PLEASE REVIEW! I want to know how to make my stories better! This chapter is in Freddie's POV. It's technically chapter 3 but as I said in Freddie's POV. I don't own iCarly.
Chapter 3:
Again Freddie's POV
It was one of those days again. Where I woke up early, stupid nightmare. I kept remebering when that drunk driver hit my dad. Why? Drugs are so stupid!
I got dressed. And left for Carly's. At 2:30 a.m. I knew Spencer and she were at a relative's house somewhere across the world. Only Carly's family, me and Sam knew about the back room. It's where Spencer kept his artwork, and a keyboard. Nobody knew this, but I played piano until my dad died. He taught me. I barely played now.
I picked the lock. I know I don't usually. But I had watched Sam before.
I ran to the back room, turned the keyboard on real low. And started playing my father's favorite song. I don't know the name, but I taught it to myself after he died. I played for a while, until I heard crying, I looked at my watch, it was about 3:30 a.m. I turned off the keyboard, and ran behind a sculpture. I knew who was crying. I had only heard her cry once before, but I would always remember the sound of anything she made. Sam. She ran to the keyboard and turned it on real low. I sat on my knees, expecting her to hear me, but she didn't. She started playing and singing happily, then more slow and sad. I didn't even know she could play or sing. And I mean sing. Like amazing singing. Wow. Her voice was beautiful. She hung her head after a while. I looked at my watch again, it was 3:45 a.m. now. She heard me this time. She looked around, she stared at my shadow, but then ignored it, turned and hung her head again.
Something was obviously wrong. And he was going to help no matter what. I walked over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. She turned, sort of shocked that I was there. She stared into my eyes while I stared into her sky blue eyes. She snapped out of whatever part of space she was in. "Go away, Benson." "No" "Now" "No" I was not going to leave her leaving her like this. "Please" she begged. I couldn't refuse that voice, and I almost left, but, I couldn't and I wouldn't. "Sam, what happened, why are you covered in bruises, why are you here, what's wrong?" I hated barging into her personal life like that, but I had to help her. "Stop asking questions." "Sorry, Sam, I know I don't usually barge in and ask a lot of questions, but I want to help you." I sat down next to her, and hugged her. She put her head on my shoulder and cried.
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