To "blablobb": Let me clear a few things up for you. If this story was 'complete' then the status would be changed to 'complete.' Since it has not been, you can assume I am still writing. Also, if you are going to criticize me, please leave reasons as to WHY, and also make an attempt at grammar so I can take you seriously. Yes, the last chapter was not 'action-packed' but as I'm sure you've also seen, this is not an action story. The last chapter was mainly to focus on the psychological aspects of Sam's denial, which most other people understood. I didn't know I'd have to spell that out for anybody. If you want action from here on out, this is the wrong story for you, seeing as the genres are 'Romance/Drama.'

To Cassie: Thanks so much for reviewing! Here it is :)

In other news, AHHHH! If you've seen the episode list, then you know what I'm 'AHHH!'ing about. This weekend...I don't think I want to see it....

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

"Here you go. You wanted chocolate milk, right?" Wendy asked her boyfriend.

"Yeah. Thanks. Listen, about last night..."

She smiled. "Don't worry about it. As long as Sam's okay. She looks a lot better today--almost like she should be at school again."

Freddie chuckled and shook his head. "She's so stubborn. Whatever. They've got teachers looking out for her everywhere, though, so maybe today won't be as bad as last time. Here they come now."

Carly greeted Freddie and Wendy happily. Sam just grunted and plopped down.

"What's up, you guys?" questioned Wendy.

"Not much. Right Sam?" The blonde refused to answer. "Um...it hurts her to talk."

"Oh. Sorry."

Freddie changed the topic fast. "I gotta go. Emergency AV club meeting. But, um, you're not mad, right?"

"Of course not."

He got up and pinched her cheek. "Sweet girl."

Wendy grinned. "Don't mock me, Benson."

She tried to kiss him, but he was already gone.

"You guys are so cute," Carly gushed, ignoring that last point. Wendy blushed and said nothing.

Sam felt like throwing up.

Her mother came to pick Sam up from school, which didn't help her queasiness. Ms. Puckett was more than a little out of it--all the time. Sam wasn't even sure if her mom knew how close her daughter had been to death.

And she wasn't talking about the car ride to Skybucks the day before.

Heavy metal rocked the old car, adding to Sam's growing headache. Her mother was singing--or rather, yelling--along. It was pointless to interrupt and request a lower volume.

"Can we get out of the parking lot now?"

Freddie and Wendy were approaching on the right.

"I hate my parents I hate my life but one thing I really hate is this knife--!"

"Interesting. Do you know how great of a role model you are for me?"

Her mother didn't even hear.

Sam wondered if she'd have to take over the steering wheel, but finally, the car started moving. Sam rested her forehead on the window and watched Freddie kiss Wendy goodbye, watched her wave to Mrs. Benson, watched the neurotic old lady gush over Freddie's perfect girlfriend. It was all so irritating--no, worse than that. Upsetting, even. The one thing she really hated, other than her parent and her life, as her mother had so eloquently put it.

Ms. Puckett swerved to avoid an innocent little girl crossing the street. Sam clutched at anything and everything, but she still felt like she was breaking in half when her mom braked before hitting the curb.

"Stop! You're hurting me!"

"Stop screaming, no one's going to help you!" He was always there when she was hurting the most. Always. "You're nothing...to anyone!" She tasted blood. Or she remembered tasting blood. Either way, she knew she was dying. Right there. Again.

"Sammy?"

Everything was blurred. The door was unlocked--or had she unlocked it? It didn't matter, she needed to get out. Open air. She wouldn't be trapped. Someone could help her. Sam rolled out of the car and landed on grass. Every breath brought her closer to unconsciousness. She couldn't keep this up. No matter how far she ran, he'd always catch up with her.

"Sam! Sam, are you okay? Talk to me!" Warm arms, trying to hug her. Warm, but so, so gentle.

She gasped--whether it was from lack of oxygen or an unbelievable amount of pain, she didn't know. "Freddie..."

"Lie down. Don't move. Wendy called nine-one-one, they'll be here any minute, okay?"

"No..."

"Sam, Sam, keep talking to me. It's going to be okay. Don't close your eyes!"

"Why do you look like him...?"

She had to keep her eyes closed. It was Freddie's voice, but his face. If she couldn't see him, she could pretend he wasn't there...

"Mom, she's hallucinating--"

"She's in pain, Fredward, there's nothing we can do. Where did her mother go?"

