Twist of Fate

An Until Dawn Fanfiction

Chapter 3:

Second Chance for a First Impression

Sam practically jumped out of bed at five the next morning. She made sure her alarm was set for 5:45 about ten times, but she was so paranoid that she hardly slept at all. She didn't want to be late for her second session with Elliot Roth—her Josh Washington doppelganger. All night she just saw his eyes staring at her; they were impossible to block out and it led to a restless night.

At one point, Liam draped his arm around her and told her he could wear her out if she wasn't tired. But she didn't trust herself to have sex with him. Only Josh was on the brain so who knows where her mind may have taken her.

"It's just…cramps," she told him. It was enough to make him roll back over and go to sleep.

Sam grabbed her iPod for her morning run. Once again, the sky was dark but this time she had music to block out all the noise. She flipped through the artists and played Cascada. Fast and upbeat was just what she needed to start her day that never really ended.

The song started and her legs moved.

"I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house…"

She remembered Cascada playing during the night of the twins' disappearance. Whoever was in charge of the music decided to blast "Because the Night" so loud that she even heard it outside. Which was nice, because it gave her and Josh some background noise for their little snow adventure.

"Come on now, try to understand—the way I feel when I'm in your hands…"

"Bet I can make a better snow angel than you," she teased him before falling straight back into the fluffy snow and waving her arms and legs.

"How is that a fair contest?" He asked, staring down at her smiling face, "Mine would be more of a snow demon, don't ya think?"

"Oh, come on, Josh! Make snow art with me! Is that better?" She laughed when he rolled his eyes but grinned at her. He turned around, spread his arms, then fell straight back. He landed arms-length away from her but stayed completely still.

Sam looked over at him, pausing her movement, "That doesn't count, you gotta move!" She grabbed his hand in hers, making him move his arm up and down to match hers.

"Love is an angel disguised as lust—here in our beds 'til the morning comes…"

"Now we're like snow fallen angels who fell from heaven together," she sounded a bit too happy for such a grim statement.

"Very poetic, Sammy," he commented before rolling onto his side so he was facing her, their gloved hands still holding on, "Didn't mean to make you fall with me."

His tone was one-hundred-percent joking but his words made her stomach flip-flop and tumble and she wished she could meet his intense stare, but she was afraid she'd give herself away if she stared too long. So instead she just closed her eyes and relaxed into the snow. She thought—maybe if she wasn't looking—Josh would try to surprise her with a kiss…

And maybe he was considering it. But before anything could happen, Mike was yelling from the cabin door, "Hey, you two! We're about to take shots, wanna join?"

Sam popped her eyes open to see the desire to join in on shot taking flash across Josh's face. She frowned a bit, disappointed that he was choosing alcohol over her. Then again, she reasoned, maybe a few shots were just what they needed. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone.

A little turned out to be a huge understatement. While the rest of her friends stopped at two shots, Josh and Chris got into a stupid bro-contest or some shit and they wanted to see which one of them could outlast the other.

Sam remembered seeing Hannah lean close to Josh with a concerned look at her face. She whispered something in his ear but he waved her off, "I just wanna have a good time with friends tonight, Hann. I'll be fine."

Hannah looked like she wanted to say something more, but then Mike called her name and she left Josh's side. Sam watched as Josh and Chris took shot after shot.

"Maybe you guys should stop for the night…" Sam suggested, scared she would have to call an ambulance due to alcohol poisoning.

"No, no, no…" Josh shook his head, blindly reaching for her hand and finding it on the third try. He pulled her close to him and she could smell all the alcohol in his breath and see it in his eyes, "Never stop, Sam…never stop."

"Never stop what?" She asked, even though she should have known it was useless trying to talk to a wasted person.

But he smiled at her and she wanted to believe it was genuine, "Never stop being beautiful…" she blushed when he pushed her hair behind her ear. His fingers were burning up, "You're the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world." He was slurring his words and it made her inwardly cringe, but she still longed to hear more.

"Thought that—forever!" Chris chimed in, but his speech was more impaired than Josh's, and he promptly dropped his head to his arm and passed out. Sam looked worriedly at him before turning back to Josh.

