Author's Notes: Hello again everyone! Firstly, we sincerely apologize for the delay with this chapter. It has been finished for quite some time but the editing took longer than predicted due to a combination of needing to get the next ten chapters organized properly (you'll understand very soon why this is important and why it took some working out) and unforeseen circumstances. This two-part/sided arc is a bit on the long side, but steps have been taken to insure there is never again a repeat of the 'Solomon Grundy arc' for you, our dear readers. Nobody wants that! Lol
But what do we mean by that, exactly? Well, here's the basic version. There are going to be TWO separate story arcs happening on this day, November 6th, that will be shown with a chapter of one followed by a chapter of the other. There will be one deviation from this but we'll get to that when we get to it.
In the meantime, let's set this chapter up. This chapter is the start of a story arc focusing on Gwen interacting with a character that's been foreshadowed previously.
Now, before getting to the chapter proper, there's something we need to ask. We're not sure how to phrase this so we're going to be blunt…why aren't a lot of you reviewing this story!? Lol. Some of you are and we're beyond grateful for that but most of the readers who once reviewed this story had seemed to stop with the last few chapters. Its completely your choice if you wish to review this or not but reviews are very useful to letting us know what you like, what you don't like, and what areas might need to be changed or improved if they are failing to do their intended purpose. Without many new reviews it hard to know if we are still doing a good job. So please offer us something conveying your thoughts on this story's chapters! Lol
With that out of the way, please enjoy the twenty-ninth chapter of "Unbreakable Red Silken Thread": Chance: Unexpected Encounters Part I
Thursday, November 6th, 2014 (11:25 AM)
Gwen awoke with a gasp as her body jolted upright, lungs aching, burning from their need for air. With elbows resting on her knees and hands cradling her pounding head she did her best to try and collect herself. Sweat was pouring from her hair and skin, her clothes were soaked, but none of that registered to the young woman who was panting for breath and trembling in terror. It took her a few minutes just to get her bearings.
Then she found herself, and her typical indifference reasserted itself. As the white-hot flash of fear fled, the moroseness of tiredness grew, coupled with the irritation of annoyance.
'Goddamn it, Gwen!' she bemoaned to herself. 'Why the fuck do I keep having the same nightmares? I'd like to think my subconscious has a little more variety and imagination than just dark forests, hungry wolves, and pants-wetting terror!'
She didn't acknowledge it but there had been some deviation from the previous norms of her dreams, they were becoming clearer, sharper, to the point every detail lingered within her mind as if it had been an occurrence within the tangible normalcy of real life. They were no longer abstract hallucinations akin to dark and blurry water colorings. Also, unlike the previous dreams, the black wolf was nowhere to be seen. A minor detail. Less minor it seemed was the fact that this nightmare had taken place during the daytime, making it wholly and entirely unique. The brightness of the sun had not shielded her from the eldritch horror of the occurrence however.
Almost as though it had picked up where the previous nightmare left off she had been cold and covered in mud as she happened across a stream. But something had felt…wrong about the rapid drifting of clear water. Immediately she had noticed the total isolation of the otherwise picturesque scene. There was nothing alive within sight or earshot aside from the indifferent eyeless trees staring back at her. No birds singing, no bugs buzzing, no wind blowing, everything was silent.
She was completely alone. Which of course meant she must have been anything but alone.
Several long moments passed until she finally heard something from the thick tree line, though where exactly she couldn't say. On this side of the stream? The other side? The left? The right? Ahead? Behind?
She paused, straining her ears to try and pin down the source of the noise only for it to stop.
Eyes narrowed cautiously, she started walking towards the stream again, eager to wash herself off.
The sound returned, but stopped the moment she did.
Doing this a few more times and proving the same pattern convinced the Goth that she was being stalked. But by what? And to what purpose?
Her efforts had confirmed that whatever was following her, was behind her, and on this side of the stream. But she wasn't entirely sure where exactly. She remembered studying the stream, and determining it wasn't that wide. Only about thirty feet across, yet it was moving quite fast.
Did she dare to travel to parts unknown with possible, lethal danger as her only reward? This entire island was an unknown, she was already lost, but at least she knew what lay on this side of the streams dividing line.
From the back of her mind, she remembered something one of her favorite writers, H.P. Lovecraft, had once said. 'The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.' [1]
That was when she heard it. A sound she had come to know all too well.
The black wolf's howl.
It was soon joined by several more, other howls signaling where their callers were. Given how quickly they replied, they must have been from the other members of black wolfs pack, its hunting party. Each sounded similar but they were just different enough to pick out certain ones, some she had heard before while others were new.
The black wolf stood out however, the hunger and harshness piercing from among the others like a gunshot. The cry was close. Not too close, but enough to worry her.
But nowhere near as much as one of the other answering howls, this one from the tree line behind her. She knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt.
Not even musing on the irony that her fear of a recognizable danger was fueling her more than her fear of the unknown, Gwen ran for the stream. Her feet plunged into the chilling, rapidly flowing water. She could actually feel the warmth being sucked out of her flesh, and the current trying to knock her down so it could batter and drown her. Soon it reached up to her aching, meaty thighs but she pushed onward until reaching the middle of stream, where it suddenly dipped. With a frightened yelp Gwen was under the flow.
What gave life would now take hers.
All sense of stability was lost as Gwen tumbled through the powerful currents around her. She struggled to keep herself afloat, but each time she forced her head to the surface, slaps of white foam would knock her back down. Even so, she did not drown. She refused to let this be how it ended. Whenever her head was above the water and she refilled her lungs, she would catch sight of movement along the shore. Something was running along the huge rocks and boulders that constituted the shoreline.
She tried to catch herself several times on rocks and branches, but every time she managed to grab hold of something her wet slippery fingers lost their grip. Finally, Gwen's back slammed into a particularly large rock in the middle of the raging river, pinning her against the relentless current. Frozen in fear as well as the cold of the water, she was terrified as she finally caught sight of just what had been running along the riverbank.
It was a wolf.
But not the black one. No, it was much smaller, not quite an adult but no longer a pup. She almost mistook it for a large grey fox. Its fur was mostly grey but there was a red colored tuff around its neck, with its body between thin and slim, as was its face. Also unlike the black wolf, this one didn't come right at her, it simply watched from the riverbank. When it finally took a step forward, it stopped after its paw dipped into the freezing cold water, causing it to yelp and take several steps back.
