Peak productivity. Thanks again, Lyssa (Broken Tourniquet)!
"So, Samantha, do you know why I asked you to meet with me today?" Sam blinked at her English professor from where she sat opposite of him, directly across his desk. She folded her hands neatly in her lap before she spoke.
"Honestly? No, I don't." The professor cleared his throat.
"Perhaps this will jog your memory?" He set a packet of papers down on top of his desk and motioned for Sam to take it. Sam immediately recognized it as her most recent exam when she picked it up, and spotted a big, red '100' in the top right corner.
"Okay…" she began slowly, "I'm guessing you called me in here to congratulate me?"
"How did you do it?"
"Huh?" Sam raised a brow at the professor.
"How did you cheat?"
"Excuse me?" Sam demanded, puffing up in indignation, "I studied my ass off for that exam! Don't believe me? Ask Lara, she helped me!" When the professor went quiet and didn't say anything, she went off. "Y'know, I know I really screwed up and dropped the ball at the beginning of the semester, but I'm not stupid, and I'm really trying, and for you to just sit there and accuse me of academic dishonesty? You're lucky I don't report you for singling me out!"
"Now, now," the professor cut in, waving his hands nervously, "I'm sure that won't be necessary-"
"Oh yeah? Try me." Sam crossed her arms and stared the professor down, tongue in cheek, until he finally deflated.
"Alright, you're free to go...I apologize for any misunderstanding on my part."
"That's more like it," Sam quipped before gathering her things and storming out the door. When she emerged into the main lobby of the academic hall, she was seething with anger. Why should she even bother putting in the extra work if that type of treatment was going to be her reward? She scowled and kicked open the main doors of the building, squinting against the deluge of sunlight that greeted her.
I should just report him anyways, she thought venomously as she began the trek back to Connaught Hall, that'll teach him. Consumed as she was with fantasies of revenge, it seemed as though it took next to no time for her to get back to her dorm. She turned her key in the lock and let herself into the room, stopping in her tracks when she saw Lara wasn't there to greet her.
That was right. Lara's gymnastics ban was finally up; she was back at practice. It was also a Thursday, which meant she also had work at the Nine Bells as well and Sam would very likely not see her until the next day. She shook her head as she set her bag down in her desk chair. She still didn't understand how someone could inherit an entire County and be so stubbornly determined to juggle a job, sports, and a full-time school schedule. Lara Croft may be a machine, but there wasn't a single piece of technology in existence that was meant to be running at full capacity twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Sooner or later, she was going to break down from the strain put on her components.
Sam set about unloading her laptop from her bag and setting it up. She figured that if Lara wasn't going to be around, she could make some headway on editing some footage for class. Or maybe she could put some work in on her music? It had been a while since she devoted any meaningful time to her other hobby. Her phone went off, and she looked at the screen to see that her mother had texted her.
Oh great, this should be good, she thought to herself as she unlocked her phone to see what the woman had to say.
Samantha, can you please call your father back? He just wants to talk. Sam scoffed. Why was it the only time her mother could be bothered to contact her was when it concerned her father?
Leave me alone, you stockholm syndrome gaslight, she replied, slamming her thumbs down on the screen with every letter she keyed in. Let her mother reply to that.
Are you at least coming home for the holiday? Her mother texted back a few minutes later. Sam slammed her phone down on her desk with an exasperated screech. Why couldn't those people leave her alone just once? No. No, she was not going to let them get to her and stress her out. Not this time.
She rifled through her backpack and pulled out her song notebook and a pen. She took a seat and flipped the book open to a new page, ripping the cap off her pen with her teeth. She sat there for a moment or two, moving the cap back and forth between her teeth pensively while her pen sat poised just above the lined paper. With a stroke of inspiration, her hand began to scribble across the page in a manic fervor.
I put a smile on my face,
how else do I keep myself safe?
Anyone can see
the stress you put on me.
I may bend but I won't break
playing along with these charades.
.
You got me under lock and key,
when you gonna set me free?
Trapped in a cage begging for escape,
tossed around and buried away.
.
I'm not free to be myself
when I'm stuck in this living hell.
You ask to be forgiven,
I follow my intuition.
I'm tired of this deceiving
so I'm packing my bags and leaving.
.
You got me under lock and key,
and you have me down on my knees.
Trapped in a cage begging for escape,
tossed around and buried away.