"You're drunk, Josh…maybe I should get you to bed…"

His dazed eyes brightened and he raised his eyebrows, "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Sammy? To get me to bed again?" Sam's face flushed even more because she didn't like the way he brought it up like this. "Want to know a secret?" He mumbled out, his fingers slipping down to her neck.

"Walk away, Sam!" She yelled to herself but her feet stayed planted.

"I would do…so many things to you in bed...I gained a bit of experience, ya know," he confessed and her body suddenly went ice cold. It was like all of her worst fears being shoved in her face at once, and she didn't know whether to run away and cry or punch him in the face.

Then he was leaning in toward her, but somewhere upstairs, she heard Beth call Hannah's name worriedly. It caught Sam's attention and she turned away from Josh, saying quickly and devoid of all emotion: "I need to go check on your sisters."

"Even though going on with you gone still upsets me. There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay—."

Sam brought herself back to the present. She realized she somehow had her iPod on repeat and the current song had played for the last seven minutes. She sometimes wondered what that night would have been like if Josh didn't get himself drunk and all the others didn't decide to pull that stupid prank on poor Hannah. They probably would be married and have a couple kids of their own by now…

She felt bad for wishing it had turned out like that. She was engaged to Liam now. If things had gone any differently, she never would have met him. And that had to count for something…right?

"What hurts the most…was being so close…and having so much to s—."

Tugging on the cords, her earplugs popped out of her ears. She was nearing the trail again and had to make a decision if she was going to take the unknown trail or stay on the familiar road. She eyed the dark path wearily, but continued to jog past it. "Maybe tomorrow…?"

She slowed to a walk when she rounded the last corner and spotted her house. Placing her hands behind her head, she looked up into the cloudy night sky. She thought about seeing J—Elliot in a few hours and her heart fluttered. She knew it was wrong to think of her patient and feel this giddy. Her goal was to help him get past his troubles, yet even though she only had one session with him, she wanted their sessions to linger on forever. But he told her that she would be the last therapist he'd ever see. She couldn't let him down…

Maybe Josh had a twin brother she didn't know about. If his parents were able to have one set of twins, who's to say they didn't have two sets? Yet she was fairly certain she would have known about Elliot at some point…

She walked into her dark house; she started her morning jog so early that Liam wasn't even up yet. That was fine, because now she could focus on getting ready and looking her best. Her first session with Elliot was a mess; her looks, her presence, her thoughts—all screwed up. She was determined to be more presentable today.

November 4th - Session 2 - Elliot Roth

Sam was at work one hour early. She even made it in before Bryana who usually arrived at 7:30. That was fine—it gave her time to herself to tidy up her office. She walked in and looked at the spot where she spilled coffee, but it was like it never happened. Whatever carpet cleaning company Bryana called to come in really did a great job. Still—Sam knew it happened and she imagined seeing that dark stain that stood out on her white carpet. It was a reminder…it could physically be erased, but she'd never forget.

She opened her file cabinet and took out Elliot Roth's file. She grabbed her briefcase and slipped out her write-up on him, glancing over the Individual Psychotherapy Session form and the SOAP notes: Subjective, Objective, Assessment, Plan. It was a lot of short one sentences—usually she could write large paragraphs of her new patients, but Elliot was…he was an enigma. She felt like she wanted to write a novel on him...but maybe not really him. She hardly knew Elliot at all.

"Client appeared alert and cooperative."

"Client was very articulate, possibly overcompensating."

"Maintained eye contact 80% of the time (challenging 70%, interest 10%)."

"Continue current treatment activities."

Sam placed her elbow on her desk, her hand cradling her forehead as she continued to skim her notes. She was considering calling some of his past therapists to see if they got anywhere with him, or they were all literally dead ends like Elliot said they were.

"Good morning, Dr. Jensen." Sam looked up to see Bryana peeking into her office. "I saw your car parked out front and knew you were here…"

Sam smiled, "Yes, thought I'd come in early and be a bit more prepared for my new client this time."

"Ah, well…Mr. Roth was actually outside when I came in…so…he's a half an hour early, but I—."

"You can send him in," Sam said a little too quickly and eagerly. She stood up from her desk and smoothed out her black blazer and pencil skirt, "No reason to have him wait thirty minutes when I'm ready for him now."

Bryana nodded, "I'll send him right it."