Using the fortunate circumstance amid this life-or-death struggle, Gwen forced herself away from the boulder, the jagged rock scraping her back, tearing her naked flesh like a blunt knife. The Goth swam to the opposite shore as quickly as she could, her progress hampered by the strong current of the river. When she finally did make it across she froze as she heard a new howl. Looking back across the river she saw it was the small wolf from before, its yellowish golden eyes shining in the sunlight. Before Gwen had time to think too much more about anything, she heard several more wolves call out from the forest on her side.
That had been when she woke up.
Gwen was mulling over the latest bizarre dream, idly, lost in such internal musings when she remembered what Dawn had told her about needing to stop running from the wolves. She promptly pushed it out of her thoughts, ignoring the more unsettling thought of how she may have known about her dreams in favor of the fact that she wasn't about to trust some lame hippie chick that she still blamed for her current situation.
Before the Goth could ponder on her dislike for the Moonchild any further, she heard something.
Music.
Soft, sweet, gentle, and surprisingly well played.
Just not anything she would ever be caught dead listening to by choice.
Gwen found her lips contorting into a scowl. She had grown well past the point of annoyance at this 'prank' of Cody or Heather's. She was determined to stop it for good.
Her latest nightmare had already put her in a foul mood, and this didn't improve her disposition one bit. As a result, she wanted to gut this prank, and maybe put the fear of God into whoever's bright idea it was to provoke a sleeping bear. The Goth got up from the bed and went towards her boots, but she didn't put them on, instead she pulled out something that had been hidden in one of the boot's sides…a hunting knife.
Duncan's first anniversary present, in case anyone had tried to mess with her when he wasn't around.
Shoeless feet stepped as lightly as they could on the floor as she crept her way towards the door that the music was originating from. By the time she was about halfway there, the music stopped. Paying that no mind, Gwen reached the door, put her ear against it, and listened. It was only now that the Goth realized that the music had stopped, but based off what she learned yesterday she had no doubt that someone was on the other side. Her exhaustion from the endless bad dreams and her forced placating of Heather's demands had overpowered her desire to go with the flow until the Queen Bee lost interest. Unaware of it, in this moment, scaring Heather mattered more than Duncan's wellbeing.
Unfolding the knife, Gwen slid the blade between the door and the doorframe into the doorjamb until she heard the lock pop, another trick Duncan had taught her in their time together. Then, with a wolfish smirk, she carefully turned the knob open. Within a single brutal motion, to maximize its intimidating nature, Gwen then threw it open, holding the hand with the knife out. "I have fuckin' had it with this shit! I swear to God, you two, I'm gonna—!" The Goth roared as she nearly flung herself through the now forcibly opened doorway, only for her to pause mid-word, mid-hate.
She had been expecting, and looked forward to seeing the frightened faces of Cody and/or Heather on the other side of the door. The person looking at her was neither.
Rather she found herself staring at a young blonde, who was looking for all the world like a terrified bunny rabbit sitting on the bed with a stand in front of her presenting a sheet of music. In her now shaking hands and against her quivering chin was some kind of stringed instrument. Perched on her shoulders, one on each, were the perverted devil rats that Gwen wouldn't have minded turning into a nice pair of socks. For a painfully long moment, nobody moved. Four sets of eyes, two human and two ferret; merely gawked at each other in perplexed fascination.
At least, until one of them finally acted. The blonde leapt from where she sat on the bed to now standing atop it, holding her instrument by the neck like a baseball bat.
The sheer surrealist nature of the situation had weakened the hate-filled fire within Gwen, and it took the Goth blinking and shaking her head many times to recompose herself. After she did so, her raspy voice filled the tense air. "Who the hell are you?" she asked. Gwen couldn't put her finger on it, but this girl seemed familiar, like she had seen her somewhere before. But where?
The girl didn't answer quickly. In the time before her response, Gwen decided to look her over, hoping that something would jog her memory. The Goth noted that she was rather small, but not just short in stature, she was very petite and trembling like a Chihuahua. Her blonde hair had already been noted, but now Gwen also saw her baby blue eyes. The Goth's gaze next fell to what she was wearing; a rather old and ratty looking long sleeved dark burgundy shirt and a knee length pelted skirt. Her feet were as devoid of shoes as Gwen's but this was explained by the pair of slip-on sandals on the floor near the bed.
Gwen had hoped that this stranger would answer her question, but she had not done so. She had done nothing but remain there, wielding her instrument like a war club. Hoping to get a reaction, Gwen asked a different question. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
That got a response. After blinking once or twice, the blonde shot back, through shaky voice, "M—me? Wh—what's the wr—wrong with you?!" Gwen allowed her lack of understanding of the redirected question to be apparent. Seeing this, the blonde added, "I—I was just mind—minding my own business…when—when all of a sudden someone looking like a crazy homeless lady with a knife comes barging through the door!" By the end of her explanation, the blonde was nearly screeching.
"Crazy…crazy homeless lady…with a knife?" Gwen repeated, conveying non-ironic doubt. That prompted the blonde to point to Heather's large vanity mirror. Jet-black eyes turned to the sheet of clear glass, before widening at seeing her own reflection. Upon seeing that, the Goth sagged and sighed, her body losing its fatally rigid posture.
Sure enough, Gwen realized reluctantly, she did kind of look like a crazy homeless lady. She had forgotten that she was holding the knife in her hand. And not only that but she was wearing only a pair of bicycle shorts and a tank top, both of which were rather dirty and in need of a good washing. Plus her hair was sticking out in a few odd angles. And as a cherry atop this shit sundae, she was sporting a busted lip.
Determined to lessen her less than presentable persona, and certain she wouldn't be needing it, Gwen folded her knife closed. Turning back to the stranger, Gwen asked again, though in a far more civil tone, "Who are you?"
The blonde was still standing on the bed, still holding what Gwen assumed to be a violin at the ready. But the mask of pure fear had been taken off just the tiniest bit by the Goth's gesture. "I—I—I'm Sammy."
That name, as common as it was, jarred Gwen's memory, but only enough to remember she heard it somewhere. The same was true of her face. Where had she seen this girl? Narrowing her eyes, she tried to divine an answer, but found clarity lacking. "Have we met somewhere before?" asked Gwen.
