Author's Note: There are no words to explain how much I've missing writing for the past—what 5 months. So sorry to keep you waiting! If you've even glanced at my story between February and now, I thank you so much, because lately, life's been busy, and I couldn't plop my butt down to continue writing this until now! Enjoy the show ladies and germs!

Disclaimer: I don't even have to disclaimer anymore. Most of us know and/or love Dan Schneider.

~~Sam's POV~~

Ugggh. Why is everything so blurry? I feel like my head's been over that taco truck, with the way the veins throughout the skull are pounding. I squint open my eyes, wondering if I'm on the couch at Carly's apartment, but no, I don't feel anything right now, except the liquid coolness underneath my toes, and Carly's bed is definitely not a water-bed.

Opening my eyes bluntly, I have to shade them with my hand because of the blinding light that forces itself upon me. Why can't I just go back to sleep, away from this mess of a place? Adjusting to the light, I focus to see where I'm at, but all I see around me is white, like a giant blizzard just hit, even though it's the middle of summer.

Standing up, I realize that I'm not wearing my usual shorts and Penny T, like I was from when I last remember, before I went unconscious. Instead, I was wearing a flowy white dress that only Carly or someone else girly would force me to wear. Instinctively, I search around to see if someone is here with me, but the whiteness still remains.

Cautiously, I take one step forward, and a long dock appears before me, not connecting to any land behind it, but instead beckoning me to walk forward. With nowhere else to go, I stepped one foot in front of the other along the wooden path, splinters just beginning to get stuck in my bare feet. Seriously now, no shoes? Where am I, a place full of hippies?

The wooden dock seemed to have no end, no signs showing that it would stop any soon. There weren't even posts on the side showing another segment of the path. Starting to get angry and frustrated, I began to stride forward, taking long steps and wanting to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.

Just as I took the next step forward however, I no longer felt sharp wood underneath my now blistered foot, but air instead. The other foot however, still remained firmly planted on the ground, saving me from falling into a lake of nothing. Heart pounding from the near death, I took one step backwards, thinking about all the horror movies I have ever seen and comparing them to now.

Bursting out of nowhere, loud voices saying things such as "Who do you think you are?" and "Why don't you just get out of here?" and "NO ONE LOVES YOU!" made my head snap quickly around to find the source.

There were no visuals, but I could still hear the voices. They were eerily familiar, but I made no effort to try and recognize them. My hands clutching my ears, the voices were just digging into my heart, making every inch of my body fill with pain, not just my head anymore.

Running away was the only option. Turing away from the endless sea of white, I ran as fast as I could down toward the beginning of the dock, thinking that there might be some sort of escape. My heart was pulsing in my head, making it throb even worse, and forcing me to clutch yet another part of my skull.

If I had to describe the feeling to anyone, it would be like running on a bed of nails, waiting to stab you at any chance possible. There was no tripping now. Again out of the blue, the dock ended and turned back into the white nothing, leaving me screeching to a halt and turning around again to the other dead end.

Once I reached the other side, what I saw made me drop to my knees. A motion picture had finally appeared in front of me on the whole sky, as if in IMAX for real life, showing me the people who had said these words. Carly kept saying "Who do you think you are" and glared at me constantly, shooting daggers from her eyes, making me feel like our friendship was over immediately. My mother kept saying "Why don't you just get out of here?" which wasn't just imagination, it was pure memory.

The scene of the flashback zoomed towards the day it happened: September 27, 2010. I was having an argument with my mother, something about how she always has to go around wearing a bikini to Inside Out Burger just because she thinks the drive through guy is cute.

"But you can't even see him! You only hear his voice!" I yelled at her on the screen, leaving me to watch in horror.

"Well his voice sounds beautiful! And shouldn't you be looking for a boyfriend yourself? You're sixteen for Pete's sake! I started having real boyfriends when I was nine!" She retorted, reminding me of her Puckett law.

"That's because you fall for every guy you see! Including the creeps, freaks, mutants, and weirdos! What happened to nice guys like dad?"

"I thought I told you never to mention the 'd' word in this household!"

"Usually mothers forbid their kids from saying a different 'd' word, and not just a simple word like 'dad'. Or should I change it to an 'f' word and say 'father?'"

"I don't even know how you're my daughter; no wonder Melanie is so much better than you! She doesn't act up like this!"

"That's because Melanie's a bland, no personality, over-working daffodil!"

"You have to insult your twin, huh? You know what, why don't you just get out of here?"

"GLADLY! I've got better places to be than this rat-hole!"

"I don't want to see you by tomorrow!" was the last thing her mother had shouted before the me in the film had stormed upstairs, packing everything necessary to go live at Carly's.

Now I was watching this whole thing unmoving, letting my jaw drop at some point in our conversation—which could be more of a screaming match than a conversation. No matter if seeing that hurt, it didn't hurt too bad, because I know we made up later after seeing that therapist. That was seriously the low point in our relationship however, and it almost brought tears to my eyes seeing it again. Almost.

The last phrase from before came swimming around my head again, driving me insane trying to swat it away. "No one loves you!" It was said in a slightly deep male voice that kept echoing throughout my brain, and this one, this one hurt even worse, and I knew the reasons. I just really hoped there wouldn't be a—

"Why? Why do I put up with you Sam?" Sure, there it is. The visual moment of memory back to the time only a few weeks ago, down in that alley between the Groovy Smoothie and Amazing Glaze, where I had just thrown a box of dead cockroaches found a few feet away at Freddie, hoping to get an amusing reaction. And it sure was. At first.

