Chp 1

The last football game of the season, of Samara Emerson's Senior year. She was with her cheer squad, watching the high school team beat their rivals 24 to 17. It was the last play and the rivals had the ball. The timer was running down. The rival's quarterback reared back and threw the ball. Everyone watched the ball fly towards one of the running backs, but it was intercepted as the buzzer went off. Samara and her squad cheered along with the crowd. It was an exciting time. There was a bonfire to celebrate the win in a barren field near the school. Samara was going to go, but her brother Michael was going to pick her up from the game.

Michael was the oldest by almost two years. His twentieth birthday was coming up soon, and the family was going to celebrate it before Michael left for Community College. He was going to study to be an auto mechanic. When the family vehicles needed work done, Mike was the one to do it. So he planned to finish his education to be a mechanic at the nearby shop in Phoenix. Michael didn't plan to move too far from home. His relationship with his parents is tolerable at best. It's Samara he's wanting to stay near. She isn't treated very well by either parent. Their dad, Bradley, only pays attention to Samara when it is convenient to him. Lucy, the picture-perfect mother in public, but an abusive recluse behind closed doors. It wasn't physical abuse, no, never struck either of their children, it was berating Sam for not being good enough like her brother. Michael wanted to stay close in case Sam needed her brother.

Samara waited for her brother to come get her. She had put on her gym sweats over her cheer uniform. She knew he would be riding his motorcycle. Something Michael was proud of. He had bought an older Harley from a neighbor and fixed it up. The Harley was a heavy monster, and loud. Michael loved it. The freedom of riding a Harley, the fresh air whipping around his face. Michael was on his way to pick up his baby sister from his old high school when it happened.

A big rig hauling jet fuel had pulled out too quickly in an intersection. The truck driver had been on the road for a few hours but it was his third haul of the day. The driver was exhausted and didn't pay attention. The collision happened so fast. A motorcycle and its rider collided with the trailer hauling toxic, flammable jet fuel. The explosion was instant. That rider, his Harley, the trailer, and the big rig did not survive.

Samara had to walk home that night. She passed by the scene. Even with the fire being contained and the wreck unrecognizable, she somehow knew it was Michael's Harley pinned under that trailer. Sam tried to get closer. She needed to be sure. She needed to see. She hoped…She lost hope.

Aftermath

Shortly after Michael's funeral, Samara's life has gone from tolerable to a living hell. The dirt wasn't even settled on Michael's grave when Lucy walked into her shared bedroom with her husband, only to find him and his secretary together in a sweaty embrace. The Blonde, big-breasted secretary, Julie, that he told her not to worry about. Brad didn't even try to hide the affair, he packed a bag and told Lucy she has until the end of Samara's Senior year to be out.

Lucy cried, drank, passed out, woke up angry at everything, and blamed Samara. Only for the cycle to begin again the next day. This cycle continued through the divorce, where Brad took everything but Samara, through to the end of the school year. Samara graduated with high honors, top ten in her class, but when she looked at the seats reserved for family they were empty. She put on a teary fake smile, waved at the audience, and exited the stage.

A week later, Lucy and Samara packed what little the both of them owned and left Phoenix to never look back. Samara didn't even get a civil handshake as a goodbye from her father. She stared out the window the entire drive from Phoenix to Santa Carla. Lucy had only one place to go, and it was the last place she wanted to go. Santa Carla is where Lucy grew up, in a strict home. Her father was a stickler for the rules as she grew up. Once her mother died, her father, Ethan, had mellowed out. He was waiting on the front porch for them to arrive. He was going to play a prank on them and play Possum but thought better of it. It was too soon to joke like that. So, he greeted them with a warm smile and open arms.

Pulling up to the old farmhouse, Samara could see the only person who really cares about her. He stood on the steps of his front porch, dressed in worn-out khakis, rolled up at the ankles, a bright Hawaiian shirt, a braided jean bandana, and a braided rat's tail. Lucy rolled her eyes at her father. Sam couldn't help but smile. Grandpa Ethan was a free-spirited person and it showed. Sam loved him and his eccentric ways. It was refreshing, compared to the drab style her mother wore almost every day. Lucy wore long summer dresses, with a cardigan over the top. She had different dresses, but the style was always the same.