Sammy didn't answer. Instead, she remained still, standing on the bed and looking like a frightened animal ready to flee. Gwen didn't grasp why such terror was unchanged until she noticed what the blonde's bright blue eyes had remained focused on. Her knife. The taller woman sighed. Her annoyance at the situation aside, she couldn't fault Sammy for her demeanor in this moment as she was also blocking the only exit. With that in mind, the Goth left the room to return the now unneeded blade to its place within her boot. She then made her way back to the other bedroom, hoping that Sammy had fled during her absence so she wouldn't have to continue dealing with her.
Sadly, she had not.
The petite woman hadn't moved an inch. On the other hand, both Chikktika and Boo had, and were now standing on the bed between Gwen and Sammy. The former raised an eyebrow at this. Not dwelling on that, she showed her hands, signaling that she was now unarmed. "The knife's gone. You can come down now."
Sammy's response was to take a step back. Gwen stepped forward, and Sammy took another step back. This pattern repeated until Sammy felt half of her foot unsupported by the back corner of the bed. During her advance, Gwen had repeated her previous questions. Who was she, and what was she doing here?
By the time Sammy had reached the end of the bed, Gwen had once again turned her attention to her eyes. She saw them darting rapidly between her and the opened door. 'Oh, for the love of—please don't try to—'
Sure enough, like a frightened rabbit, Sammy bolted towards the door as quick as a flash. Having seen this development coming and now rather agitated, the Goth was ready for it and acted accordingly. Before the smaller and thinner girl could streak past her, Gwen had grabbed hold of her. Feeling the energy, the fight-or-flight response surging within Sammy's very veins, Gwen decided to neutralize this by taking away the blonde's ability to engage with flight. She wrapped her arms around Sammy's waist and lifted her off the floor. Her arms already quivered under the strain, though Sammy was much lighter than she was. But they held firm. The plan whipped up within a moment's time in Gwen's mind had been for her to show Sammy to not try anything funny by asserting her greater power over her.
But the Goth hadn't taken into account one eventuality. She hadn't considered that when she took away Sammy's option of flight, the blonde well might engage the fight option. This lapse in judgment didn't reveal itself to Gwen until Sammy suddenly became a squirming ball of fury, fueled by nothing but the primal need to escape perceived danger.
Punches and kicks flew all over the place. Most of them were empty gestures hitting unoccupied air, more annoyances than risks diverting attention than anything else. But one lucky strike to Gwen's left breast landed, causing the struggling Goth to get pissed. She wanted to shout at how fucking pointless Sammy's efforts to escape were, but due to the circumstances she could only loosen a brief growl before a loud noise and a blur of motion silenced her.
"KAAYA!" Sammy shouted amidst the chaos of combat, the battle cry proving to be the herald of a new blow. A ball of blonde hair covered flesh, bone, and pure survival instincts rocketed backward towards a haphazardly chosen target. The loud crunching sound that followed conveyed that the reverse head-butt had connected. Two even more thunderous crashes echoed out from the strike, as two bodies suddenly fell to the floor like sacks of potatoes.
Before Gwen could even begin to speculate about what had happened or why her head suddenly hurt so much, everything went black.
Thursday, November 6th, 2014 (12:35 AM)
Gwen remembered reading somewhere that there could be no accounting for time in a dead faint. The moment of crossing between consciousness and its unresponsive opponent couldn't be known in that moment, only upon reflection does the moment of transition become clear. The same held true for the return trip, the secondary shifting. The nature of a contrast between one thing and its counterpoint, when directly experienced, created a powerful and unavoidable shaking of one's foundation. Thus it was that within a lone moment's existence, Gwen found herself confused and frightened by the return to cognizance. With no idea of how her situation had changed so drastically, the Goth was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She noted how soft and inviting the surface of whatever she was lying on was, creating the tactile version of a soothing voice. More than that, she felt that her face was cold.
That sensation spurred her to sit up, as much as her head pounded like a church bell at the position change. Her movement provoked a squeaking yip to her side, not that she noticed for a few lingering moments that felt like hours. With a head that now felt like it was filled with rocks, she turned to its source. Widened blue eyes stared back at her, as Sammy couldn't take her eyes off of her. Her face, previously youthful and smooth even by the standards of young women her age, was stretched and contorted in unflattering ways by palpable anxiety and fretfulness. So eye-catching was Sammy's face that Gwen almost didn't notice that both Chikktika and Boo had once again returned to her shoulders.
"Oh my God!" Sammy gushed, with terror, shame and relief all battling in her voice for unrivaled dominance. "Thank God you are okay! I am so, so, SO sorry for what happened! It was accident, I swear!" she vented and pleaded sincerely.
Gwen didn't respond to any of that. The thing that grabbed her sluggish attention now was how the coldness seemed to have left her face, and was now nestled on her lap somehow. Confused, jet-black eyes glazed over by a brain rebooting itself found an icepack. After she understood that, her eyes turned back towards the panicking blonde.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Sammy began to babble with the speed of an old time stock ticker. "You just freaked me out and scared me! Not that I'm saying that makes me attacking you okay. It doesn't!" The words tumbled out of her quivering lips so rapidly that the end of one word crashed into the start of the next. It was just barely comprehensible. "And when you picked me up and held me back something just snapped but I swear to God that I'm not usually like this! I'd never hurt anyone!"
The million-words-a-minute explanation and apology wasn't doing Gwen any favors. Every single new annoyingly sob-chocked word or stutter or pause bounced within her head like a silver ball made of barbed wire ricocheting off pinball bumpers. This was quite the headache, and the Goth was used to feeling hung over.
"Sh—shut up!" Gwen snapped. The words were weaker than she would have preferred but they were sufficient for silencing the Good Cheerleader. "Le—let me…let me think for a minute."
Looking around the room a few times, the Goth was eventually able to piece together what had happened. But the answer she came to would have made her laugh if not for the pain that risked splitting her skull. This meek little waif must have knocked her out cold. Partially to distract herself from that reality, Gwen noticed another bizarre detail present.
She was lying on Heather and Cody's bed.
Looking over at Sammy, Gwen asked, "H—how did I end up here?"
The Goth knew that an apology storm was coming, so she quickly prepared her umbrella.
"We—well, um…uh, you—you see," Sammy began, a stuttering mess once more. The blonde paused before taking in a huge gulp of air. "I knocked you out and then ran out the dorm and half way down the hallway before thinking you might be seriously hurt so I rushed back to find you out cold!" A few breaths were taken before another large intake. "And then I dragged you up onto the bed since it seemed a better place than the floor and I was about to leave but I still felt super guilty so I stayed to watch over you until you woke up even though I would be missing class and I've never missed a class until today!"
