A/N: I'm trying to make up for my crazy update schedule by pretty much just updating each story. Here's this one. R&R. Don't own shit but George.
The ride back to my house doesn't take long, barely five minutes. I don't say anything, neither does the cop driving, George, or the ant on my foot.
Sometimes I think there's something wrong with me. More so than is obvious, anyways.
The door is opened, and I'm pushed to the side as my mother is forced in. She's silent, and I can feel the icy wave of fear prickle up my spine. Then the door is shut and the car starts again. For a few seconds, everything is still. Then she turns her head slowly, oh so slowly, to face me.
Her eyes are red and bloodshot, and I can smell the scent of drugs, sex, and cheap liquor from her skin and breath even though I'm sitting a good foot away, squished by the other door. Her short blonde hair is tousled, her teeth yellowed from years of cigarettes.
"Just gonna leave me there, were you? Ungrateful little bitch." She says, staring straight ahead. I wince, sighing.
"It'd be your own damn fault, mom." I reply tiredly.
"Don't take that tone with me!" She screams, spinning to face me.
"Don't get arrested!" I scream back.
"LADIES!" George bellows, and we fall silent.
The rest of the ride is tense and silent, and my mom is hauled out and handcuffed. I'm led out a little more gently, but they clamp handcuffs on me as well, ignoring my requests for looser cuffs.
We're led to an interrogation room, and I'm first. I sit on the chair, having stepped through my hands so I can place them comfortably in my lap. A female officer is let in, and she takes a seat across me, setting down a thick file.
"Samantha Puckett?" She asks. She's a lot softer then most of the cops, warm green eyes and soft brown hair pulled into a loose bun. Her face is open and innocent, and she wears a simple pink blouse with a black pencil skirt.
"Sadly," I reply, dropping my gaze to the table, and, more specifically, the size of that folder.
"I have the records for both you and your mother, as well as the charges that were placed today. Is there anything you want to ask?" She says, tapping the folder when she mentions the records.
"Actually," I look back up at her. "Yeah. How'd you catch her?"
"So you aren't denying the charges?" She presses.
"Lady, I don't even know her charges. I want to know what caused the cops to show up and drag my mother kicking and screaming, literally, from our house." I say, moving my hands to the table and leaning forward.
"We had a call from a Carly Shay, and she reported illegal drug use and willing prostitution from both a minor and the guardian. She said to tell you she'd known for a while." She says, and I can't withhold my gasp of shock.
"Please tell me you're joking…that bitch! Sorry." I tack on a quick apology when she winces, but she gestures for me to continue. "Look, I got in a fight with her earlier this week and she's crazy bitter. Willing prostitution? Do I look like a crack whore? Because that's bullshi- ah, lies. I'm not denying my mom's charges, because to be honest with you, I haven't been home for a day or so and she can get up to a lot when she wants to. I've managed to keep her relatively legal so far, but this is just nuts."
She looks taken aback, and I smile sweetly. I might like her better then the others, but it doesn't mean I won't fuck with her head.
"So you know the girl who called?" She asks finally. I stare at her flatly, with a look that clearly says 'No shit.' "Okay, and you say your mom is, in fact, selling herself and trafficking illegal substances?"
"If you mean crack, weed, and whoring, then I wouldn't exactly be surprised if that's what you're asking." I tell her, the weight of condemning my mother resting heavily on my shoulders. It's the last thing I want, but I know she'll be safer in custody then anywhere else and that I don't plan on staying in Seattle much longer.
"And for yourself, would you be willing to take a polygraph?" She asks.
"Can minors take those?" I muse. "Nevermind. Sure, whatever. It's not like I have much to hide, you've pretty much ransacked my life story just now."
She winces again, and I ignore it, playing with the cuticle on my left thumb.
"I think you're free to go. We'll contact you when we need you." She says, face slightly white. I stand, striding out of the room and presenting my wrists to George, who reluctantly unlocks the cuffs. Smiling brightly at him, I take my leave of the station.
I don't want to go home, and Carly's - backstabbing bitch - place is no longer an option. To Freddie's it is.
God, that's weird.
~Seddie~
I knock on the door, shifting my weight from foot to foot. I know Carly's home, I can hear her on the phone. And then the sounds cuts off, and I'm silently begging Freddie to open the damn door already when she opens her own.
"What's a matter? Mommy in jail already?" She asks, sickly sweet. I cringe, turning to face her.