Samara had her own style. Sure, she was slightly influenced by MTV, a mix of Beverly Hills and Punk. A strange combination of light color outfits strung with chains, leather bracelets, spiked cuffs, and high-top tennis shoes with colorful laces. Samara didn't want to blend or stick out either. So, she blended the styles she loves. Michael would always compliment her on how well the styles 'didn't clash'. Today Sam was in a white coverall with paint splotches, a bright yellow tube top, a pink leather studded belt, and white high tops with rainbow laces. No makeup, the Arizona heat wasn't very forgiving when it came to mascara. Sam didn't tease her hair like most. She preferred to plait it to one side, letting her dark blonde, waist-length hair fall over her shoulder.

That may be another reason Samara felt her mother disliked her so much, she looked more like her father. The only thing Samara got from her mother is her height at 5'6", everything else came from Brad. Except for her eyes. They were a bright blue, like Michael's.

Lucy got out of her truck, gave her father a tense (almost forced) hug, and then turned to order Sam to start unloading their stuff. Sam rolled her eyes at Lucy. She wanted a hug from her grandpa first, then she'll unload everything.

"Hey, Sam. How's my favorite person in the whole wide world?" Grandpa Ethan squeezed his favorite and only grandchild. "Hey, Grandpa. I'm okay. Glad the drive is over." Sam smiled in her Grandpa's arms. The moment was ruined when Lucy came out the door in a huff, "Honestly, can't do anything I ask of you. I'll do it myself." Grandpa shook his head at his daughter after letting go of Sam, "I'll talk to your mom. Go ahead and unload your things and take them to your room." Samara nodded her head and grabbed some of her things from the backseat and went inside the house. She could hear Lucy's voice rise as the door shut behind her, "Lazy…"

Sam set down the box of vinyl albums and the record player on her bed. Then dropped her backpack stuffed full of spent sketchbooks, new sketchbooks, pens, pencils, and some paints. It was a hobby she picked up after Micahel died. She wasn't that great of an artist but it was a means to express herself. Her latest painting depicted a shattered window, with bright orange flames burning through the wood frame and charring it black. The glass shards scattered around an empty bedroom with only a made bed and no other furniture. It was one of the hardest pieces to paint, but it felt like a small weight was lifting from her shoulders. Sam knew Michael's death wasn't her fault, but her parents thought otherwise. Especially her mother.

Speaking of Lucy, "Samara, get your butt down here now." Samara closed her door behind her and went to see what her mother wanted. Lucy stood at the foot of the stairs with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently, "We're going to the boardwalk, and we're going to look for jobs. Is that what you're wearing? Ugh, no time to change. Let's go." Samara followed Lucy out to her truck and they left for the Boardwalk.

Boardwalk

Lucy parked her truck and got out, before slamming the door she told Samara, "Find a job. Be back by eleven or you're walking." Slamming the door and walked away from her daughter to find herself a job before she could stop at a liquor store. Samara closed the truck after locking it. Thankfully she found a pastel tye-dye hoodie in the backseat. It was as presentable as she was going to get.

Sam walked through the crowded streets of the Boardwalk, trying to avoid being knocked into. Several different cliques made up the crowds on the Boardwalk. The punks stuck close to the music store, rocking out to whatever was playing over the speakers. The surf shop was swarmed with shirtless guys and different colored mohawks. They seem like the type to pick on the nerds and loners like Samara. Then there was a small group of bikers that kept to themselves.

She walked right past them. She didn't notice when the breeze shifted and her scent crawled up the bikers' nostrils. Sam didn't notice them turn their heads in her direction. She certainly didn't see two of them want to chase after her right then, but was held back by the only brunette amongst them. These bikers were standing next to their bikes, looking to pick up a quick meal when her scent hit them. They watched this lovely specimen walk right by them and not spare them a glance. Something they would have to rectify and soon. She is theirs, she just doesn't know it yet.