Sam's heart began thumping so hard she had to place her hand over her chest to remember to calm down. Maybe she should have given herself a pep speech before just telling Bryana to send Josh—Elliot ("Damn, I need to stop doing that!") in.

"I am a warrior. Brave, strong, and knowledgeable." She breathed in and breathed out. In and out. In and—

Elliot slipped in the door, not even glancing at her as he made his way to the couch. He sat down stiffly, his posture completely erect as he stared at some pictures on her wall. He seemed particularly interested in the painting of the ocean. The brush strokes used to create it made it look like the waves were actually moving when it was looked at from different angles.

Sam studied him for a moment, trying to calm the rush. She silently closed her office door before pressing record on her tape player, saying her quick, "Patient Elliot Roth, Age 29, Session 2 on November 4th, 2024", and sitting down in the chair across from Elliot. He was still staring at the painting.

"Have you ever been to the ocean, Elliot?"

He shrugged, "I dunno. Maybe."

Normally, Sam would have made him elaborate to keep him talking. But the way he kept staring at the painting made her feel like he was getting more therapy from that than her. She took the opportunity to study him. The scarred side of his face was toward her. She could see the jagged, faint lines that jutted from the side of his mouth. It was almost like he tried to give himself a permanent smile but then thought better of it. His left eye seemed to shine unnaturally. When the light caught it just right, it appeared to glow. She thought it might be a fake eye, but it still was too similar to his right eye to be sure.

"You?" She blinked when she heard him speak, her breath hitching when he slowly turned his gaze to her.

"Hmm? Me?"

"Have you ever been to the ocean?" He asked in a monotonous tone as though he couldn't care one way or the other.

Sam smiled anyway, "Yes, many times. I used to go with my best friends every year."

She thought back to one of the last times the Washington's invited her to go on vacation with them. They stayed at a beautiful beach resort for three days. Each sibling was allowed to bring one guest. Hannah, of course brought Sam, Josh brought Chris, and Beth brought Ashley (because Emily was busy with a weekend getaway with Mike). It was perfect—just the six of them. She remembered that Josh brought his camcorder and filmed a lot of the trip…probably hoping he could catch a shark attack on camera or something.

He didn't respond, so she continued, "You have any friends, Elliot?"

"I dunno. Maybe." He answered with the same words again. She frowned at his response. "Sorry, I'm supposed to be more cooperative, right? I don't want any red marks on my report card."

"You answer as best you can," she told him, "If you don't know if you have any friends, then how about you tell me about the people you talk to fairly regularly?"

"I try not to talk to people. No one really sees…eye to eye with me," he winked his right eye so only the abnormal eye was staring at her.

Sam tried not to be perturbed by it, but his words and actions made it feel like she was talking to Hannibal Lector, "Let's talk about what happened to your eye."

"As far as I know, it's always been like this. I guess it wasn't enough to be born messed up on the inside."

"I like your eyes," Sam commented with a straight face, "They make you—unique."

"And that's what eeeveryone longs to be, right?" He sighed and glanced around her office again, his eyes landing on her framed diploma, "Samantha Jensen…you look exactly the way I pictured you."

She hurriedly licked her lips when her mouth ran dry. His voice got deeper somehow when he said it, the huskiness in his voice almost driving her crazy, "Oh? And how do I look to you, Elliot?"

His gaze roamed over to her. The electricity between their eyes could have been enough to blow the power out. He stayed silent and she tried her best to be patient and see if he would answer her question. A whole minute came and went, but he never responded.

She decided to move on, "You were here really early this morning. Are you normally an early riser?"

He dropped his hands to his sides; Sam took note on his thumbs that nervously rubbed back and forth across all of his fingers, "I never went to sleep last night."

Sam nodded slowly, noting that he must not have taken the sleeping pills she prescribed, "Restless nights can happen to everyone. I didn't get much sleep last night either."

Elliot squinted his eyes slightly, the corners of his lips only pulling up a millimeter, "Your fiancé keep you up?"

She cocked her head to the side and mimicked his squint, "You noticed my engagement ring."

"How can I not, the thing's a fucking boulder," he leaned forward and, just like before, Sam was powerless to resist leaning in as well. It was like he had magnetic powers and was able to draw her in at his will, "Can I ask you something, Doctor?"