Sam paused. The chorus was good, and the verses seemed to flow well and have consistent syllable counts. All that was left was a bridge before the final chorus. But what was the bridge going to be? She frowned and ground the butt of her pen into her forehead as she continued to absently play with the cap with her teeth. She had the main message to the song, she just needed to wrap it all together neatly. Unfortunately, the bridge was always the part she had the most difficulty with.
But there was someone who might be able to help. She took the pen cap out of her mouth and set the pen down before picking her phone up from where it lay and dialing Molly's number. She picked at her nails absently while she waited for an answer.
"Hello?" Came Molly's cockney brogue from the other end of the line.
"'Allo, guv'na," Sam replied in her most cringe-worthy excuse for an English accent.
"Suh, dude?" Molly said in her worst drawling American accent.
"Remember how you said you'd really like to jam together?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I'm kind of working on something right now. A song. But I'm stuck on the bridge. I was kind of thinking of a post-punk, bluesy-type vibe with grungey undertones. Sound like something that'd be in your department?"
"That absolutely sounds like my type of jam. Come on over, I'm at my flat right now. The front door's unlocked." Sam heard a bubbling sound on the other end of the line followed by the sounds of Molly coughing.
"Are you getting stoned right now?"
"If you hurry up and get over here, maybe you'll find out," Molly said, "I'll see you in a few?"
"Definitely. See you soon." Sam hung up, shoved her notebook back into her backpack, and grabbed her guitar case. With everything in tow, she began the trek to Molly's apartment. Pesky clouds had moved in the way of the sun's brilliant luster since she'd last been outside, but it was still a lovely, temperate day nonetheless; a nice change from the usual dreary fall weather. She stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the passing traffic to clear. As she did, she spotted a dad giving a piggyback ride to his guffawing daughter a ways down the street. Sam gave them a small smile before letting out a soft sigh. She looked both ways to make sure the road was clear before crossing.
A little over five minutes later, she made it to Molly's apartment and let herself in. Sure enough, the all-too-familiar stench of the Devil's Lettuce greeted her nostrils and she smirked in amusement. What else was new?
"Hello?" Came Molly's call from the living room.
"Yeah, it's me!" Sam called back as she emerged from the entryway and joined Molly, who was in the process of packing another bowl for her bong.
"Are you partaking, then?"
"But of course!" Sam grinned as she set her bag and guitar down to the side, "And then we're jamming?"
"Duh," Molly said, passing the bong and lighter to Sam.
"You're giving me greens? I'm honored!"
"I'm honored to have the opportunity to finally make some music together. It's been a long time coming." Molly went to the corner of the room to retrieve her own guitar and took a seat on the couch to tune the instrument. A few hearty bong rips later, Sam was consumed by the increasingly familiar cerebral buzzing sensation caused by the weed and was a font of inspiration.
"So, about this bridge…" She began.
"Right! Can I see the song?" Sam nodded and pulled her song book out of her bag, flipping to the page in question before handing it over to Molly. Molly's brows knitted together in concentration as her eyes scanned the page. "Damn, who hurt you?"
"Far too many people," Sam replied darkly, "any thoughts?"
"Well, this song seems like a conversation, at least the narrator's side of a conversation. So maybe the bridge can be the narrator's final words to the other person as they leave?" Molly paused to think, "Maybe the first line could be something like 'No matter what I do, nothing seems to get through.' Really drive home the point that their relationship is out of the narrator's hands...that the fault lies solely with the other person, you know?" Sam nodded in understanding and motioned for Molly to give the notebook back to her. She rifled through her bag to find her pen once more and wrote a few lines down beneath the second chorus.
No matter what I do, nothing seems to get through.
I don't know why I should keep trying
when all you say is I'm not good enough for you.
"That work?" Sam asked when she was done, setting the notebook down on Molly's coffee table. Molly squinted down at the lined paper as she munched on some snack-sized pretzels.
"Works for me, then all that leaves is the chorus sung twice over afterwards. Now all we need is some music to lay the lyrics over, but given that you already have a sort of rhythmic flow to your words it shouldn't be too difficult. Now when you were saying post-punk, were you thinking something like-?" Sam's phone started ringing, and Sam let out a huff of frustration. Her mother, tired of waiting for a reply, was probably calling to harass her. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and frowned when she saw that it wasn't, in fact, her mother. She swiped right to answer.