"Oh, lighten up, Fredpus. At least they weren't alive!" I lightly teased back on the screen, ready for our usual banter to begin.

"That's not what I mean! That's just one of the things you do to me! Just yesterday, you made me break up with Emily pretending to be my mother, and that really put it over the edge!"

"Fredward you really just need to learn to harden up. Become more of a man!" And with that, the me on the screen slapped him, forcing him to groan and clutch his cheek in pain.

I slightly smirked on screen, happy to help begin the process of toughing him up, but the me watching this from the dock was just watching terrified, because I knew what was going to happen any minute.

"Sam?" Freddie was just beginning to rise up to the challenge.

"What, dork?" And the past me was happy to oblige.

"You can really be such a bitch!" He began shouting, getting closer to me to emphasize his point. "I don't think you heard any of what I said before, and you don't even care enough to try."

He paused on screen stopping to glare at me with the most intense hatred, while I watched from the dock, tears threatening to spring behind me eyes.

"I thought we were friends, but I don't even care anymore. I don't care about whatever happens between us. I don't care if Carly still tries to make us friends again. I don't care about you," He sneered poking me in the chest on screen, while that Sam just watched, trying to keep her composure.

"No one loves you! You see why, because they hate the fact that you go past the boundaries. Oh yes, have you ever heard of them?" He added, seeing the confused look on my face on screen.

"So you know what? Don't talk to me; don't walk by me; don't even look at me, because I'm done." And with that, Freddie walked away, leaving me standing alone in the alley, heart hurting, gazing at the spot where he left.

Of course, if Carly hadn't made us apologize to each other, he wouldn't even have come on this trip. But yes, another slightly awkward apology was ensued, but no glue to seal the mark, unlike last time. Things have been slightly strange between us since. Whenever we look each other in the eyes, flashbacks come through, reminding me especially that the battle is not completely over yet.

The me on the dock sat there in silence as the sky turned yet again to white, leaving me with only salt-encrusted cheeks, and my worst memories flowing throughout my brain. There were more, too. My dad leaving us, telling my mom he'd come back, but secretly coming to Melanie and I and saying he's found a new family to love. Carly and I fighting on the window washer's platform, reminding me of one of the closest times I've ever come to death, and to make it worse, with my best friend.

A voice loud and clear came ringing through the air, asking me the dreaded question: "So what are you going to do about it?"

I knew exactly what I was going to do. I couldn't deal with all these hurt feelings anymore. They would be emptied out of me if I did this, flushed away. There would be no goodbyes, no teary farewells, because as it's already been stated, no one loves me. So oh well.

Rising up to my fate, I took a shaky step closer to the edge of the dock, taking in a deep breath, before scanning the white horizon once again, trying to muster up any courage left in me. If you're thinking: "Well there must be some good memories, right?" you'll have to realize this place only brings out the worst in a human, whether it be memories or present time.

One foot over the dock again, I closed my eyes, steadied my heartbeat and breath, then prepared to leap into the end. One second away from death, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.

With this one touch, I balanced myself back two feet on the edge, sliding my eyes open to now see that there was a gate in front of me, holding me back. The hand on my shoulder moved to my waist, turning me around, and bringing me close to the mysterious figure. I felt safe finally, not knowing who or what this was, but loving it all the same. The white around me no longer looked threatening, but fresh. Tints of blue were starting to appear underneath the dock and a sea green as well.

The comforting figure led me back to the beginning of the dock, not letting go of me for one second in fear I'd launch myself again. He then wrapped me in a tight embrace, squeezing me as if I were the last thing he'd ever see again. I slightly smiled, nuzzled in his sweet smelling neck, then pulled away, trying to get a glimpse of his face.

Seeing only little flecks of his identity, the mystery figure began to fade away, slipping away from my grip on the collar of his shirt, trying to bring him back. Slowly, my hands were fading away, as were my arms, legs, torso, and head until I was lying in a real bed, head comfortably rest against a fluffy pillow.

It was during this moment of serenity when I realized who had saved me.

It was Freddie.

~~Freddie's POV~~

I was beginning to doze off on the comfy chair next to Sam's bed at her Aunt Mitchell's lake house when I saw that she began mumbling in her sleep, meaning she was no longer unconscious. I immediately shot up, and placed a hand on her shoulder, slightly shaking her in hope she'd wake up. After all, it'd been two days!

"Sam? Sam wake up. Sam can you hear me?" I whispered close to her ear.

Finally she sighed and slid open her eyes, waking up from her 48 hour nap. I smiled, relieved that she actually did wake up and didn't suffer any brain damage from that blow against her head. I listened closely as she opened her mouth about to speak; hoping that what she was going to say was about how I heroically saved her from a watery grave.

"I want ham, Freddichini."

I don't think she suffered any brain damage at all.

Author's Note: Okay, it's about 1:30, I'm tired, and I just finished writing another chapter! Wow it feels so good! Next time, I won't wait another five months, but perhaps only a week, if I'm feeling inspired! Thanks so much for reading, and since I always say something random of sorts at the end of my authors' notes: Pet a llama, do the splits, and turn on a lamp! Word up! Peace out! (That was just weird…)