She folded in her lips and crossed her legs. She clasped her fingers together and placed her hands in her lap to avoid fidgeting, "How about we play a game?"

"Ooo…I love" (Sam payed close attention to the way his tongue rolled slowly in his mouth when he enunciated the word) "games…"

"Perfect. The rules of the game are simple—you ask me a question, then I ask you one. But we can only answer yes or no."

He burst into laughter so loud that it made her jump, but it was obviously fake as it was short-lived. His face scrunched up and he looked angered; he stood up from the couch and paced the length of her office, "That's a poor fucking game, Doctor. It's people like you who think everything is black and white, and maybe in your pretty little head it is, but not MINE! Y-you think the world revolves a-around…around right and wrong decisions but it isn't like that!"

Sam uncrossed her legs but remained seated as she watched him let off steam. She felt no physical threat from him despite his raised voice and hoped Bryana wasn't hearing all of it and getting worried.

"The world i-it's grey, and this eye, my fucked up eye," he pointed to it as if she never noticed before, "all it sees is…like, this grey filmy shit, like someone put thick plastic over it and no matter how hard I scratch and scratch, it doesn't come off!"

Her eyebrows furrowed at his words. Her lips rounded and she caught herself about to call him Josh again. He interrupted her before she could say anything.

"I mean, what's next, are you going to show me those stupid ink blot tests? Th-then write up an evaluation about why I think some random black puke stain looks like an orgy or-or a butterfly that's seen better days or a fucking monster with sharp teeth!"

Sam's eyes grew large for a moment. His last words felt so oddly specific to her, yet the more rational part of her brain was reminding her that it was actually a generic description. Almost all monsters are described as having sharp teeth, right? Isn't that what makes a monster a monster?

"I apologize, Elliot," she said softly, watching him closely as he continued to pace, "I know you've been seeing a lot of therapists and it was wrong of me to treat you like this was your first day."

He only briefly glanced at her, his hands running back through his hair, gripping onto the ends and pulling, "I…just…it's like fucking Groundhog Day…"

"You know what…" she stood up slowly and neared him, the pulling of his hair looking so painful she almost felt it herself. She stepped in front of him and gently grabbed his wrists, tugging only with enough pressure to show him that she wanted him to stop, but ultimately it was up to him, "how about you decide what we're going to do in our sessions?"

His breathing began to slow and he looked at her hands on him as if it was the first human contact he'd ever had. Then his eyes met hers, and fuck, fuck it all, she felt tears sting her nose and eyes. He looked even more like Josh up close…aside from Elliot's scars, everything was a perfect match.

It brought her back to another time right after his sister's disappearance. She was still going over his house as much as she could, but every time she arrived, it always felt like something wasn't quite right. His parents were either never there or, if they were, they never spoke to her. And she didn't think they spoke to Josh. She would find him in his room, listening to music and staring off into space.

Finally, one day he said to her, "I need to get out of here…"

So, without thinking about it, he brought him to her mom's house where she was staying at the time. Margaret always welcomed all of Sam's friends and made sure to treat each of them like they were her own, so she had no problem with Josh staying with them.

"I'm so sorry about what happened, honey, they were like daughters to me…" Margaret told Josh when he first arrived, wrapping him up in her arms and embracing him tightly. Sam smiled when Josh allowed himself to sink into it. Her little five foot tall mother looked to be cradling this five-foot-nine man and yet it seemed so natural.

Margaret cooked them a huge meal that first time, and it might as well have been Thanksgiving. After dinner, she told Sam and Josh to go relax, insisting they not have to help clean up. The two teenagers went outside on the porch swing, and Sam never even hesitated to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Thanks for inviting me over," he said lowly, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. She wondered if he was trying to whisper but didn't know how…

"You…needed to get out of your house for a while. Sorry I couldn't take you anywhere fancy," she laughed shortly.

Josh put his mouth to the top of her head and she felt his mouth tense—he may have just kissed her, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Sam..."

She raised her head and looked at him, her eyes studying his features up close. He still looked so…so tired. She thought about kissing him, but then he pressed the sides of their foreheads together and closed his eyes. She looked out into her yard where that one big tree still stood, and facing her, was that infamous J+S carving.

