Disclaimer: .enim ton si ylraCi

Carly's walked back to her apartment so deeply immersed in thought that her other senses had mostly shut off. She ended up tripping over something twice and accidentally walking smack into a tree. Everything around her felt as if it had stopped. It was no longer vibrant, but just some painting she had been inserted into.

She tried. She tried and tried and tried. But she could not- perhaps would not- understand how Freddie Benson launched an attack like that. This was a kid who once tried everything he could to avoid a fight with GIBBY of all people! With or without the gross website excuse, it simply didn't make any sense. Maybe all those conservative anti-violence protesters were right; maybe certain forms of media did directly cause violent tendencies in others.

But then, why did it happen to Freddie out of all people? Hell, if anyone, Sam should have taken the fall. That's not to say that ANYONE should have or that she would rather it have happened to Sam than Freddie. It just would have made more sense for Sam to do something like that. Then again, Sam was a little more stable than Freddie in a few regards… particularly in dealing with stress. Sam would take her problems head on, in a frenzied sort of way, while Freddie would oftentimes break down.

Carly stopped in front of Freddie's door. She had a feeling he wasn't going to be there, but maybe his mom was. Marissa, of course, probably already knew what happened at the school. Not so sure she wanted to talk to her right now, but feeling obligated, she knocked on the door and patiently stood there. After a few seconds with no answer, she opened the unlocked door.

The smell of various cleaning chemicals invaded Carly's nose, making her cough. The apartment had a sickly, clinical air to it. It was like a hospital. No one really seemed to understand how pathological Marissa's need for cleanliness was.

"Ms. Benson?" Carly called out. She stood at the door and waited. No answer. "Must be at the school with Freddie, talking with a counselor or something…" She shut the door and turned to walk into her own apartment.

"Spencer, I'm home!" Carly dropped her backpack on the couch and listened for Spencer's footsteps coming downstairs to greet her.

"Huh. Is he here?" Carly asked herself after taking a look into Spencer's room, which wasn't a very good idea most of the time. But Carly only looked long enough to note that Spencer wasn't in there. She shrugged. "Must be at the grocery store."

()()()

Spencer stood up from the couch in the waiting room of the hospital. A doctor was walking toward him, clutching a clipboard in his hand. He was very old to be still practicing. "How's Ms. Benson?"

"Not too well, I'm afraid to say. She's delirious," the doctor sat down where Spencer was sitting. "Possible concussion, but she also seems to be showing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. From what I'm not sure."

"That's really weird... I don't know what could have happened to her."

The doctor pursed his lips. A myriad of possibilities ran through his mind. "Could be that she fell over and hit her head on something. You say you found her lying in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, and blood was pooled around her head. A really big puddle. I couldn't believe-"

"Don't upset yourself by dwelling on it, young man." The doctor thought for a little while. "You know, the paramedics said that they found her cell phone on the ground close to her."

()()()

The studio was a good place to be alone, even more so than Carly's own room. There was an atmosphere of comfort, but mixed with solitude that allowed anyone's mind a little more room to reflect.

Carly had already texted Sam with the odd news, and she was coming over later. She had also texted Freddie, asking him to talk as soon as he could. The problem was that she had no idea how to approach this situation. Was she just supposed to ask him, "Hey, why did you try to eat some kid's face?" Well, Sam would probably do that, if she hasn't already.

"Hey, Carly." Carly, previously lost in thought, jumped a little in the beanbag chair she was sitting in. She was not expecting Sam to have shown up so soon. "Did you get-"

"Yeah, I did," Sam said. "We should start looking for a replacement tech guy."

"What?" Carly blurted out, walking over to face Sam. "If any of this is true, something's really wrong with him, and all you care about is-"

"You didn't hear about his mom?" asked Sam. Carly's eyes widened for the second time that day. "Did he… no, he couldn't have…"

"He may have. They don't know." Sam stated. "I skipped my last two periods to go over to your house and hang out and Spencer was all flipping out. He found Ms. Benson lying on the floor bleeding from her head."

