A/N: I have no decent excuse for my lack of updates. But here's a chapter.
Sam's POV:
Freddie easily caught me around the waist, but my momentum sent us tumbling back. He rolled quickly enough to make me dizzy, pinning my hands by my head. I squirmed, and raised a knee to hit him where the sun don't shine. He intercepted me easily, straddling my waist and smirking.
"Sam. You can't win against me anymore. I'm sorry." He said softy, still wearing that infuriating smirk. I jerked my wrist, twisting it out of my grip and slapping him. He instantly grabbed my wrist again, but his eyes were on fire, mouth in a harsh scowl.
He leaned down, pressing me into his sheets, and gave me the coldest glare. I shivered.
"Listen. To. Me. You are not invincible, Sam, regardless of how much you may think you are. You're human, and you have weaknesses. Just. Like. Everyone. Else." His tone is icy, and his eyes are hard. "You need to accept that you need help. And I'm here to give it. Let me in, Sam! Let me in your head!"
I let out a wordless cry, stopped struggling and went limp. I knew, for the yet another time that night, warm tears were coursing down my face. His expression softened, but he didn't let me up.
He knew better.
Just because I was crying didn't mean I'd lost my anger.
He held me there as I cried, suspending himself just above me so as not to squish me. A small part of my mind admired his endurance, but the rest was still pissed and upset with him. Who did he think he was? I could handle this myself, I didn't need his help! I'd find a way! I always did.
I didn't need him.
And yet, a small part of me, in the back of my mind, cried out. What did I have to lose? What right did I even have to pride? I'd done the most degrading things, and yet I refused help for the sake of pride?
What was wrong with me?
I felt something inside me break, and all the fight leaked out through the gaping hole it left. I unclenched my fists, and Freddie slid off of me. I curled onto my side, my face in my hands and the sobs racked through my body. I heard him sigh, and he pulls me closer.
And then I'm in his lap, and he's running a hand through my hair, untangling it with his fingers, the other arm holding me in place. My face is buried in his shoulder, and his scent washes over me. He smells like dark chocolate and citrus, a strangely amazing mix that just so Freddie.
He doesn't say anything, and all the tension is gone from his body as he simply holds me. Then there's a thump by the door, and he stiffens. I pull away, and we both stare. Slowly, oh so slowly, he slides me off of his lap and onto the bed, carefully standing, and soundlessly heads to the door. He brings a finger to his lips, something I can still see even though all we have is the weak Seattle moonlight through his window.
And his hand rests on the knob, where he hesitates for the briefest second, than wrenches it open forcefully. Carly and his mom tumble into his room, and I'm surprised he doesn't break the knob his hand's so tightly gripping it.
He releases it, raising is hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tight. Carly stares up at him in shock, then turns her gaze to me. I can see the annoyance in her eyes and I flinch. His mother scrambles up, babbling excuses I don't hear. The muscles in Freddie's arms tense, and I can feel the waves of anger rolling off of him from where I'm seated several feet away.
"What," He grounds out, voice strained. "The hell do you think you're doing?"
Carly's perfectly sculpted brows draw together in confusion, then dip and her clear brown eyes narrow. Even angry, she still looks perfect.
"I think the better question is what are you doing, Freddie?" She asks, voice dripping with venom. "Why is she here? She's just a jealous, crazy bitch."
I felt my own eyes narrow. Freddie's eyes snap open and his mouth opens, but I beat him to it.
"Funny, coming from the selfish brat." I spat. She's standing, now, and she whirls to me.
"Shut up, at least I'm not some blonde demon girl with violence issues." She fires back.
"At least I'm not a backstabbing, shallow, bitch!" I scream back.
"You're right!" Carly snarls, and her face takes on a sadistic look. "But I'm not a cheap, trailer trash, dirt-poor, ugly, disgusting, violent, mannerless, unclassy, stupid, vicious whore with mommy issues and a need for attention."
I jerked back, feeling like I'd just been slapped. Tears spring annoyingly to my eyes yet again tonight, and I bite my lip and turn away.
"Fine." I mumble softly. "Maybe I am. I'm sorry for infecting your perfect, shiny life with my awful presence. You won't have to deal with me anymore."
Because there's only so much I can take before I give in, and she's hit that limit and blown it to pieces. At least she saw me for what I was, at least she didn't lie. I turn my face away, letting my hair act as a curtain. I can hear Freddie yelling, but I can't bring myself to comprehend his words. Mechanically, I stand up and head for the window.