"Would you like to sleep on the guest bed or my bed?" she asked him absently, feeling awful for disturbing their moment but she didn't want him falling asleep outside.

She heard the smile in his voice, "Don't tempt me, Sammy…"

Blushing, she tugged on his hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom. His overnight bag was at the foot of her bed, and she tried not to stare as he got out his toothbrush, toothpaste, and a small bottle of pills before disappearing into the bathroom across the hall.

She heard him shake a few pills out of the bottle before the faucet turned on.

She bit her lip, wondering if they were just pills to help him sleep. If so, they didn't seem to work very well as he was always tired and hardly even slept.

When he was back in her bedroom, he sat down at the end of her bed and looked even more dazed than before. She wished she was brave enough to ask him what was really going on, but thought she would sound like she was nagging—if he wanted her to know, he would tell her.

"Thanks for inviting me over," he said again as if he never said it twenty minutes ago.

"You're welcome anytime, Josh. My mom loves you."

A tiny tug of his lips was all she was awarded with. Then his eyes became glassy and his stare was almost vacant. Worriedly, she dropped to her knee in front of him and grabbed both sides of his face, "Josh? Josh, are you okay?"

She was glad when he managed to focus on her for a moment, "Yeah, just…tired." It was always his excuse recently.

Her eyes searched for any other sign, and when she couldn't find anyway, she leaned in slowly, cautiously, until her lips just barely brushed his. His lips were dry, but they tensed just enough for her to tell that he was trying to kiss her back (or at least make it a real kiss), but no matter how hard his body tried, his mind wasn't there.

"I'll let you get some sleep," she said sadly before laying him back on her bed.

Back to the present, Sam swallowed and nodded when Elliot was finally calm. She released his wrists and stepped out of her personal bubble, "You told me I'm the last therapist you're going to see. So let's make this work. I'm not going to pretend to know you, so help me get to know you so I can help you."

Elliot stared at her like she was one of the Seven Wonders of the World. Sam flitted her eyes away from him, covering it by making it seem like she was just going to her chair again to sit down.

"Does that work for you?" She asked and felt satisfied with herself when he nodded and sat down on the couch again. "Perfect. So…what do you want to do?"

He glanced over at the clock on the wall, "I mean…how much time do I have left?"

"My next appointment isn't until ten-thirty," she stated simply.

"Yeah, but…how much time do I have?"

She shrugged, "That's entirely up to you, Elliot."

"Wow…um, okay," it was obvious that he was completely caught off guard, but seeing the interest in his eyes was a breakthrough in and of itself. "So…I'm living in this shitty apartment right now and there's always all this shady stuff going on, but it's like no one even cares and I think that's why I chose it. But here's the thing…" he leaned forward and Sam leaned forward as well, "I have like…millions of dollars in my bank account but I have no idea how long it's been there. I can't remember a time when it wasn't there."

Sam's eyes widened unexpectedly, "Is that why you don't spend it on a fancy place? You think it might be someone else's?"

"I…yeah, maybe. I don't know! It's not like I ever tried to hide it…and no one's come after me. I sometimes think…what if I'm not Elliot Roth, y-you know? But like…I stole his identity and don't remember? I know that sounds crazy but I guess that's why I'm here. It's like I don't have real memories. They don't feel real anyway."

"Can you elaborate? Why don't they feel real?"

"I guess 'cause…they're about people I never met before. Places and houses I never stepped in before. So I think—at first, that maybe I just have really vivid dreams. So many doctors gave me so many kinds of pills over the years…well, at least in the past nine years. I can't remember a time before my stay at the mental asylum. Maybe they gave me too many shock therapies?"

Sam sat back in her chair, the nine years revelation hitting pretty close to home since Josh went missing (he died, you idiot) almost ten years ago. "They didn't tell you anything about yourself before you got there? Did they give you any personal belongings you had before your stay there?"

He shook his head, "Nope, just the clothes I came in wearing…I assume they were mine anyway. But they knew how much money was in my bank account, so they gave me an a card that had a therapist's name and number on it and told me to call him, and as long as I continued seeing one, I could live a normal life outside of the asylum."