The barbed wired balls in Gwen's head had lost enough momentum for her to understand what she heard, what had been rapidly imparted in those two massive run-on sentences. One detail stood out in particular. "M—missed class?" she asked, quite confused.
Sammy nodded her head shamefully as she rubbed one of her arms. "Y—yeah. I—I guess I knocked you out good," she laughed awkwardly, with a tightened face. "You've been out for almost an hour."
Eyes bordered by the lingering charcoal remains of yesterday's make-up bugged out. "How!?" she asked at a volume that made her wince.
"I'm so sorry!" Sammy all but begged again, her voice devoid of any pride or dignity. "I swear I didn't mean to hit you that hard! I'm just happy that you've got such a hard head!" She paused for a microsecond. "Not that I'm saying you are difficult to be around or anything! I literally just met you and I ended up attacking you! I—I merely mean that you can take a punch really well." There was yet another calm before the storm. "N—not that makes it right. It doesn't! It was an accident. Of which I'm rightfully ashamed!"
Gwen fell back onto the bed, due to the latest assault on her brain by the blond-haired, blue-eyed young woman that made her feel like Poland under a blitzkrieg attack. Amidst all the other thoughts jiggling around in her head, she noted, against her will, how much nicer this bed was to the one that she had been using since her incarceration in this dorm. Hell, it was even better than the one that Duncan had in his dorm. For this reason and others, she groaned.
Sammy shrieked. "Are you okay!?"
Gwen uttered another annoyed groan, half-tempted to smother herself with the nearby pillow. "Gee, I get knocked out cold by a midget skinnier than a weeping Alaska cedar and miss half of my first class…do you fucking think I'm okay!?" she asked, snapping. [2]
The Goth was surprised to notice the blonde wilt at hearing this, like watching a plant die. Now, in almost any other conceivable situation akin to this one, Gwen would have felt rightly ticked at someone for something like this, but to her shock, she wasn't. There was something about Sammy's entire demeanor made it nearly impossible to be more than annoyed with her. But even that milder emotion, though well justified, felt wrong. It felt like she was kicking a sack full of orphaned kittens and puppies.
"I'm so sorry!" Sammy repeated, with such frequency that Gwen secretly wondered if "I'm so sorry" was this girl's birth name or something. The words flowed so naturally. "It was an accident! I—I'm, uh…look, I'm under a lot of stress right now. You—you…just kind of, um, pushed me over the limit, I guess," she paused. "N—not that it's your fault!"
The calming effect of this girl allowed curiosity to blossom in the salted soil of Gwen's mind. "How? What limit?" she asked, amazed she actually wanted to know. Normally she didn't give a toss one way or the other about anyone besides herself or Duncan, but the sheer crushing guilt she was feeling from upsetting this girl was starting to get to her.
It had been years since she felt guilty about anyone other than herself, and the discomfort that caused wasn't something she felt like dealing with right now.
Sammy once again sagged and stayed quiet for a few moments. Eventually, she softly muttered, "I—I'd rather not talk about it." The Goth was about to say something but to her surprise Sammy resumed talking on her own. "B—but I guess since I did, uh, knock you out cold, so—well, um…I guess it's only fair." Gwen nodded her approval of this opinion. The blonde felt like a puppet who's strings had been cut as she slid down the wall she had been using to support herself until her rump sat on the floor. She released a pent-up sigh. "I—have always…yo—you see, the thing is…I—I've always had—uh—trouble—yeah trouble…with my…oh, um…sis—sister. And, well, um, it—it's been far worse lately."
"Sister?" Gwen asked. Judging by the way the blonde sounded, she spoke of Lucifer. Her interest was peeked as she waited for more. To her shock, she didn't have to wait long.
When she continued, Sammy had some control over her voice, not stuttering as much. "I have a sister, like I just said. Heh, heh…yeah. A identical twin named Amy." She winced at the name. Gwen had only seen that kind of reaction in movies when someone lost a limb. "She—she…uh, I only recently got away from her…f—for the first time in my life. But she found out my dorm number!" She screeched, before regaining control of herself. "So…uh, J—Jazz thought it would be a good idea to be somewhere else when she, uh, Jazz that is, isn't around."
The Good Cheerleader hoped that would be enough explanation but the perplexed look on Gwen's face said otherwise. "A few weeks ago," Sammy continued, "Jazz and me got a dorm to share together here. It—it was really, really nice for a week!" Happiness erupted on Sammy's face, only to vanish in the wake of a heavy sorrow. "B—but then Amy found out…and—and she's been trying to make my life a living hell again."
Gwen had a hard time believing this story. Didn't this sister have a life of her own? But she couldn't for the life of her imagine a motivation for why anyone to lie about this.
A loud gulp created a gap in Sammy's words. "J—Jazz and me have different schedules. So she isn't always around to deal with Amy if she tries anything. A—and I don't want to be a burden to my new friends." She looked down at the floor. "Well, anymore than them already knowing me and my problems causes them, anyway." Her voice was heavy, and low. "I don't like needing a bodyguard all the time."
The Goth snorted at this. There hadn't been any foulness or negative feelings in that exhale. Sammy's eyes shot up, the expression shimmering in her blurry blues containing some unknown emotion between sadness and bitterness at that reaction. If Gwen was aware of this, she didn't acknowledge it by changing her words or tone any.
"How bad could she be?" the Goth asked. "If she's your twin, she isn't much of a threat," she explained, ignoring the earlier events with the twin who had brought her to the floor. "I'd bet she isn't even a hundred pounds soaking wet."
Sammy sagged. As if her horrible looks or similarity to Amy didn't sting enough. Chikktika and Boo, who had been perched on her shoulders this entire time, moved down to her lap. She smiled as she started rubbing them while they nuzzle against her fingers.
"Y—yeah…" Sammy admitted, "She's not very big or strong but she's still dangerous and a real handful. Even Jazz has a hard time with her sometimes."
There was that name again. Something about it sounded vaguely familiar. "Jazz?" Gwen asked.
"Jasmine," added Sammy as if that explained everything.
For the Goth, it didn't. "Jasmine?"
Sammy gave her an odd look. "Yes, Jasmine." Gwen remained silent, still confused. "You met her before, she helped you and Heather move your stuff to this dorm."
Gwen's eyes widened slightly. "You mean Jasmine is that giant black girl with the Indiana Jones hat!?" she asked, her voice a slightly higher pitch than she would prefer.
