Hey :)
I know, I'm pretty bad. I've been updating nearly everyday and you don't hear from me for almost six? Well, my reason for lack of updating is this chapter. Ugh, this chapter gave me so much trouble. You'd think it would be an easy chapter to write, but I struggled with it a lot. I originally wrote it from Sam's point of view, but it I decided to wait for Sam until the last chapter, so I had to re write two pages of it. But I like this version much better and hopefully you guys do too. I know this isn't my best work, but I'm proud of it, and although it was a challenge, I feel as if I have achieved something.
I also have another note about Sam's character. I know, she seems a little out of it. A little weak as one would call it. But, I mean, the girl just tried to kill herself. I want you to imagine you just woke up in a hospital bed, after an incredibly traumatic experience. Are you going to be cracking jokes at your boyfriend's expense? But, in the next chapter, Sam will be back to her former self...or at least, a ghost of her former self.
So please enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. (Super sad face!)
Warning- The following contains dark themes.
Freddie lowers his head, crushing the tears into Sam's already damp palm. He begins to weep, and he takes shuddering breaths as he comes to the realization that despite the pleading, despite the seemingly magical words of love, despite everything, Sam will never wake up.
Brushing his fingers along Sam's pale wrist, Freddie thinks about what he could have done differently. In not only his speech, but in every aspect of their relationship. Could he have been there more often? Could he have asked about the lingering look of sadness that had seemed ever present in Sam's eyes lately? Could he have just taken one single moment out to think to himself "What's wrong with Sam?"
Freddie releases another broken sob as he realizes how selfish he has been.
As cries wrack his body, and wordless shrieks scream in his mind, he feels the soft hands of Sam's memory running across his head.
"Shhh," she whispers to him, in a dream. Freddie thinks this is strange. He has no memories of Sam ever trying to comfort him. Perhaps it's his mind trying to numb the hurt with an all too real imagination. Another stabbing pain runs through Freddie's stomach and he bites on his thumb.
"Shh," Sam's voice whispers again. Freddie shakes his head, trying to rid the dream. He doesn't want to hear Sam unless it is really her.
But yet again, the stranger's hands stroke his head, and Freddie can't wonder how deeply into insanity he has fallen.
But these ghost hands seem too realistic. Freddie would almost swear that fingers were running across his messy hair.
And he knows if he checks, it's going to hurt. Because this is just his mind playing tricks on him. Sam's hands aren't really stroking him, she isn't really comforting him. It's just a memory, a sick, sick memory. And the disappointment is going to kill him.
But he looks up anyway.
Raising his head slowly, Freddie's eyes react harshly to the light. As they come into focus, he sees the white, stiff sheets of the bed, and the cords hanging from Sam's hollow form. Running his eyes over her body, he comes to focus on her face. Of course it was just his imagination. Her pale lips stay in the same position, her cheeks are the exact same color, her sharp brown eyes still pierce him with…
Brown eyes?
Sam stares across at him, a dazed and rather drunken look in her eye. Licking her pale lips weakly, she pulls them into a stretched smile.
"Hey," Sam croaks quietly.
Hey?
Sam?
She's awake.
Freddie stares across at her, willing himself to wake up. She's alive…Sam's alive.
"Oh my god, Sam!" he cries, jumping up and grabbing her face with his hands. Freddie can still feel the tears dribbling down his face, as he pulls her closer, running his fingers across her face. She watches him, not quite awake, not quiet dead.
"Sam, oh my god, your alive. Sam…Sam," he croons pulling her forward and wraps his arms around her, crushing her into a hug. He doesn't realize he's shaking until the strong hand of someone so weak grabs his shoulder.
"Freddie," she whispers in his ear, as if the name has some new meaning. He pulls back, and cups her face in his hands again. Running his fingers through her tangled hair.
"Don't ever, ever do that to me again!" he sobs, planting his lips to her forehead, still running his hands over her face…trying to memorize the features of someone who was awake, someone who was alive.