"You would know about that, wouldn't you?" I ask bitterly. "Tell me, how'd you guess?"
"I followed you to your shitty little hovel and watched her sell you to some guy for sex and a bag of drugs. Honestly, Sam, if that's even your name, who are you? Why did you think you could just be friends with people like Freddie and I? We're so high above you it's sad. I mean, I know your pathetically lonely," Here she gives me a pitying look, taking in my worn penny tee, another inside joke between Freddie and I when it reads Mustard Baby, my torn jeans and my scuffed knock-off converse.
And then she continues. "But honestly, the only reason either of us stuck around is because you're so pathetic, it's like kicking a baby. But I guess I'm a baby kicker now, because I can't stand how you treat us like shit when you are shit. I'll tell you to call me when you grow up, but I forgot, you're phone probably doesn't even work it's so obsolete."
"What the hell is your problem,you crazy bitch?" I ask, infuriated. "I'm so sorry I'm not some rich preppy airhead like you, but at least I have a damn heart! Did you really think I was going to take all of your shit laying down? Are you stupid? I will get revenge, believe you me. You will regret that fucking call with every fiber of your being when I'm done with you. You will by on your knees, begging me for mercy. And I will stare down at you, and I will ask you where the fuck all that mercy was when you tore my life to pieces and continued to be a total bitch all because I'm not good enough for you."
I'm breathing hard when I finish, chest heaving and face flushed. She looks terrified, and I smile dangerously. She slams her door in my face - I'd taken a few steps forward just to scare her - and I can hear the tumbler click and her multiple locks being set.
"…Damn." I jump, spinning, and see Freddie leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed and a small, sad smile on his face. "Well done, I was wondering when you'd stand up to her again."
"How long have you been standing there?" I ask, brows drawing together in worry.
"Long enough," He says, pushing off the door frame and stepping into the hall. He drops his forehead to mine, closing his eyes and sighing as he wraps his arms around my waist.
"I'm sorry you had to hear that." I say softly, playing with the collar of the blue plaid shirt he's changed into. I don't have to look up to know he's opened his eyes, but I do when he chuckles.
"What?" I ask defensively, about to shove him away. As if sensing this, he tightens his arms briefly, letting me know that's not going to happen.
"Nothing, it's just you shouldn't be sorry. She's being a bitch, and I've no idea why, but it's not your fault. I'm actually glad to hear you put her in her place. I love that you're strong enough to fight your own battles, you know that." He tells me, and I tip my head back a little to look him in the eyes directly, he doesn't release me, but he pulls away enough so there's a few inches of space between us. I don't give myself a chance to think, because I'll chicken out like I always do, and when he says he loves me, even a part of me, it's a reaction I can't hold back.
So I press my lips to his, and I can feel him smile into the kiss as he responds hungrily. It's a short kiss, but it's fiery and it's a release of all the emotions I've had pent up. He tastes like he smells, which would normally be weird but is somehow only intoxicating as he slips his mouth to the corner of mine and begins trailing kisses over my face.
My eyes are closed, and a blissful calming feeling in on me as his lips brush my nose, cheeks, forehead, eyelids. It's soft and innocent, and it's exactly what I need right now. I don't know why we broke up so long ago, only that I'd regretted it for years.
"I love you, Sam. Always have, always will." He says, lips brushing my ear, and I shiver. Normally, I would've been scared, would've run away. But nothing's been normal lately, and where's the fun in normal, anyways? So I kiss him again fiercely, and when we pull away, breathless, I tuck my head into his neck and tell him what I've been dying to tell him for a long, long time.
"I love you, Freddie Benson. With all of my heart, even if that's not a smart thing to do, giving it all to one person. But it's not like I had a choice, it wasn't even mine to begin with. It was always yours." It's sickeningly sappy, and so out of character for me to admit that. We both know it, but I am a teenage girl who's life has just been yanked out from under her and who only wants a single, stable thing in the remains. So I think I'm entitled to spill my guts if I think I can actually keep this happiness this time.
Of course, that's when his mother shows up.
This story's nearing ten thousand words, my longest one yet. I plowed through the scene in the station, and I actually quite like it. Once I got past the squad car, it came relatively easily. So awesome, I'm back to writing this effortlessly.
Lemme know what you thought, and any predictions or ideas you have. Anything you want to see? Let me know, and I'll see what I can do :)