"Lara?"
"Hi Sam," Lara's voice sounded strained, "are you busy right now?"
"I'm hanging out with Molly right now, why?" Sam asked, raising a brow in concern and glancing over at the clock that hung on Molly's wall. Lara was supposed to be working.
"Ah...don't worry about it then. I was just walking back to the dorm and-"
"Lara, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be working right now?" There was a brief silence, during which Sam's heart began pounding in her chest. Something wasn't right.
"There was an incident," Lara stated simply.
"Okay…" Sam said, her voice trailing off uncertainly, "you're kind of scaring me now. I'll meet you at the dorm, okay?"
"Alright." Sam hung up and turned to Molly, who regarded her curiously.
"Everything alright?"
"I'm not sure," Sam said as she packed her things back up, "listen, I hate to ask but...are you okay to drive me back to my dorm? It's just not like her to skip out on work."
"Absolutely," Molly replied without hesitation, "need me to carry anything?"
"I'm okay," Sam said, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders and picking up her guitar case.
The drive back to Connaught Hall was only a couple of minutes, but to Sam it felt like an eternity. The moment Molly pulled over in front of the building, Sam bolted out of the vehicle and dashed up the stairs to hers and Lara's room. She yanked the door handle down to let herself in, where she found Lara sitting on her bed with a rag held over her left eye.
"Hi," she greeted Sam meekly. Sam stopped dead in her tracks when she saw blood on the rag.
"What happened?" Sam demanded when she had finally found her voice.
"Late shift at the Nine Bells," was all Lara said.
"Yeah, because that's descriptive. Your fucking eye is bleeding!"
"It's not my eye."
"Let me see it," Sam said, grabbing her desk chair and moving it in front of Lara so she could sit down and better see the damage. Lara nodded and removed the rag, and Sam let out a hiss between her teeth when she beheld the gash that ran up through her eyebrow. She could see the parted flesh and sinew as blood poured out from in between. "Jesus Christ!"
"Is it really that bad?" Lara asked as she replaced the rag over her eyebrow.
"You need stitches...how the hell did you get that? And don't you dare tell me 'late shift at the Nine Bells' again!"
"There was a fight. Wilson and I had to break it up. There was some broken glass involved." Lara looked up at Sam pleadingly with her right eye, "Please don't make me go to the hospital."
"You need stitches. Even with proper medical treatment that's still gonna be a nasty scar."
"I don't want a needle that close to my eye."
"Hey, you forgot your things in my car- whoa," Molly entered the room carrying Sam's guitar and bag, stopping mid-stride when she beheld the bloodstained rag over Lara's left eye, "yikes."
"Sorry about that," Sam said with a grimace, "any chance you could take us to the hospital? She had an incident at work and needs stitches."
"Uh…" Molly grunted with her mouth held agape before shaking her head, "I mean, y-yeah. Let's go." She set Sam's things down neatly in a corner.
"Sam-" Lara whimpered.
"No," Sam growled, "hospital. Now. No arguments." She grabbed Lara's arm and forcefully dragged her out the door down to Molly's car, forcing her into the backseat and getting in beside her. "Thank you by the way, Molly. I know this isn't how you were expecting to spend your evening."
"No trouble at all," Molly said as she slid into her seat, "besides I'm sure this wasn't how Lara was expecting to spend her evening either," Molly turned in her seat to face Lara, "right?"
"Not at all," Lara murmured. Molly turned the key in the ignition and pulled back out into the road. As she drove, Lara gently tapped Sam's thigh to get her attention.
"Hm?"
"Will you at least keep me distracted when they're poking around at my face?" Lara asked quietly.
"Of course." Sam gave Lara a small, reassuring smile and gently squeezed her knee, "how bad does it hurt?"
"Now that the adrenaline's worn off? Terribly."
"Hey, I bet that scar's gonna look totally hot and punk rock though!" That was enough to draw a reluctant chortle out of Lara. They arrived at University College Hospital shortly after, and Lara and Sam both exited the vehicle. While Lara walked into the emergency room to get herself checked in, Sam motioned for Molly to roll down her passenger side window. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to, you've already done a lot."
"You'll let me know if you need a ride back?" Molly asked.
"Yeah of course, we'll probably just catch a cab home though. Thank you again, I really appreciate the help."