"Yup," Sammy said with a nod. "But its not Indiana Jones' hat she wears. It's an Akubra. And she's not black." The blonde paused, before changing mental gears. "Okay—well, I guess she is black, b—but not in the way you are thinking." She saw Gwen's confusion. "Uh, I mean, she's Aboriginal, Australian, not African. Besides, if we want to get technical, her skin's more of a copper brown than a true black." She paused again, before adopting a small, shy smile. "But—but perhaps when compared to you she is black." Again Sammy's face seemed tense, but in a manner different from the previous examples.
The Goth was a quiet for a moment, confused by that final statement. After a few seconds it clicked. Sammy was trying to make a joke out of how pale she was. Despite how clumsily the joke was presented, or maybe because of that, Gwen laughed hard. She had never guessed someone whom seemed scared of their own shadow would try that. She snorted and shook her head, noticing that Sammy was laughing too, looking relieved.
"Could someone your size really give someone like Jasmine a problem?" asked Gwen.
Sammy nodded. "Uh-uh. Amy's…uh…extremely… unpredictable, and cruel, and nearly impossible to stop! Th—the only things I've ever seen her scared of her Jazz and Heather…b—but for different reasons."
Interest once again sparked in Gwen. And that spark illuminated something previously hidden within the dark wood of her mind. Where she had seen Sammy before, why she recognized her. Sammy had been there that day she and Heather had their argument. She and Jasmine were sitting at the table, witnesses to the low point of her time with Heather. Not revealing that, instead Gwen merely asked, "What do you mean by that, exactly?" Sammy's silence reflected confusion, which the taller of the two chose to eradicate. "I mean, why is Amy scared of Jasmine and Heather for different reasons?"
Sammy breathed a little easier as she continued stroking the rodents basking in her attention while still sitting on the floor. "Well, she's afraid of Jazz not because she knows she could hurt her, but because she started proving that she would. She, uh…almost put Amy's arm in a sling last week, actually." The blonde paused, a look unsure if it wanted to be pleasure or shame cropped up as Gwen stared at her like a gapping fish on dry land. "And—uh, uh? You know, I don't exactly know why she's scared of Heather. I—I mean, well, I don't think its fear, exactly?" She stopped for a moment, gathering her precise thoughts. "You—you see, a few days ago Amy came to our dorm—uh, mine and Jazz's dorm, that is—but Heather was there. She, Heather I mean, stepped outside and closed the door behind her. After a few minutes, Heather came back in and, just, went back to talking to Jazz. And she, Amy was nowhere to be found. I checked!" An embarrassed chuckle escaped her lips at how loudly she had shouted that last part. "Uh, anyway…yeah. A—Amy's still a issue but she hasn't come anywhere near this dorm."
Gwen snorted again, but this time the released puff of air was harsher, less friendly. With some difficulty, she got off the bed and made her way towards the still sitting blonde. She stopped at least triple the normal distance from which two people could converse. Sammy saw this and raised herself up, though still against the wall. The ferrets had left her shoulders, sensing the incoming storm that had paler skin and bigger boobs. Sammy slightly wilted at the nastier tone. She preferred the first type of snort way more.
"I'm not surprised, Heather has that effect on people," the Goth said unthinkingly. Then, a thought came to the paler skinned woman. The gears in her head started to turn. "What did you have to do to get Heather to hide you out here anyway?" she asked.
Sammy looked the taller Goth with a confused expression for a few long seconds before she finally responded. While shaking her head, the cheerleader said, "Nothing. Jazz asked, and Heather agreed."
That statement gave Gwen the power to rise to her full stature as she chuckled rather darkly. "You're gonna regret that. As someone who knows about demonology, here's a freebie. A deal with the Devil, no matter how harmless, still involves you kissing her ass."
The statement struck Sammy two-fold. Firstly, she was mostly confused by the reference. That didn't shock Gwen, not many today knew that many medieval accounts of pacts with Satan involved what was known as 'The Abominable Kiss,' where the party entering a Faustian bargain sealed their allegiance to the demon by smooching their rectum. But even with her ignorance of the literary allusion made, the look on Sammy's face showed she got the second more critical point just fine. Gwen equated Heather with the Devil. Frowning, the blonde asked, "What do you mean?"
"Nothing is free when it comes to Heather. She alwaysgets something out of the deal."
Not being able to see through the vagueness of Gwen's answer, Sammy again asked, "What do you mean?"
Gwen shrugged. "Heather's got something of a reputation, not exactly new, though apparently she's bisexual now, which is new. And I'd bet she's pulling some kind of sub/dom routine with Jasmine on the weekends."
Crimson filled Sammy's cheeks faster than a mountain of red sand poured into a river; a blush capable of causing light pollution radiated, leaving not a speck of white flesh remaining as she fell flat on her ass before acting like a dead frog jolted to twitchy motion by galvanism when she immediately leapt back to her feet. After several failed attempts at speech, the Good Cheerleader finally forced out stuttering words through pained gasps of offense and disbelief. "Th—that—none of that is true!"
The Goth snorted. "You obviously don't know Heather that well, then. So let me clue you in. She's a liar, a cheater, a bitch, and an all around pain in the ass who cares only about one person. Herself. If she gives you something, it's because she's expecting a return investment. Given that Jasmine is fairly attractive, that Heather enjoys humiliating others, and what a horn dog Cody is…sex is of course somehow involved, and probably on camera." The words were said with no malice or spite, merely a matter-of-fact tone.
But that didn't lessen Sammy's reaction any. She was trembling, convulsing in a foreign emotion so palpable that an inferno writhed within her petite body. Rage. Pure rage. Her hands were balled up into tightened fists at her sides. Her breaths were savage gulps of air that caused her nostrils to flare with each exhale and she was conducting an internal war to not ball her eyes out. What little part of her mind remained rational couldn't remember getting this mad before.
For the Goth to say such things about Heather angered her but didn't entirely surprise her, but the very idea that someone could even think Jasmine would do such a thing behind her back sparked a wildfire of righteous fury.
"Sh—sha—shut up! Sh…shut up, shut up, shut up!" Sammy shouted like an offended child. "You—you don't know—you don't know anything!" she hissed with a snarl, channeling the very same rage her twin so often directed at her over the years.