Sam chewed on her bottom lip, a habit she was usually unaware of when she was thinking, "That all sounds very…odd. And no one came to pick you up? A relative?"

Elliot shook his head again and leaned back against the couch heavily, "My emergency contact list was completely blank."

"That's…awful…" Sam wanted to look up exactly which asylum this was because she had a few bones to pick with the doctors or nurses who treated him, "If I would have known you back then, I would have been waiting right outside the gate for you."

He didn't say anything to this and she wondered if she crossed a line that shouldn't have been crossed. But she never practiced this kind of therapy before, where her patient was in complete control. There were times when she made her patients feel like they were in control, but she was holding the reins the whole time.

"I remind you of someone you used to know, don't I?" he suddenly asked and it made her heart plummet to her stomach.

But she couldn't lie to him, "Yes…his name was—."

"Josh," he said for her and hearing that name come out of his mouth was like a flashback to the very first time she met Josh and he introduced himself to her. "I know that because you called me that when you first walked in the other day. Also, you slip a lot. I hear the J-sound before you correct yourself. Unless you really want my name to be Jelliot, which is fine, I kinda like it. You say my name a lot to get yourself to remember it though. Of course, all therapists use their patient's names a lot. It makes these sessions feel more intimate, right?"

Sam let out a long breath before forcing herself to smile brightly and nod, "You are very observant. So are you only here because it's a requirement or because you truly think you need it?"

"Well, it may be a requirement, but I already told you that you'd be my last."

"So…" she cradled her cheek and her chin in her palm to hide her amusement, "What are you going to do if I don't live up to your expectations?"

His eyes studied her and his lips parted and she couldn't help but stare at his mouth when he said, "I don't think we have to worry about that…"

She tried to tell herself not to read too much into that statement. He was telling her he was beginning to like her sessions. It was a compliment. A relief. He was going to stay…

Clearing her throat, she got up and went to her desk. She pulled open the middle drawer and grabbed a business card from a small stack. She had business cards displayed on top of her desk, too, but these ones were a bit more personalized. She went back over to him, her body jumping just slightly when he stood up and she hadn't expected him to.

She handed him the card, "I want you to have this. It has my cell phone number on it, in case…you know, you ever need to talk outside of our session." Why are my hands sweaty?

Elliot took the card and scanned over the information. It had the less formal "Sam Jenson, PhD" typed across the top, and underneath she had her office phone and cell phone listed.

He showed off a small smirk, "Is this your personal cell or work cell?"

"They're one in the same," she said, her shoulders relaxing when he seemed pleased with this answer.

Sam tried not to let it bother her when he folded the small business card in half and stuffed it into the pocket of his hoodie like it was a candy wrapper he didn't know what to do with. She was about to sit back down but he was suddenly heading toward her door.

"You're leaving already, Elliot?"

He stopped so quickly it was like a glitch in a video game. She did a double take at the scene, but he only turned his head to the side, not looking directly at her, "Yeah, I should…I should go…"

She narrowed her eyes, concerned with the tone in his voice, "Do you have somewhere else to be?"

"No…"

Forcing a small laugh, she shook her head, "Then you don't have to—did I do something to upset you?" Sam cringed at her words. She sounded like a girlfriend who was trying way too hard to get her boyfriend to stay with her. This wasn't her. It wasn't them. It isn't him! Just because Elliot looks like Josh doesn't give you the right to act unprofessionally.

"Why didn't you take your pills last night?"

"'Cause I didn't want to sleep."

"Why not?"

He looked at her only with his bad eye before turning away again. She wanted to kick herself. The session had been going really well—he was talking on his own, opening up about his past (or what he could remember of it anyway)—then she must have disrupted his flow. Giving him her personal business card threw him off and he was reverting back into himself again.

"Maybe I'll take them tonight," his monotone was back.

"Good…I'm glad. But—you're welcome to stay longer if you want to talk more, but if not—."

Before she could even finish her sentence, he was out the door. She stood there, shocked that she didn't even get a goodbye despite the small breakthrough they made. She looked at the clock; only about a quarter to nine. Sam didn't even realize that over an hour had went by since they started. Time seemed to both fly yet stand still with him.

But it was all well. As if her recorder knew the session had ended, the record button popped itself up to let her know she reached the end of that tape.

To Be Continued...