Carly sat back down in the beanbag chair, took a deep breath and started to tear up. "What's going on…?"

Sam wasn't sure what to say herself. Being torn between all sorts of emotions- fear, morbid curiosity and anger- wasn't something she was used to.

"Carly, we should go meet your brother at the hospital."

()()()

Freddie entered the waiting room of the hospital and walked over to a lady working behind a counter. "What room is Marissa Benson in?"

"Room 115."

"Thanks."

Ten minutes passed while Freddie made slow progress to his mother's hospital room in the sterile halls he was navigating. Every time he heard beeping or groans of pain, he slowed his pacing down a little involuntarily.

Ever since this afternoon, he had grown paranoid… he didn't feel like himself, and he wasn't acting like himself. He was frightened, his head was foggy and full of thoughts that he never once had before… all of his senses were going crazy. For the last 12 or so hours, since last night's internet live stream… it was hard to explain.

Spencer looked up from his feet to see Freddie enter the room. He smiled weakly, making no effort to conceal his deep pity for the young man. "Hey."

"…Hey. How is she?"

"She's been unconscious for a few hours, but they don't think she's in a coma. I'm real sorry about this-"

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"She slipped and hit her head on the kitchen counter, from the looks of it."

Freddie sat down next to Spencer on the bench-like surface under the large window. "When did you find her?"

"About one o' clock, one fifteen. Why?"

Freddie turned around a little bit where he sat. Spencer noted how uncomfortable the boy looked, but he brushed it off as concern for his mother. "At school today, I was involved in something pretty bad. They called my mom at one o'five, and I know that because that's when the bell for 7th period rings."

()()()

Carly and Sam took a cab and made it up to the hospital where Sam said Ms. Benson was staying. After moments waiting behind a guy getting surgery to remove a pencil from his ear, Sam spoke to the receptionist. "Do you know what room a kid named Jake is staying in?"

"Sam!" Carly whined, turning her friend around to face her. "We are here to see Ms. Benson!"

"I want to see what Freddie did to that kid. You know, just to get an idea of how bad all this is."

"Jake Malloy?" the receptionist asked. Sam nodded. "Room 140."

After finding Ms. Benson's room number, the two split up. Since Jake was the one who got attacked, if someone talked to him, maybe they could clear this up better. That was the way Sam saw it. But she was going to have a hard time pretending to buddy up to that kid.

()()()

"136… 138… here we are, 140." Sam stopped in front of the door. But before she could enter, a middle-aged couple walked out of the room with gravely angry looks on their faces. The woman stopped when she noticed Sam and tried her best fake smile. Ineffective, to say the least. "Are you here to see my son?"

"Uh… yeah." Sam wasn't sure whether to lie or not in this instance. "I heard about what happened at school today and-"

Jake's father, a short, stocky and thick man in oil-stained overalls, growled gutturally. "My son watches that iCarly shit all the time, I recognize you."

"Uh, okay-"

"You know who else I recognize? That fucking kid in your videos that attacked my boy. If I ever find that little bastard, I swear I'm going to beat him to shit."

Sam's own temper got the best of her. Despite her tumultuous association with Freddie Benson, she considered him a friend. Besides, who did this guy think he was, the cops? She got up close to the older, taller man. "Not unless you go through me first."

Jake's father snorted and walked away, leaving Sam and Jake's mother behind. Before turning to walk down the hallway leading to the cafeteria, he turned his head to look at Sam. He whispered just loudly enough for Sam to hear but quietly enough for the busy staff to not pick up. "If you dare try to get between me and that punk… I guaran-goddamn-tee you that a bullet's going to hurt you a lot more than whatever you can dish out."

He walked away before Sam could issue a witty (read: viciously pissed off) retort. His wife laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'd like to say that he's not always like that, but…" She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Sam turned around, brushing the woman's hand away. "Look, about Jake and Freddie, I-"

"I don't think you had anything to do with it, dear," the old woman smiled. Sam noticed how red her eyes were and relaxed a little bit.