I silently slip out, shivering in the cold breeze and making my way down slowly, gaining speed as I go. And then I hit the ground running, arms and legs pumping, a part of me praying that I could just outrun it all and finally be free. I can see my house from here, and I push myself faster.
It's not until I'm a house away when I register the flashing lights and the sirens. My mother is being dragged outside by two burly cops, screaming profanities at the top of her lungs, my name thrown in here and there, smoke from her many cigarettes wafting behind her, leaving a wispy trail. She catches my eyes, and cackles gleefully, pointing with a bony finger.
"There she is!" She howls. "It's her fault! She's the one who's been taking customers and money! She's the one you wanna arrest! I'm innocent! That little bitch is the one!"
Her short blonde hair is mussed, her once-striking blue eyes faded and wild. Her clothes hang off of her thin frame, much like my own. She gives off the impression of hysterical insanity, frantic, jerky movements and a chilling voice.
Then I see the two cops heading for me, and without thinking, I turn around and sprint as fast I can. I don't know where to go, but I need to get away. I can't go to Freddie's, I just create problems. Carly's is out, I now know what she truly thinks. Gibby's just a random kid, he can't help.
It's now I wish I'd made more friends. But Carly's always been the popular one. I'd been the sidekick. And I'd never minded. Staying in the shadows made it easier to hide the bruises and scars, after all. The ones I couldn't hide I made up stories for.
Turns out, though, it left me broken and running for everything I have with nowhere to go and no one to save me. Or so I think, until I'm caught around the waist by strong arms it takes me a second to place.
I'd been running blindly, and hadn't seen him or heard him call my name, but now Freddie's got me locked tight in his embrace, refusing to let me go despite my struggles. His voice breaks through my panic, and I can see the cops catch up to us.
"-am! Sam, stop! Stop struggling! Sam! SAM!" Freddie's yelling, and I do the only thing I can think of.
I scream.
Freddie's hand clamps down over my mouth, muffling my scream as he turn me around swiftly enough to make me dizzy. Before I can react he has my face in between his hands, forcing me to look at him.
"Calm. Down." He commands, eyes serious, jaw hard, brown hair tousled, and cheeks flushed from running. I gulp in a few breaths, closing my eyes and forcing my emotions down and control back over myself. I realize I'm shaking when his hands slide down to my upper arms, and his firm grip steadies me.
One of the cops clears her throat, and I step away from him. He releases me easily, except for my hand. The uniformed woman steps forward, nodding to Freddie but not removing her eyes from me.
"We have reason to believe you have participated in drug trafficking, as well as underage drinking and illegal use of prescription drugs." She said emotionlessly. Freddie tenses, and I let out a slow breath.
"On what grounds?" I inquire calmly. "My crackwhore of a mother?" Shock flashes across her face before she recovers her mask of indifference, and I smirk. She seemed like the kind of woman who wanted, and got, shit done when she said it, how she said it, and still didn't lift a finger. She probably was expecting a tearful confession of some kind, maybe me blaming it on my deadbeat mother.
I love proving people wrong.
"So you are indeed Samantha Puckett?" She asks arrogantly. I snorted, and she raised an eyebrow.
"No, my name is Missy Robinson." I said sincerely. "I'm so glad you asked, I don't want to be confused me with that disgusting Sam girl."
Freddie gave my hand a warning squeeze, and I wound our fingers together in reassurance, an unspoken I know what I'm doing.
The second cop stepped forward, and my sickly sweet smile fell. I would have been able to talk my way out of it if this wasn't the same cop who was present for both of my sentences to juvie and one of my arrests. He was a big, burly, dark-skinned man with a permanent glare and a temper the size of Mount. Everest.
"Hi, George." I groaned, and he nodded minutely in recognition before grabbing my arm forcefully and yanking me away from Freddie.
"Hey! Wait - Sam!" Freddie exclaimed, and George grunted.
"Freddie, stop." I told him quietly. He stared at me, incredulous, one hand out towards me. "Go home. I'll see you sometime later."
"Sam!" He said again, taking a step forward.
"Freddie, no! Please!" I reply, my voice rising a few octaves. I force myself to even it out. "I'll be fine. I'll call you later."
He opens his mouth to reply, but George has apparently had enough, as he pushes past Freddie and drags me to the squad car that just pulled up. Shoving me in the back seat, he slams the door and gets in the passenger side. I sigh, pulling my knees up and dropping my head into them.
Tada! Dedicated to cocoa85715, who sent me the most lovely review and reminded me to update this :) Hope you enjoyed! :D