Now getting very annoyed with the little blonde, Gwen stormed up to the shorter girl. Sammy remained pinned against the wall, with the irate Goth towering over her, glaring. The defiance itself was minimal in Gwen's eyes, the hypocrisy and/or stupidity was not. She didn't know what disgusted her more, the idea that Sammy was too naïve to see the truth, or that the blonde knew the truth but was pretending like she didn't to not feel some of the shame she rightly deserved. "I know Heather, you sad, delusional little flake." Gwen hissed back with conviction. "I've put up with her for long enough and have suffered her for long enough to know exactly what kind of person Heather is. And I've dealt with Cody for just as long."
Long since committing herself to riding a wave whose origin she didn't understand, Sammy didn't back down, didn't wilt away, didn't try to back paddle and submit to her foe. Instead, she puffed up her merger chest and met Gwen nose to nose. Emblazoned blue glaring into cold black. "Y—you knew them three years ago! On a reality TV show competing for a cash prize! They've changed since then!" Sammy snapped, unable to cease her zealous defense.
Gwen was mildly surprised by Sammy's continued defiance. But that wouldn't spare the blonde. And it didn't make up for her refusing to see the truth. The Goth shook her head dismissively, a mocking smile stretched across her lips. That smile shifted into a very deep frown. "You need to grow the fuck up and smell the bullshit, little girl. Your friend is doing something to pay for your protection. Either in some threesome orgy with Heather on the weekends, or on her knees sucking Cody off every day, one way or another—"
"MY GIRLFRIEND IS NOT HAVING SEX WITH THEM!" Sammy roared, her usually meek and soft voice shouting as loud as it could. As the bellowing thundered, her body acted on its own accord, primal passion and instinct compelling her next action.
Sammy reared back and fired a surprisingly powerful punch right into Gwen's solar plexus. Whatever Gwen was going to add had been beheaded as the wind had been knocked out of her. Reeling in pain and greater shock, the Goth dropped to her knees clutching her belly. For the latest time, Gwen's mind struggled to grasp what had incontrovertibly occurred. Her eyes were wide and her breath still not yet caught. There was no denying the truth.
This frail little twig of a girl was strong.
"Oh my gosh—OH MY GOSH!" Sammy gasped, only now realizing what she had done. Panic dominated her, as her body shook and her voice quivered. "I—it was a accident—AN ACCIDENT! I—I—I swear!" she forced out, her eyes watering with tears.
Gwen was still in too much of a daze to notice, she was lost in herself until she saw a faint flicker of movement just out the corner of her widened eyes. The Goth saw Chikktika and Boo, doing an odd little dance. If Gwen didn't know better, she would have thought the hell-beasts were mocking her with a weasel war dance. That proved to be one step too far. Now even the animal kingdom was fucking with her! From her humbled position, Gwen lunged at the duo, missing them by a mile. The ferrets ran up Sammy and perched on her shoulders again, where they chittered while bobbing their heads. Neither girl noticed.
For Gwen, this was because she noticed something else. Rising to her feet, the Goth stopped as something clicked into place for her. "Girlfriend?" she repeated.
With the way Sammy's bright blue eyes widened one would have assumed a gun was pointed in her face. All that violent bravado flushed out of her, leaving her shaking. "D—did I…uh, did I say girlfriend!?" she exclaimed, screeched, her voice a far higher, terrified pitch. "What I meant was my friend—yeah, that's it! My friend—Just…just a friend…who just so happens to be a girl, you know, girlfriend! Heh, heh, heh!" Sammy finished rather lamely. And she knew that. Lying wasn't something she had to do every often, and something she wanted to do even less. Thus a female P.T. Barnum she was not.
Despite the pain rippling across her stomach and her embarrassment at being humbled by someone so clearly submissive and gullible, Gwen couldn't help but grin as she scoffed. "No one punches that hard for 'just a friend.'" Air was taken out of the Goth's sails as she clutched her aching stomach. For someone so small, this girl had a wicked right hook.
Seeing the paler woman wince in pain, Sammy started to approach Gwen with the intent of helping her. The Goth's coal black eyes focused on the meek blonde with a hard stare while she held out one hand. "Stop. You've done enough already," she said, her voice wasn't loud but it was sharp. Gwen felt a small amount of pleasure at seeing Sammy not only remain frozen in place, but also with a look of fear on her face. Only savoring that for a few seconds, the Goth forced herself to her feet and left the room for the one she had been staying in, the one with all of her supplies in it. She gathered up her things for her morning shower and began to leave, only to stop when she noticed Sammy watching her from the open doorway with a down and curious look.
"What?" Gwen asked with a flat tone.
"W—why do you do that?" Sammy asked, that annoying quivering back in her soft voice. Bewilderment kept Gwen in place. The blonde picked up on this and gasped in embarrassed realization. "I—I mean, why do y—you go to the communal showers every morning. W—why not just use the one in the dorm?" The Good Cheerleader asked innocently.
"My dorm doesn't have a shower," explained Gwen, figuring the blonde must have nabbed one of the other 'Premium' dorms and just assumed it was a normal amenity.
Sammy shook her head back and forth a few times. "No, I mean" she corrected while pointing to the third door in the dorm, the one at the end of the hallway, "that one."
The Goth scoffed. "There's no way in this or any other lifetime that I would willingly strip naked and use a shower in a dorm owned by Cody fucking Anderson. The pervert's probably got it rigged with more cameras than an international airport," she explained.
Sammy frowned. "Why do you keep calling him that?"
Not sure of what spurred her to do so, Gwen returned her gathered up things to the bed she was being forced to sleep on and approached Sammy until she was within the doorway to Cody and Heather's bedroom once more. She wanted to make sure she was crystal clear.
"I'm of the opinion that it's best to call a spade a spade. I call him that because it's true."
The thin blonde's light golden tuffs and bangs of hair were jostled a bit as her head once again shook from side to side. During and after her head's movements, the frown on her face became deeper, more pronounced. It seemed almost surreal to see such an expression on someone who Gwen quickly picked up on as being cowering as their default. "He's no more a pervert than anyone else is. He's actually quite the gentleman." Sammy paused, noticing the utterly dismissive look on Gwen's face. "And for the record, I know for a fact that there are no cameras in the dorm, especially the shower."
A second scoff left lips as dark as the void of outer space. Those same lips quickly contorted into a mocking, savage smirk. "And how exactly do you know that, Blondie? Did you ask him?" Gwen's sardonic voice conveyed how little she thought of the idea.
For a third time, Sammy shook her head before answering. "No, I didn't, but Jazz did. And Cody wouldn't lie to her."
