There were clink and clanks coming from the kitchen. Freddie sat in a patched up chair, drumming his fingers on the arm rest. He heard Sam mutter swear words as she rummaged through the shelves for a clean plate. Freddie surveyed the room, everything was precise, colour co-ordinated, inline. It was unorthodox to imagine Sam being tidy. The shelves were cluttered with trophies and photographs. Freddie assumed the trophies belonged to Sam, as he walked over for a closer look, the trophies had been marked with a man's name 'Greg Parkinson'. Fred looked into the photographs of Sam and 'Greg'. The first thought that came into his mind was how strange Sam's expression was in the pictures. In one picture, Sam and her boyfriend where on a beach. Greg sat on a blanket, with Sam sitting on his knees. Greg was a strong built man, in the picture he worn a grey vest showing off his muscles. Sam worn a red bikini, her skin a warm shade of brown.

At an quick glance, it looked like any other ordinary holiday picture. The facade of an sweet romance was broken by her eyes. Once again, that unrecognizable expression. His eyes glided across to other photographs sitting around the strangely tidy living room. Every single picture. The same expression. Christmas, Birthdays, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Valentines day- The same expression.

As much as Freddie hated it to admit it, but he known Sam. And he known Sam never pretended to be fake, or hide any emotions. Carly always worn a mask. But Sam didn't. When she smiled, she was showing genuine happiness. When she cried, they were tears of true sadness. And when she was angry, she never held back.

But what was this expression on her face? Why did all the photographs look the same? Unless-

"Hey," Sam's voice shattered his thoughts, Freddie spun round, still holding the holiday photograph. She held a plate of chicken legs, she moved towards him. "It was nice when we first met." She said softly, looking down at the picture, "Greg was such a sweet guy. He rode his motorbike back then. He stayed with me when no one would." She paused, locking eyes with Freddie, as if she was going to say more.

"And he still is. And he always will stay." she said hollowly, "Sure, he has a short temper, but he hasn't left me." The plate she held began to shake, "No, not Greg, he hasn't left me."

"Sam…" He rubbed her arms comfortingly, but she only flinched by his touch.

"You have no idea, Freddie. No idea how hard it has been for me. You and Carly were the only ones… And you broke it." Freddie took the plate of chicken from her shaking hands and placed it beside the photo frames. He took the fragile blonde into his arms, hugging her tightly. "Sam, I am so, so sorry."

"This is killing me Freddie." She whispered croakily, "Seeing you again is bringing back too many bad memories. I have glimpses of moments of my life when I was at my lowest. And I know, it will happen again."

"It won't, Sam." Freddie caressed Sam's hair, "I'm not going anywhere, if you need me, I promise I'll be here."

Broken laughter tumbled out from her mouth. She pushed him away, rubbing her eyes, "No, I don't need anyone." She picked up a chicken leg and bit into it fiercely, "There were no wings." she grunted. Freddie watched her in concern as she slumped back into her sofa.

"But enough about me," she grinned, the venerable voice was coated with sarcasm, "How have you been, Benson. I know that you quit your job, but has anything else happened? Girlfriends? Engagements? Oh, you must have lived such a glamorous life!"

"It's been boring, mostly. Chasing after Carly. Fighting for her and not receiving a single thank you." He sighed, he looked back at the row of photographs, that mirrored the unrecognisable expression on Sam's face. Freddie frowned, grabbing a chicken leg, "Sam, if there's anything wrong, you can tell me."

"There's nothing wrong." Sam chuckled, "What makes you think that?"

Freddie bit his lip, "Sam, please, I can help. If there's anything wrong…"

Sam had finally left the institution. She felt almost human again by no longer wearing the orange jumpsuit. She bought her Auntie's motor shop and everything was finally going right in Sam's life.

Then she met Greg.

He was exactly Sam's type. He worn leather, looked tough, and was handsome.

"I haven't seen you here before." he smiled charmingly, his voice a soft purr mixed with an Texas accent.

"I just bought this place." Sam answered proudly, "My Auntie once owned it."

Everything else was fast. Too fast.

Greg and Sam became a couple almost instantly, they had the same interests, same humour. For a while, Sam was almost in love with Greg.

Almost.

Greg had a way of kissing. His tongue would dominate Sam's mouth, and he wouldn't break free of the kiss until he was satisfied. He would bite her lips and pull her hair as they kissed. He would often decide to make love to her whenever he felt like it.

The contact made Sam feel not alone. It slightly filled the hole that Carly and Freddie left in her heart.

His touch hurt her, but it was real. Sam would endure the pain, because he wanted her. She was wanted for once. And unlike everyone else in her life, he would stay with her .

But only if she allows him to do whatever he wants to her.

"Nothing is wrong now." Sam smiled, Freddie now noticed the blotches on her skin. A trail of bruises that formed a track around her body.

Then the clues all snapped together, the flinching, the photos, the tidy house, that expression.

Sam saw the flash of realisation in his eyes. She couldn't hold up her wall much longer. She tried to choke back the tears.

"Sam…" He whispered, gently placing his hand on her fingers, "This guy… is he… abusing you?"