along it slowly.
She's so brave, I think to myself as I see her pick up the broom stick that was leaning against the wall and whirl it around in her hand like a ninja with a staff as she jumps into the kitchen with a war-cry.
I hear a very Spencer-like 'oof' as someone falls to the ground and then shrieks like a girl. As relief washes over me, I stand up and walk into the kitchen.
"Spencer?" Sam inquires, seeing my adult brother curled into the fetal position and shaking.
"Sam?" he replies, standing and dusting himself. "You scared the crap out of me," he says with a large Spencer grin.
"Sorry," Sam replies, looking slightly sheepish.
"Boxer-briefs?" he questions looking both amused and impressed.
"Yup," Sam says, leaning the broom against the kitchen corner and running a slow hard through her hair.
"The ultimate in comfort and support," they both say in unison. I roll my eyes, knowing that this will only fuel the fire. Sam grins wide and points her thumb in Spencer's direction as she looks at me.
"See? He knows what's up."
I ignore her and turn to my older brother. "You scared us, Spencer!" I whine grabbing onto Sam's arm as my lingering fear dissipates.
"Sam didn't look very scared when she swung that broom at me," her retorts with a toothy smile. "Sorry I'm in so late, though. I was at the junkyard all day looking for old bicycles parts for my new mobile,"
"It's alright," I reply, turning to head back upstairs and dragging Sam along with me. "Night Spence," I call behind me.
"Yeah, night," Sam mutters.
"Night sis, night Sam," he returns as he walks towards his own room.
When we get up to my room, I flop down onto my bed and Sam flops down on top of me. "I'm tired," she drawls as she rolls off of me before I can push her off.
"You're my hero," I blurt out nervously, and Sam's eyes train themselves onto me with curiosity ringing through them.
"Huh?" she asks, confused and interest piqued.
"You would've risked your life for me if that was a robber or something," I say, shrugging and trying to be nonchalant, even though on the inside my heart was still pounding at the possibility that Sam would've gotten hurt to let me stay safe.
I gasp softly in surprise when I feel Sam's warm arms wrap themselves around me and myself being pulled close to her body. "Carly," she whispers in my ear and her breath tickles, but it also feels very nice.
"Sam?" I blush as I feel her grip on me tighten slightly. I feel safer than I ever have from the way she embraces me.
"I will always do whatever it takes to protect you," she breathes. "I promise you."