"Oh? And why is that?" Gwen asked with a darkly bemused tone, awaiting whatever sugarcoated answer the almost painfully girly-girl would inevitably utter, so she could tear it apart. If she wanted to provoke the bull, it was only fair she got the horns.
"Because Cody's kind of scared of her, despite them being good friends." Sammy said.
The Goth had been legitimately blindsided by that answer. Maybe she shouldn't have been but she was. She never would have guessed that the timid young woman before her wouldn't have appealed to some higher and nobler notion like human decency or trust. Instead, she had appealed to a notion Gwen knew quite well from many places, including her love of horror fiction. Fear. The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind, indeed.
But the more she thought about it, the more Sammy's answer made logical sense. Gwen certainty remembered her first impressions of the towering ebony amazon quite well. Just the mere possibility, the unfounded suspicion, of invoking that copper tinted titan's displeasure had eclipsed most of her fears. Only beaten out by being buried alive. The Goth's skepticism about Sammy's answer had been swiftly killed, much to her shock.
Said shock left Gwen quiet for a few moments longer than most would deem socially acceptable. Judging this as some kind of disbelief, Sammy decided to continue, fighting against her fear of misreading the situation. "A—and the other reason I know there aren't any cameras here is that Cody doesn't need them."
That got Gwen's attention. For some reason, the answer to her previous question made the Goth more willing to be civil, at least for now, and as such she bit back any snarky rebuke. "Why do you say that?"
Seeming almost happy to explain herself further, Sammy smiled a little, only the tiniest bit. "Well, you see, Cody and Heather have…a, uh…um…" her face became as red and warm as heated stones in a sauna, "…very, very healthy sex life." The words had to be forced out of her mouth. If she hadn't been so focused on the content of her words, Gwen might have laughed at the strained near cough-like efforts to expel the required evidence. "He doesn't—uh, Cody do—doesn't need to take pi—pic—pictures or record Heather be—being, um…naked, she—she's perfectly happy to parade around for him in the buck without him even asking." There was a second of pause, as a new terrified look flashed across Sammy's already embarrassed and flustered bright scarlet countenance. "Not—not that I've ever seen her na—naked! Honest! I don't li—like her like that! I don't! And I certainly wouldn't be into other girls either! No siree bob!" she sputtered, as if she were a failing boat motor, as she continued to ramble and mummer, the words became less coherent, starting to smash together into inarticulate gibberish.
Gwen watched the increasingly pathetic sight with something between archangelic patience and a special kind of almost pitying apathy. She had considered allowing the twitching road kill squirrel before her to die on its own terms. Eventually, she decided to preform a mercy killing by raising a hand for Sammy's silence, which was swiftly given. "How do you know that?" the Goth asked, ignoring everything else.
The relief that Sammy felt at not having her blushing tangent acknowledged allowed her to recover quickly. "Well, you see, I am friends with them. Jazz and me both are, really. And, well…um…the topic of sex comes up a lot with them...especially Heather."
'That much I believe without a doubt' Gwen thought to herself as her mouth uttered, "Perverts."
Sammy frowned yet again; all of her previous embarrassments wiped clean from her face. "In—in their defense," she began, her voice still shaking but not as much as beforehand. "They are usually asked about that, uh, sort of thing from the others. They don't just bring it up casually." She noted Gwen's newly curious look, asking for further detail. "They don't go around talking about it, but they don't lie or hold back if someone asks them something."
Again, Gwen was stricken silent by the blonde's answer. She was looking for some kind of lie, even if only by omission, some proof that she was somehow working with Heather. The taller young woman started to say something before she left the sentence unfinished. She kept mulling over what Sammy had just told her, seeing it from different vantage points. It took longer than Gwen would have liked but her diligence paid off.
"That doesn't explain why you are so sure Cody doesn't have cameras here?" Gwen pointed out, unable to determine if that was intentional on the blonde's part or not.
"Oh!" Sammy gasped as she covered her mouth with her hands. The Good Cheerleader Twin had a surprised look that lead Gwen to believe it hadn't been intentional. Either that or this girl literally shaking in her shoes was capable of out-acting Daniel Day-Lewis. "Um…not only does Heather have—oh, um—no issue having sex…a lot—but they—they sometimes have other girls over. So w—why would he need any cameras? Do—don't guys only use cameras or…um, revealing pictures when they can't get…uh, the real thing?" Her cheeks were lividly red as her eyes began darting around frantically, desperate not to make eye contact with Gwen.
Yet again, Gwen found her ability to speak briefly negated. She started to say something several times, but she allowed the sentences to die unfinished each and every time. The finalist of Total Drama Island was reluctantly led to a conclusion as unpalatable as rotten meat and as hard to believe as a great video game movie being made in her lifetime.
Sammy might have a point. She might have been telling the truth about Heather.
According to Heather, the only guy she had slept with in years was in fact Cody, but she herself also admitted they brought other girls around. According to rumor, there was a conga-line of sluts coming in and out of their bedroom. And yet Gwen hadn't seen any proof of that since she was 'detained'. Then again, she reminded herself, that might have been at least partially because she had made a conscious effort to avoid the couple like the plague, and it was rare to see one without the other, kind of like how she was with Duncan.
Moving away from that uncomfortable truth, Gwen returned to the point of this endeavor. Based on what she had seen and heard, and what others had told her, the Goth was led to conclude that Cody honestly would have very little need for porno to jerk off to when he could have sex any time he wanted. Besides, Heather wasn't that sort of tech savvy, so any cameras around here wouldn't have come from her. After all, not once during their time on Total Drama did Heather seem like she could—
Gwen paused at that, fixating on a singular thing that Sammy had said earlier in their talk. How she knew Cody and Heather three years ago on a reality show. How did she know that? It could have been as simple as having seen the show, Gwen knew, but if it was anything more, then the Goth was confident that she could force the information out.
Turning to face the diminutive blonde, Gwen asked, "How did you know I was on Total Drama? Did Heather tell you?"
Sammy recovered from the sudden shift of the conversation too slow for Gwen's liking, but allowed the recovery to happen on its own time. Better for getting any information that way. Eventually the blonde nodded and offered a small smile. "Well…Heather told me of her—uh, how did she put it again? 'Old arch foe?' Yeah, that was it! Anyway, she said that that person was living with Cody and her now. And since, I watched the show, I—I was able to put two and two together." There was a brief, awkward pause. "I—I mean, you d—don't exactly look like Leshawna, right?" Sammy's face became just as tense and unsure as the previous time she attempted to tell a joke. To her relief, there was no delay.