"I don't know, she drove off or something--"

"Freddie, is she okay?" Wendy. Even through the agony, Sam wanted to growl. Finally, she could control the movement in her arms--enough to swat the hovering onlookers away.

"I'm fine."

She could see them now. There was Mrs. Benson, with an ice pack in her hand. Then Wendy, standing around, looking all worried. And Freddie, with his jaw dropped. It was over. At least at this point, she was sane.

Some people begged to differ on that point.

"Are you kidding? You're nowhere near fine, stop! Stop trying to sit up, just stay there. Lie down!" Freddie ordered. Sam glared at him.

"Don't tell me what to do, Benson. Sorry, there are two of you here--Miss Benson."

"This is no time for jokes! You're going crazy, Sam--you were practically screaming!"

"Oh, shut up. Nothing happened. You're just exaggerating." Sam stood up. Was it really him she'd opened her self up to the other day? Why? He didn't--couldn't--understand. She wouldn't let the pain show. Never, ever, ever; no matter how bad it was. Freddie reached out to help her, but she stepped back--and collapsed.

Idiot! All she had to do was ignore it! Tears sprung to her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "Way to knock me over, jerk!"

"I didn't even touch you! Can you stop being so obstinate? Just wait until the stupid ambulance gets here!"

"Who says 'obstinate' anymore? I don't even know what that means!"

"Fredward! We do not use the 'S' word around young women! Including Sam, in some cases!"

Freddie paid her no attention. "You're going to kill yourself trying to act tough! Will you just let someone help you?"

Sam poked him in the chest, hard. "It's not an act, you nub."

He was furious. She almost enjoyed it. He was trying so hard to calm down, but she knew he was going to do something totally stupid, like he always did when he was angry. "That's it. I'm done."

Right on cue. It didn't even make any sense. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm done trying to be nice. If you want to act like it's no big deal, fine. You want to become some psychotic freak--probably just like the guy who hurt you--have fun with it. You're not doing yourself any favors. If you ever learn to ask for help, I'll be waiting. But until then, good luck." His voice was deadly calm. Sam considered being nervous, but laughed at the thought. Freddie couldn't do anything to cause her any sort of harm.

Freddie turned around and started walking away.

"Samantha, do you want me to give--" Mrs. Benson began.

"Leave her," her son growled.

"She's hurt--"

"I said, leave her!"

"For once, he's got it right," Sam replied bitingly. "I don't need any of you guys."

Wendy had this sickening expression of pity on her face. Sam wished she could smack her into kingdom come. No one looked at her like that. Ever. Unless they wanted to find various limbs of theirs in China.

Reluctantly, the two girls followed Freddie back into the parking lot. Sam sighed in relief. Peace and quiet and a short walk home...every journey started with a single step.

She winced. That single step wasn't fun.

I'll just rest a little. And then I can--

Are you kidding? You don't need rests. You're perfectly fine.

It didn't matter that tears were streaming down her face. It didn't matter that she couldn't breathe anymore. What mattered was that everyone could see she was just as strong as she'd been before. And as she limped across the street, that was exactly what she convinced herself they saw.

Sam was going to walk through that alley again. Even she knew it was a stupid idea. But as she got closer and closer to it, her resolve got stronger.

If she could beat him, she'd won. If he beat her--really beat her this time, then she deserved to lose. She deserved anything he'd do. She was prepared to die for her title.

"Where are you?!" she yelled at the entrance. Her voice echoed off the walls, but no one answered. Sam stepped in. "Quit playing hide-and-seek. I'm back, and I'm going to finish you off this time. You're not getting lucky again!" Nothing moved. "Get out here!"

She punched the wall for good measure, but the action didn't yield the same results as before. He wasn't coming. He wasn't there. Who knew where the stupid hobo had gone--she'd probably never see him again. She'd never be able to settle the score. How would she live with herself now?

"Hey! You! Get outta here!" called a gruff voice. Probably the owner of one of the shops. "This place ain't safe fer girls. Last week we had a dead one in this same alley."

Sam flexed her hand experimentally. It didn't hurt too badly. "She isn't dead."

That was a lie, Sam realized. She was dead. The Sam everyone knew was gone. This weakling had been left in her place—a weakling in mind and body. A weakling no one could respect or fear. She was ashamed to call herself Sam Puckett.

"Dead or not, you'd better go home. This ain't safe for ya," he repeated.

"Yeah. I guess it's not…" It was safe for Sam Puckett. Whoever this girl was—nowhere was safe for her. Not even her own head.

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