"Anytime, let me know how everything goes and when you get back." They exchanged a farewell wave and Sam entered the emergency room after Lara. She found her roommate sitting far away from everyone else in the corner of the lobby, her leg bouncing nervously. She appeared to relax a little when Sam took a seat beside her.
"You really don't like hospitals, do you?"
"Not at all," Lara said.
"Why, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Because you only go to the hospital when something's wrong. That's why they exist. All of these people have medical problems that constitute an emergency."
"Huh." Sam blinked. "That's...an interesting reason. I thought you would've disliked hospitals because they're expensive." Lara stared at her, "What?"
"Maybe in your country with its barbaric policies. Residents of the U.K. don't pay for their medical care. Everybody contributes to the NHS through taxes and national insurance payments."
"Lara?" A doctor called out into the lobby before their conversation could continue. Lara and Sam both followed the doctor back to a room, where Lara took a seat on the bed.
"Is it okay if I move a chair next to her?" Sam asked.
"Of course," the doctor replied as she examined her clipboard. Sam pulled a chair over from the corner and took up her post by Lara's side. "Okay. Eyebrow laceration, no damage to the orbit and globe space. You say this happened at work?"
"Yes."
"If we could just remove this rag and take a look…" the doctor's voice trailed off and she clicked her tongue a few times when she beheld the wound, "that's going to need stitches, alright. Hang tight, I'll be back in a bit." Lara and Sam both sat there together in tense silence, during which Lara's nervous leg-bouncing resumed once more. Sam raked her mind for a way to keep Lara occupied.
"So I totally killed my literature exam, by the way."
"You got your score already?" Lara asked with her good brow raised, all previous signs of anxiety gone in an instant.
"Oh yeah, see the professor thought I cheated because I got a perfect. We had a little chit chat today."
"You're kidding," Lara said as the doctor returned with some supplies.
"Nope!" Sam said, taking Lara's hand as the doctor began cleaning the area around the wound.
"So what happened?"
"I chewed him out and made him apologize. By the way, you might get an e-mail from him because I told him you helped me study and he might want to follow-up." Lara let out a small, amused snort.
"Of course...I'm glad you did well, though. I knew you could do it." She inhaled sharply through her nose and squeezed all sensation from Sam's hand as the doctor numbed the injured area of her face with a syringe. "Sorry."
"You're fine," Sam gave Lara her best smile in spite of how much her hand was cramping up and screaming at her. The doctor waited a few moments before continuing, at which point Lara's left brow had gone noticeably slack.
"How was your day outside of that?" Lara asked, visibly trying her hardest to ignore the needle that was right by her eye as the doctor closed the wound.
"It was okay. My mom was annoying me again."
"You still haven't talked to your family?" Lara asked incredulously.
"Not yet. I'll get to it when I get to it. Who knows, maybe the longer I wait the more my dad will cool down and not wanna completely disown me?"
"You know him better than I do," Lara replied dryly.
"But hey! I wrote a song today!" Sam added.
"Oh yeah?"
"That's actually what I was doing with Molly today. We were gonna start the actual music when you called-not that I'm upset with you of course."
"You'll have to show me when you're finished," Lara said as the doctor finished what she was doing and took a step back.
"Speaking of being finished," the doctor cut in, "you're free to go, my dear. Try to avoid any further work incidents, yeah?"
"That's it?" Lara asked, "I mean, great! Thank you. Really." They walked out of the hospital together once Lara was discharged, hovering around the entrance while Sam called for a cab. When she had given the man on the phone their location and hung up, Sam looked up at Lara's face and scrutinized it.
"You know, it really isn't that bad. You could totally rock that look!" Lara's only response was to roll her eyes with a smirk, "What? I'm serious!"
"If you say so." She appeared to hesitate before continuing, "Thank you, by the way,"
"For what?"
"For sitting with me."
"Isn't that what friends are for?" Sam asked. Lara shrugged, and she continued, "You know, you've had a pretty shitty day. Why don't we make some tea when we get back and eat those jaffa cake things you like and watch some Animal Planet?" Lara smiled at her.
"I'd like that."
Ever wondered why reboot Lara had that eyebrow gap in her 2013 concept art? Well, here you go. Now you know what happened. Wolf's got nothing on a broken bottle amirite?
You can find me under these usernames/handles on the following sites (please note the change to my Twitter handle):
Twitter: AEShumock
AO3: WhatTheSchmuck