Author's Note: This story feels longer than it needs to be... I just kinda want it to end already. Gah.

Title: My Hate Isn't Hate (Your Love Isn't Love Sequel)

Chapter Nine: A Place Called Home

Sam stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the beat-up and rickety old house- The home in which she grew up. She walked past the tall weeds and up the front porch, slowly turning the squeaky doorknob. As she entered, she saw everything from the floors, the walls, and the counter tops covered in a thick coat of dust.

Sam couldn't even remember the last time she came back to this place. She figured Melanie never decided to come back either, even though the deed was technically in their names. She stood in the foyer and shifted her view to the foot of the staircase. She remembered back all those years ago on that one night. The night she came back to confront her father.

She remembered entering the house with her father waiting for her on the stairs. She remembered the swift swing he took to her side with that metal baseball bat. Sam placed her hand to her side and inhaled deeply. Her ribs had healed, but it was painful to remember.

Sam moved towards the window and saw that there was still some shattered pieces of glass on the floor. Had nobody really cleaned the house after that night? Sam walked up the squeaky stairs slowly, remembering the portraits that used to hang on the wall. She couldn't even remember where those photos were now. Probably with Melanie somewhere.

This house didn't seem like her old home in the least. The warmth of family was no longer present. This wasn't her home.

Sam walked into her bedroom and saw most of its contents had been moved out long ago. In the room stood only an empty dresser, a bare bed frame, and a purple ceramic bowl that read "Frothy". She remembered the last time she was in this room, collecting her things to move to her foster parent's place. Forced to live somewhere else, forced to call somewhere unfamiliar "home".

Freddie groaned.

"I'll have anuhzer, barkeep..." he slurred, pouring himself a cup of Bourbon, which most definitely wasn't his first. He sighed as he fumbled for his phone and dialed some numbers. The line rang a few times before it picked up.

"Hey, what's up?"

"... C-Carly," Freddie spoke slowly, careful not to trip over his words, "I... I did somethin' shh-tupid."

"Are you drunk, Freddie? How'd you even get alcohol? What happened?"

"It wuz... It wuz sooo shh-tupid, Carl-ayy..." Suddenly, his phone beeped. Freddie looked at the display screen through fuzzy eyes and saw he had another incoming call. "L-lemme call you back, Carlyey.."

"Freddie? Freddie, what'd you do?-" Freddie ignored Carly as he blipped his phone.

"Yeller?"

"Fred. It's me."

"Oh. You. Whadd'ya want witthh me...? H-Haven't you roooined my life enough?"

"I saw Sammy back at the house..."

"H-How?"

Richard laughed. "I got eyes e'erywhere, boy."

"D-Don't hurt her..."

"I won't. You did good, boy. Breakin' it off wit' her..."

"S-Shut up. Let Pam g-go."

"You got the money? In cash?"

Freddie just nodded, his head feeling very heavy.

"Hey- You listenin'? Y'got my money or what?"

Freddie moaned, forgetting for a second that Richard couldn't hear him nodding. "Yeahh..."

"Put it in a bag and then throw it out the window."

Freddie clumsily rummaged through his briefcase and pulled out a hefty wad of money sealed in a fat envelope. He had gone to the bank right after leaving work so he could make the transfer as easily as possible. "Wait. You're outside?" Freddie stumbled towards the fire escape and looked over. The cop car that had been parked in the same spot was no longer there. He looked drowsily for a man resembling Richard but couldn't see straight.

"Throw the money NOW."

"W-Wait..."

"Throw it now, Fred- Or Pam dies!"

Freddie hastily threw the envelope out the window and heard a light thump as it hit the floor. "Richard?" he called out, both into the phone and out the window. No answer. "Richard?" Freddie tried to look to the street to see where the money had landed, but everything was spinning.

Just then, Freddie heard a clattering. "All here, Fred. Sammy will see her mother soon... In hell!" Richard cackled before hanging up abruptly.

Freddie quickly sobered up. He was still intoxicated but knew he had to make sure Sam was alright.

Sam went back into the living room and plopped herself on the old couch. The dust plumed up and caused her to cough. Then she heard an echoing cough. Sam coughed again- This time no echo.

Suddenly, the door knocked loudly followed by a loud thud.

"Who's there?" Sam called out, making her way towards the door cautiously. She heard heavy footsteps leaving the front porch followed by the sounds of distant sirens growing closer. She quickly swung open the door and saw a fragile woman lying ragged on her front porch. "Mom!" Sam choked, falling to her knees. Pam looked so hurt and broken Sam was afraid a hug might crush her.

The sirens quickly grew near and policemen arrived on the scene. "He ran through the back streets! Go after him!" A few policemen hurried up to the front porch and immediately called for paramedics.

"Mom..."

Pam, scared and shaken, looked up at her daughter and the dusty home behind her before contently sighing.

It seemed so dark out even though it was the middle of the day. Almost like it was so dark you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face.

Sirens echoed and flashing lights made everything seem all the more surreal.

"Sam..." Freddie whispered. He wished he could've been closer to see the look of happiness on Sam's face. He could hear Sam's voice echoing in his memory- "Freddie, what'd you do?"

Eh? Maybe it wasn't Sam's voice. Sounded a lot more like Carly's voice.

"Freddie! Freddie!"
Freddie fully opened his eyes and took in his sights and surroundings. "C-Carly?" Freddie slurred, in a drunken daze- He noticed his brunette best friend crouching over his body. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest- Similar to that of a bullet wound. He tried to lurch forward but the motion only made him sick to his stomach and he sprawled back to the floor.

"Wha-"

"Son, what's your name?" A paramedic that was either already there or poofed there all of a sudden spoke up. Freddie peeked his eyes open for a second and realized he was nowhere near Sam's house nor had he even made it out of Shoreline. "Son?"

"N-No..." Freddie managed to gasp out, as he came to a realization.
"Son, do you remember what happened?"

Freddie forced his eyes open and looked past the paramedics, the police, and their cars. He saw Spencer standing on the corner looking worried- Freddie recognized the street corner. Spencer's art studio was only a block away from here.

Freddie had barely left home.

Author's Note: Relatively short chapter, but I was busy this past weekend as I attended an anime convention (yes I'm a nerd- No surprise there...) I am going to try everything in my power to keep my word and update weekly, at the latest by Saturday of the week. I'll typically update on a Thursday or Friday, though.

Thanks for always reading and reviewing :)