"I'm sorry," whispers Sam, her voice ragged. He pulls back, and presses the button beside the bed.
"Nurse!" he says into the speaker, "She's awake," he stares across at her, still smiling, "she's awake."
Sam looks sleepy again, and Freddie is sure she is unable to place where is or what has happened. She feels around with her hands, almost as if she lost the sense of sight and is trying to feel her place.
Freddie rushes forward, as Sam's eyes slowly begin to close again. He grabs her, the room shaking as her head begins to loll back.
"No Sam! Sam, don't leave me again! Sam! SAM!" he yells, holding her by the shoulders now. His voice begins to fade, and with it replaces darkness.
oOo
"Well," says the nurse quietly, looking across at Freddie and she scribbles on her pad, "her vitals look good. This sort of relapse is to be expected. Samantha has been through an incredibly traumatic experience. She's not in a coma, but needs rest. The doctor isn't here until 6AM, but I see no point in calling him in if there is no problem. Samantha will be fine until morning."
The nurse nods briskly, as if dismissing herself, as she places the charts back on the rungs of Sam's bed and exits, just in time to miss Freddie's quiet whisper.
"Her name's Sam."
Freddie looks across at Sam and shakes his head.
"I had you, you know. You were back. And now you're gone all over again."
Freddie shakes his head, before resting back in the chair beside the bed and closing his eyes. He feels exhausted, the last two days crushing him under their weight. All he needs is a nap, just to rest his eyes for a second, and then he'd be right back to holding Sam's hand and pleading for her to come back.
A vague thought runs through Freddie's mind, like a pestering bug.
What if she wakes up and your not there?
Freddie shoves the thought away. He'll be there when she wakes up. Before he can promise another thing to his wavering conscious, exhaustion over takes Freddie and he tumbles into a deep slumber, plagued with nightmares.
oOo
"FREDDIE!" screams Sam, as he watches her drown in a pool of blood. Reaching out to her, Freddie grapples with the vile, red waves, trying desperately to grab Sam's flailing hands as some unknown force drags her downwards, to the unforgiving sea floor beneath.
"FREDDIE!" she shrieks again, and Freddie jolts awake, reaching forward.
"HELP!" shouts Sam, who is twisting and turning in her bed, the drips tangling her in a mess. Her eyes are squeezed into a painful look, and she reaches forward with her hands.
Freddie can't help but think, I wasn't awake.
"Sam!" he yells frantically, grabbing her shoulders. Her eyes rip open, bloodshot and red.
"Sam, your ok! Your ok!" He reassures her, as she shakes in his hands. Freddie's frightened. He's never seen Sam like this, quivering in the folds of his protective embrace.
Staring down into her eyes, he attempts to comfort her, watching as her pupils shrink and her eyes crease. A tear slips from the corner of her eyes, and strangled sob breaks out of her throat. Freddie's eyes widen in alarm as Sam throws her head back and cries, horrible, deathly sobs that echo around the room.
"Sam! Don't cry, don't cry Sam," pleads Freddie, squeezing into the bed next to her and wrapping his arms awkwardly, trying to avoid the maze of drips. She rests her head into his chest and cries.
Freddie can't believe it. He stares down at his sobbing girlfriend, astounded. Why is Sam crying? She never cries. Never. He can't understand why isn't she asking for food. Why isn't she complaining about his galaxy wars obsession? Why isn't she begging for ham?
Freddie bites his lip as he realizes a simple fact.
Nothing will ever be the same.
Sam's cry slowly begins to die out, as her shudders become the odd quiver.
"I'm sorry," she breathes, clutching his shirt with her hand. Freddie shakes his head.
"Sam, we'll talk about it when you're feeling better, okay?"
Sam nods, barely awake now. Just as Freddie thinks she's asleep, Sam looks up at Freddie.
