Chapter Seven: Sam's POV
"She did what?"
Freddie and I, since we started dating, decided on a rule: we had to tell each other everything, no exceptions.
"I'm not kidding, not in the slightest," he assured me. I sat on his bed to think. We were in his room. His mom, after her nervous breakdown, had sent someone to look after him. Most of the time they weren't home. They were out partying. This was a nice arrangement for us.
"Why would she do that?" I demanded, getting ready to walk across the hall and punch her.
"How am I supposed to know, Sam? I can't read her mind!"
I stood up and began to walk for the door, my hands clenched so tightly in fists my knuckles were white and purple. Freddie dashed from his spot to stand in front of the door. "Oh no, you don't," he said. "We don't know what's going on. We have to hear her half of the story first. Maybe it's her dad. Maybe it's Adam."
"Her and Adam are fine, I asked her," I lied. He knew I wasn't being entirely truthful. No matter how good a liar I am, he's always been able to see right through me.
"Alright, fine! When I asked her, she started getting really nervous, and you know she's a terrible liar. Something's up."
Freddie rubbed his chin, deep in thought. Something I never understood. Why do men have to attack their face with their hand when they're concentrating on something?
"Well she's not just going to tell us," he said finally. "We either have to force it out of her, or ask Adam what's going on."
"Why would Adam tell us? It's obvious he's the problem here, otherwise Carly would be whining to me about feeling guilty about something."
"How about this? We just keep an eye on her." I nodded.
I was walking to Carly's late on a Saturday night. I was getting back from Freddie's and I didn't want to go back home, it would ruin my mood. I knew Carly wouldn't mind my appearance, so I went to her house.
I had gotten to the house and heard arguing, screaming and what sounded like glass breaking. I, not thinking twice, kicked the door in. What I saw was horrifying: Carly, quaking in a corner, Adam towering over her, throwing things at her. She was sobbing and begging forgiveness.
I didn't waste time. I ran to Adam, tackling him without holding back, screeching battle calls. He landed on his stomach on the hard wooden floor, disoriented. I twisted his left arm and right leg in ways they should never bend. He screamed in pain. I grabbed him by the hair, lifted him up to stand upright, wrapped my hand around the front of his neck and ran him into the wall. I kneed him in the stomach once more for good measure, then tossed him out the front door. "GET OUT!" I screamed. "YOU MESS WITH CARLY, YOU MESS WITH ME, YOU HEAR? LEAVE AND DON'T COME BACK! UNLESS YOU WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN!" Needless to say, he didn't come back after that.
I ran to Carly. "Carls, you ok?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, choking back tears. Both of our voices were hoarse. "Sam? Thank you."
I hugged her, and we both sobbed. Just then, Freddie ran in, flipping on the lights and saying in a frantic tone, "What's going on? What happened? Why is Carly surrounded by broken glass?"
After explaining what had happened to Freddie, we treated Carly's cuts and bruises and black eye. Carly explained my attack like a proud trainer, describing every second with graphic detail, quoting my exact words.
"Wow. Remind me not to ever get you angry," Freddie joked, kissing me on the cheek.
"Carly, are you sure you're ok? How many times did that happen?"
Carly shrugged and smiled weakly, but I knew she was just as beaten on the inside as the out. "Two, three?"
"Three?" Freddie exclaimed, reaching for the phone. We heard three infamous beeps and Carly grabbed for the phone, then recoiled in pain, having bumped a bruise.
"Put the phone down, Freddie, please!" she begged. He did, looking concerned.
"Carly, we want total honesty: what's been going on?"
Carly burst into tears, then gasped in pain, the salt from the tears stinging her cuts along her face. "He told me if I told anyone or called the cops he'd come after you guys," she sobbed, and my heart went cold. "He said, 'Fine, you wanna call the cops? What about your little friends, huh? I doubt you'd like to see them get hurt!' It was like a villain in a comic and I was the ca-ca-ca-captive!" She choked on her words.
"I doubt we have anything to worry about," Freddie said. "After Sam's scene, anyway."
I couldn't say anything. All I could picture was my friend in that same position, helpless. It killed me like nothing ever did. All I wanted to do was shove that, that-no word, no matter how profane can describe him-off a cliff and laugh.