"I just wanted to talk to Jake a little bit. Up until today I… didn't think Freddie had it in him to do something like this. I was just hoping your son had some answers."

The woman shook her head. "He can't really talk all that well right now… and I think he just needs to rest. You might come back tomorrow."

"Okay. I-"

Loud scuffling sounds could be heard from down the hall, followed by yells and banging sounds. Sam and Jake's mother looked at each other, shocked, before running towards the sounds.

()()()

"Get off that boy this instant!"

The Shay siblings, three nurses and a doctor were trying to pry an angry bull-like man off of Freddie. It was hard to do, and not just because the older man was eager to fight. Freddie himself had taken to clawing and kicking at the man like a mad cat. With Sam's help, they were finally pried apart.

"Let me go! He tried to kill my son!" the old man screamed, blood dripping from a wound on the left side of his face. Freddie, being restrained by Sam and Spencer, leveled his head at the man and then spit at him. The spit connected with the gentleman's face, spurning him into launching a vicious struggle against the four people restraining him.

Ultimately, and with great embarrassment on the part of Jake's mother, the man was hauled out of the hospital altogether.

Sam finally let Freddie go after the man was out of the building. "Spencer, what the hell was that about?"

"I don't know! This old crazy guy just attacked Freddie!"

"Freddie!" Spencer screamed, but Freddie had already started running down the hall after the man who just attacked him. Sam and Spencer gave chase, easily catching the much weaker boy. A hospital aide walked over to the group as they struggled with their seemingly rabid friend. "Look, you four are going to have to leave the premises. This isn't a place for you to horseplay around."

Sam stood up, pausing to make sure that Spencer had a good hold on Freddie, and turned to the nurse. "If you want to kick just Freddie out, that's fine, but all we've been trying to do is restrain the guy!"

"Fine. But if you three make even one more even slight disturbance, you're out of here."

()()()

Sam and Spencer stayed in Ms. Benson's room for another two hours, trying to make sense of all the madness. "Have you ever seen Freddie act like that? Or even try to act like that?"

Sam shook her head. "No way. I didn't think he had it in him to spit on some guy and freak out like he did. Or try to rip some kid's face off."

"I thought so too, but-"

"Spencer… did he tell you about what happened on iCarly last night?"

Spencer paused, remembering the horrible things he found on Freddie's computer… the nosebleed… "Shit, I forgot! Carly's been in the bathroom for like fifteen minutes. Could you go check on her?"

Sam stared at Spencer, looking for irony in his face, and laughed uproariously when she deduced he wasn't kidding. "Check on her in the bathroom? You're being a little over-protective, don't you think?"

"Sam, she had a very bad nosebleed last night," Spencer stated firmly. "I just want you to go in there and make sure she isn't having another one. Just say that you had to go too. We all need to be in here, anyway, because I wanted to talk to you all about Freddie's laptop."

"Yeah, I remember Carly telling us about the nosebleed… but, why did she have it?"

"I don't know. She doesn't either."

Sam got up from her seat on the other side of Ms. Benson's hospital bed. "Okay, Spence. I'll be back in a second to make sure the toilet hasn't swallowed your sister." Spencer just clenched his jaw and nodded.

()()()

Some things people were not meant to see…

This was a room that had no tiles, a room that could go on forever

but stopped so short it drove you mad, which for you was worse or better

paradise, then and there, lost, a silent scream, a creeping hope

for anyone, anywhere, anything to help you cope

when everything becomes so ugly that you start to seek your home

in a place as cold and distant as real life, your mouth will foam

your face will age beyond repair, a fruit too rotten to stay solid

thrust into witness for the fact that everything breathing is squalid

pulsing to a freight train rhythm, crying like a long lost child

because what stood so tall before has lent itself to be defiled.

Don't try to rest your aching head, don't try to speak against the wind

it slices deep as wayward glass or questions like "where have you been?"

that's just what months and years are for, the answers to that very riddle

are slabs of concrete in the end, helping you to chase the middle

to be continued