"Don't leave, okay Fredward?" whispers Sam quietly. Freddie nods, as she nestles down again, just in time for him to catch her lingering words.
"People always leave."
oOo
When Sam wakes up again, Freddie is perching on the side of the bed, one leg on the sheets and the other dangling off the side. His eyes focus on the television, watching the morning news play out on television.
The sounds not on.
Light breaks through the blinds on the window, and Freddie blinks at the morning sun. It must be the first ray of hope he's seen in days.
Sam makes a little snuffling noise beside him, and peels open her eyes. This small action is accompanied by a groan. Freddie runs his fingers over her forehead. Sam moans again, and rubs her stomach with a weak hand.
"I'm so hungry," she groans, and Freddie lets out a rough laugh. The sound seems almost alien. Unfamiliar in the world of troubles he's found himself in.
"Trust you to be hungry when you're in dire consequences."
Sam smirks, before looking across at him and smiling. She reaches out and grabs his hand. A small frown line appears between her eyebrows and she bites her lip.
"I'm sorry…about the nightmares. About last night. About everything."
Freddie shrugged, but a sharp pain glided up and down his neck.
"We shouldn't talk about it now. Your too tired."
"I have to talk about it now. Otherwise…I'll never be able to."
Freddie sighs and pushes the button on the remote. He's not even sure if he's ready for this conversation either.
Shuffling over, he sits so that he is right beside Sam. She still holds his hand, but stares down at the faint lines on his, running her fingers over the creases.
"My mom left six months ago," whispers Sam quietly, still focusing intently on Freddie's hand. There is a moment of silence as she lets the words sink in, but Freddie's only reaction is a slight cough.
"I was completely alone. I didn't want to ask for your help, or Carly's, or Spencer's, or Gibby's, because…it's a…"
She seems unsure of how to finish the sentence, still staring at the sheets.
"A pride thing?" prompts Freddie. Sam nods slowly, absorbing the words.
"Yeah. And, I tried to find money. I tried desperately. But it was never enough. Nothing was ever enough. And one day, after our fight, it just became…all too much. I just couldn't bear it anymore."
"It wasn't depression. I don't feel empty. I've never felt empty. I feel crammed with emotions. Of abandonment. Of love. Of fear…of everything. And I was so angry with my mom for leaving. All she did was left a note, saying she was gone and not to look for her. And me being my stupid old self, I didn't even try to find her. I was convinced I could look after myself. But I can't."
"And, everything, it just became a crushing weight I couldn't free myself from. I needed to punish myself, because it was my fault my mom left. My fault I couldn't pay the bills or look after my schoolwork, as well as hold down a job. My fault that everything was falling apart around me. And so, I decided that it was the end. It was my time to die."
Sam glances up at Freddie, more tears running down her face.
"And I'm so, so sorry. I should have told you. I should have told Carly. You would have put out the fire. But, I couldn't. And I'm so selfish. I'm a bitch. But, I hope you know, this didn't fix anything. Watching the blood dribbling down my wrists wasn't like watching the emotions slip out of me. Because they were still there, but if anything…they burned brighter."
Freddie runs a hand through his hair, fighting off the tears himself. Why was everything falling apart around him?
Freddie pulled Sam close, and put his cheeks against her hair. There were no uncontrollable sobs anymore. No shrieks of sadness. Just slow tears, leaking down pale cheeks.
"Damn right you should have told me Sam. It was unbelievably selfish of you to do that to me. And I know you felt alone…and that was our fault. We should have asked, we should have cared."
Sam nods, delving her head deeper into Freddie's chest.
"But everything is going to be okay. We're going to help you through this. We're not going to leave, and you never have to be that person again."
He nods, reassuring himself.
"We're going to be okay."
Did anybody pick up my One Tree Hill reference? I love OTH!
Thanks for all the support guys. The epilogue will be up as soon as it's written.
-ArtsyAmyStars