The Quiet Scream
a Seddie fanfiction
by Emma


Summary: He's there. Then he's not. Am I going insane? Is life torturing me? The only thing I know, is that I'm afraid to admit I might be crazy. Because if I'm crazy. They'll take him away.


Chapter Twelve
Day 10

I had a dream that night, that I was running. Running in darkness, the only thing I could see was myself. I was crying, and screaming, only I couldn't hear what I was screaming. It was like I was deaf.

There was something after me, I wasn't quite sure what it was, but out of the darkness came a giant grey hand, the fingernails grimy, and dirty, filled with mud, dirt, sticks, and the most grotesque of all. . .human body parts.

Just as the monster was about to come out of the shadows, I screamed, – this time I heard it. Loud and clear, an ear-piercing shriek. A sound that could break anything, a window, a mirror, a wine glass, your ear drum. Then, I woke up.

I was sweating really hard, I felt as if I was soaked. That nightmare, was really freaky. What was with that grey hand? With the – I gulped – dead bodies in it? Were they even dead? I thought one or two may have twitched. Gross.

I looked around the room I was in. Carly's room, so I had slept over at Carly's in the alternate universe too. Or whatever this other world is called, where Freddie is alive. Or . . . alive-ish or whatever.

Speaking of Freddie, I was still completely freaked out, about our Ouiji-conversation the night before. The thief – or un-thief since he really didn't steal anything . . . other than a picture. The un-thief, is important. Important in what though? I could've of asked that question though . . . because it's not a "yes" or a "no."

After I had gotten the strange answer from Freddie, Spencer had burst into the room, wondering why I even needed the Ouiji board. I couldn't tell him that I was talking to Freddie, so I lied. I told him that I was just fiddling around with it. Spencer didn't believe me, said that I knew better than to play with a board that can contact spirits. So I made up a new lie, I said that I was trying to contact my grandmother's dead parrot. Spencer shrugged – believing me – and left.

I decided I had to leave then, so I quickly said bye to Freddie and packed away the Ouiji board. Then watched Girly Cow for the rest of the day. Silently, flipping out.

I slipped out of Carly's bed and walked downstairs. Carly was down there, cooking food. Like, eggs, and ham, and other breakfast-y foods. It smelt good . . . really good. Though at the same time, it made me sick to my stomach.

"Hey Sam," Carly said, as she saw me come around the corner, "Good morning to you, the ham and eggs are ready, I already put some on the table for you."

Suddenly, I did feel sick to my stomach, and the next thing I knew, who-knows-what was upchucking out of me.

"Oh my God!" Carly cried, running over to me, "Spencer!" she yelled.

Spencer came bounding out of his room, "Woah – whaa?" he called, then he saw me, and ran somewhere else.

Spencer appeared again with a bucket, and held it under me, just as the throwing up was gone.

Carly and Spencer helped me over the puddle of sick now on their floor and lied me down on their couch.

"God, Sam, are you okay? You were perfectly fine yesterday," Carly said, feeling my forehead, "You don't have a fever," she mumbled.

"Sorry . . ." I whispered, "I don't know what happened."

Carly smiled at me, "It's fine, Spencer will clean it up."

"Aw man!" I heard Spencer whine softly from the back.

Carly smirked, "Just watch some Girly Cow, I'm going to dispose of the breakfast," she said standing up.

I nodded and reached for the TV remote, just as the door opened, and Freddie walked it. He saw the pile of upchuck, and his nose wrinkled.

"What happened here?" he asked.

"Sam threw up," Carly expalined, as she started scraping the breakfast into the trash can.

Freddie glanced at me quickly, then rolled it eyes, "Smooth, Puckett," he said.

I looked at him confused for a second, but then I realized, we "hated" each other in this world.

I gave him my best death glare, "Shut it, Freddith." I snapped.

Freddie walked over behind the couch, then whispered in my ear, "Are you okay?"

I nodded quickly.

"Well, your house hasn't been broken into here."

Once again, I was confused. Why would he tell me that? Then I would be alone at my house, sick, and . . . . Oh. Freddie wanted to talk to me. Alone. So I had to leave.

"Carls, I think I'm just going to go home, and lie down there," I said starting to sit up, and find my shoes at the side of the door.

"What? Sam, no you're sick, you should have someone look after you!" Carly insisted, starting after me.

I shook my head, "I just need to sleep, really Carly, I'll be fine. All I need is sleep."

"How will you get home? You can't take the bus, I could drive you, but–"

"–I'll drive her!" Freddie suddenly says.

Carly stares at him as if he's crazy, "You? Why would you of all people want to be giving Sam a ride? You guys hate each other."

Freddie hesitated, obviously thinking of an excuse, then he starts to ramble, "Well I have to go . . . to a place, where they sell things I need, and it just happens to be on the way to Sam's. So I could give Sam a ride, so you don't have to kill the earth, and waste gas. Instead I'll kill the earth and waste gas, so I can go to the place where they sell the things I need and–" I nudged Freddie, "–I mean, yeah, I'll give her a ride." he finished.