Gwen issued a lingering laugh at the second unexpected successful attempt at humor from someone who looked like they couldn't even handle the delivery of knock-knock jokes. Even the knowledge of it happening before, or that it was basically the same exact joke didn't lessen the impact. If anything those repetitions only improved it. Some jokes are by default even funnier the second time.
The Goth said nothing for a few moments after her laughter finally died down enough, and she used that time to study the girl before her. Gwen felt like she had a good idea of what she was like. Trusting, kind, and all-around gullible…the perfect stooge for Heather. The payment for her service was staring Gwen in the face, letting the meek blonde use this dorm to 'hide out in' for free. Hell, even her just being a fan might have been enough considering how narcissistic Heather was.
Filing that information away for later, Gwen returned her attention to more immediate concerns. Looking at the clock on the DVD player, she saw that her second class was going to be starting soon. Cursing the inopportune timing, she weighed out her options.
She could just go about her business and make up the missed class. Or she could try and pump some information out of Sammy. She even had a decent method of attack already planned out. Use her gullible and submissive nature with the guilt she obviously felt about attacking her. Good leverage. Yeah, that would probably be the best course of—
Gwen's internal musings were ended when she heard her stomach rumble and growl.
As embarrassment colored Gwen's ghostly pale cheeks, Sammy giggled. "Your tummy's almost as loud as Jazz's when she's hungry," she said, answering the unspoken question that Gwen's gaze asked. The smaller girl then got quiet, before a sudden spark of life entered her. All at once, her eyes seemed to nearly double in size as her mouth turned into a delightfully puckered ring, all while her hands were clasped at her chin. "Oh my gosh!" she gushed with previously unseen zeal. "Why don't I make you breakfast!?" She failed to notice Gwen's shock, and continued to ramble to herself just as excited. "I—I mean, I'm not that great a cook but I can make some waffles if you want me to! Heather always has some whenever I'm here before she leaves for class and—oh, I got another idea!" she added without pause as she started to point towards the dorm's bathroom door. "Why don't you go take a shower? By the time you're out, you'll have a nice stack of freshly made waffles waiting for you!" With that final flourish of incentive, Sammy finally stopped talking. She waited on Gwen's reply with obvious eagerness. The Good Twin was nearly bouncing on her feet with a wide smile plastered across her face.
The seconds ticked by painfully slow as Gwen struggled to grasp what had just happened. It took some time for Gwen to discern that this series of events had not only occurred, but that Sammy was sincere. She was tempted to consider this some elaborate hoax.
'Offering to cook breakfast for someone who you thought was trying to attack you, who you knocked out cold?' Gwen initially thought. 'What kinda Teletubbies shit is that!?'
But after burning away the initial wave of skepticism, Gwen soon realized something. The universe was finally giving her a freebie!
Weighing out Sammy's offer, Gwen saw it as a poison pill. There is a massive opening, one wider than Heather's spread legs, and Gwen would have been as dumb as Lindsay to ignore it. This was a once in a lifetime chance to learn more about Heather's scheme! But it would mean compromising herself quite a bit. As logical and sensible as Sammy's argument might have been, the Goth still didn't believe that there weren't cameras around the dorm, especially if what Sammy said was true about Heather being happy and willing to walk around naked and bring other girls around. Cody might have had unlimited access to tail whenever he wanted it now, but she was willing to bet dollars to doughnuts he still had her old bra from TDI hidden somewhere.
That, and she knew full well that Duncan had his own little stash of magazines and pictures, including a number of herself despite their being together. When it came to guys, even when they were with a girl that was putting out they were still guys through and through. Her doubts were addressed by a little voice in the back of her mind however, reminding her that she had done a lot more for a lot less with Duncan. The recent tit-wash for a day between them that never played out in particular came to mind.
And as much as she hated and loathed the idea of Cody seeing her naked, especially if it was recorded, this was just too good of an opportunity to pass up on. Heather and Cody were going to be out for at least a few more hours, and she could easily leverage some information out of Sammy by then. She just needed to come across as nice and friendly, if only until she had what she needed to be free of this hellhole.
Gwen decided to bite the bullet. Giving Cody some jerk-off material would be worth it if she could get what she needed to be out from Heather's control for good.
Feeling like her head was full of lead, Gwen nodded towards the zealous blonde. "Okay, uh, Sammy, I'll take you up on that offer," she paused. "And maybe we could talk a bit?"
Sammy was positively beaming at hearing those words, smiling wide with her eyes closed. For a second, Gwen noted that she looked a lot like Cody back during their time on Total Drama Island. As much as she viewed this soon to be interaction as a means to an end, and she still wasn't exactly all warm and fuzzy about who the look reminded her of, Gwen couldn't help but be just the tiniest bit pleased by the shorter girl's elated expression. If she were as easy to work as Cody had been then, this wouldn't even take all that long.
Forcing down that feeling, and returning to her hard-as-steel demeanor, Gwen warned, "I take very quick showers, Sammy, so you better have them ready by the time I get out."
So, that was the newest chapter! As always, we hope you all enjoyed it.
Bet none of you were expected Sammy to the person who would interact with Gwen, right? Lol. Believe or not, this was an idea we had from fairly early on in the writing process. It just took us a little while longer than we assumed it would to get here. Our bad. Lol
Anyway, what were your thoughts on Gwen and Sammy's interactions so far? Do you have any guesses as to why we would want to have these characters play off each other? What higher storytelling function could this possible serve? We look forward to seeing what guesses you wonderful guys or gals send our way.
[1] The used quotation is one that comes from the amazing writer H.P. Lovecraft. Not only could I totally buy Gwen loving his work, but Mr. Lovecraft is also one of my personal favorite authors! I get that his stuff isn't for everyone but I personally can't get enough of it! "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!" lol
[2] I looked up something like "skinniest tree" on Google ages ago. Here's a quote I found from a site I've lost track of: "Skinny is the best word to describe this columnar tree for small yards and gardens. The thinnest of all the weeping Alaska cedars, it reaches 20 feet tall but is only 1 foot wide! That's right – 1 foot!" And I thought that was a good stand-in for Sammy. Lol
As a reminder, the next chapter, chapter 30, is the start of the second concurrent story arc that will be occurring on November 6th, one that focusing on what Cody and Heather are doing on this day. It's not much of spoiler, so we'll tell you this…they are going to meet up with Lindsay for the day! Interested? Lol ;)
Until next time, please read, REVIEW, follow, and spread the word! :)