Carly looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "Well, alright. Just don't kill each other." she says.

Don't have to worry, Carly, he's already dead.

I finished putting my shoes on and then walked out the door, Freddie soon following behind me. He grabbed my arm, and pulled me out to the fire escape. Oh God, the fire escape.

I shifted my feet uncomfortably, "So . . . I don't know, speak." I said.

Freddie sighed, "I have no idea what to say."

My eyes widened, "Why did you make me leave, then?" I snapped at him.

"I didn't make you leave, you left on your own!" Freddie countered back, with his own fire-y tone.

"Yes, but you knew if you told me that, I would catch on – and then leave! So you have to be the one to start the conversation, Fredner–. . ." My voice trailed off, and I found myself chuckling quietly.

"What?" Freddie asked, "What's so funny?"

"Us," I said, "It's like . . . it, never really happened."

Suddenly, I remembered a feeling I had only days ago. Quite a few days actually, and I felt . . . vulnerable. Like I wasn't safe. Like Freddie could . . . hurt me.

No, Sam stop it! He's Freddie, he would never heart you! I mentally-slapped myself.

Freddie didn't smile, or smirk, or even laugh quietly to himself about what I said. He didn't like what I said. Maybe it reminded him that fact that, he wasn't with us anymore, and he was dead. Was Freddie . . . sad to be dead?

"I might have told you too much yesterday . . . your yesterday," he murmured, "I probably even broke the rules by using the Ouiji board to speak to you."

"Rules? What rules?" I asked.

"See, that's another way I've said too much," Freddie mumbled, "I can't tell you. There are lots of things I can't tell you, because they would put you in harms way. So I'm protecting you, because I can't tell you."

I nodded slowly, looking at him, "I think you saved my life." I stated.

Freddie smiled, "Really, and how did I save your life?"

"You made me promise to go to school, for the first time in months. And when I do, my house gets intruded. If you hadn't told me to go to school, I would've been in the house when the burglar came into my house. Who knows what he would've done to me, if I was home." I finally finished, almost out of breath, because I had talked to fast.

Freddie stared at me wide-eyed, then he stared at the ground, like he was deep in thought. He glanced up at me once or twice, but then went back to thinking.

Finally he spoke, "You're smarter than you look, Puckett."

I shrugged, "Eh, whatever. Now tell me . . . why is the burglar important?"

Freddie froze, he stared at me, terrified, "That's one of the things I should've of told you," he said, "It might be dangerous for you to know. Which is why, I can't tell you, I can't tell you who the burglar is. It would mess up the time stream–" Freddie's eyes grew wide "–Wait, oh know! I shouldn't of told you that!" he cried.

"Why are you keeping secrets, what's so important that I can't know? If you told me, maybe I could help!" I insisted.

"I can't tell you!" Freddie yelled.

"Why not!" I screamed.

Suddenly, Freddie's face got very dark, terrifying, reminding me of that vulnerable feeling. His eyes got from a sparkling brown to something indescribably scary, his face dropped of any emotion he had later on, and said in a dark voice, that didn't belong to him, "Because you would die."

My eyes widened. What was he talking about, and what was with his face, his eyes, and his voice? He wasn't like a totally different creature. He wasn't himself.

Freddie blinked and then held his head, "I-I'm sorry . . . ." he whispered. He turned around, putting his back to me.

"Freddie," I said, finding my voice quiet, and quivering, "what's wrong with you?"

He turned around, and his face was sad, he looked as if he was about to cry, and the second I thought he would, he said something else:

"Only you can hear my quiet scream,
Because the blade has a incentive scheme,
The slayer is more imminent than you think,
Just promise me not to blink,
This is not a trance,
Just give love a chance,
Then maybe you'll see,
What would be."

I stared at him, in pure shock, "What. The. Hell?" I said.

Freddie didn't answer me, "C'mon, I'll drive you home." was all he said, taking my shoulder and taking me to his mother's car.

We drove home in silence, Freddie didn't want to talk, and I was too terrified to speak, let alone move. Once Freddie dropped me off, I opened the door to the car and stepped out, turned around to say goodbye at the least.

"Sam," he said, "I know you're busy, but can you do one thing. It's important." Freddie said.

I nodded.

"Do the interview, talk about my murder with Officer Ferris for the record. It's important, it'll help."

I was about to ask, "With what?" but I decided against it. He probably wouldn't tell me anyways.

Freddie looked me in the eye, his eyes were still scary, like something was in there, "I love you," he said. Then he drove away.

Life, is officially fucking creepy.


Authors Note:

Hey guys! Missed you! My vacation was AWESOME, and now I'm back, and I hope I'm not leaving ANYMORE. I have a few babysitting jobs here and there, but that's all.

Anyways, here's the next chapters, and while I was away, I got a BUNCH of new ideas to make this story (a) last a bit longer, and (b) be even MORE creepy! :D

I love this story SO much. :)

Love,
Emma