Sorry about the short and long-awaited chapter...

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

"Mom, I'm not going to school today," Sam announced in the morning. She was taking a much needed break. This was her one journey to the kitchen and the bathroom for the next four hours...four hours that would be spent resting blissfully.

Sam decided it was time to put her life in perspective. And then possibly figure out how to get her mom to move halfway across the country.

The truth was, she had nothing now. Her relationship with Freddie was a mess. Carly hadn't called for the past twenty-four hours--she'd had it, too. It was obvious she wasn't fooling anybody with her tough act. And she was sick of causing herself pain if it wasn't even worth it. Staying home was the second best thing to going back to the hospital--baby steps.

Wendy called her around noon, apparently skipping her lunch period. "Sam, where are you?"

"Disneyland."

"Seriously. Carly and Freddie flipped out when they couldn't find you!"

"Like they were looking for me."

"What's your problem, Sam?! Why do you keep pushing everyone away?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up. She'd never heard Wendy lose her temper. "You're stressing me out. I need to relax. Buh-bye."

"Sam...!"

Click.

Sam stared at her ceiling. She wasn't pushing anyone away. They pushed themselves away. Freddie was the one who went all 'I'm done with you' and Carly had been setting herself up to be beaten up. Especially when she was her best friend and was supposed to know when Sam wanted to be left alone.

Don't kid yourself. No one was possessing you when you hit Carly, and you pretty much drove Freddie to the edge. Wendy's right...this IS your fault.

So what did that make her? Just like the guy in the alley? All she lived for was to hurt people. But even if that wasn't working out, she was not about to become Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.

Darn. She'd forgotten to turn on the TV.

"What did she say? Is she okay?" asked Carly worriedly.

"She was being sarcastic--I'm guessing she's fine."

Freddie was silent. This was going downhill, fast. Sam sure as heck wasn't going to fix it, but he didn't see how he could help either. Sam didn't care if she got expelled; she could skip school indefinitely. And she would never have to go back. She'd be one of those hobo high school dropouts for the rest of her life...going crazy...killing people in between buildings...

Whoa. It's not that bad yet.

The bell rang, and Freddie rushed out without saying goodbye. The school day had been a blur anyways; he wasn't sure he'd even spoken with anyone. His mom was right on time, as always."How was school?"

"Fine."

"Did you pass that Biology test?"

"Yep."

"You're very quiet today. Did something go wrong?"

"Nope."

"You know how worried I get when you give me one word answers, Fredward. Do you have laryngitis?"

"No, mother."

"That's better."

She chattered on until they reached the apartment. Freddie pretended to pay attention, semi-realizing that he hadn't done an essay that was due the next day. He was too tired to pull an all-nighter...

"Fredward, I forgot your medicine in the car. I'll be right back, go ahead and wait in the apartment. Make sure you don't trip on the stairs!" his mom reminded as they entered the lobby. Lewbert screamed at them for unnecessary noise, but Freddie ignored him (and his mother), taking the elevator up to the eighth floor.

On opening the apartment door, he had a near heart attack when he realized someone was already sitting on his couch.

"Sam?! What're you doing here?"

"Eating this stupid organic food. Has your mom ever heard of calories?"

He dropped his bag and slowly approached. "Um...how'd you--"

"Picked the lock."

"Duh. Okay. Well, why are you--"

"Are you interrogating me or are you going to get me something that'll actually fill me up?"

He plopped down next to her. "Let's go with interrogation for now."

Sam sighed. "I wanted to talk."

Freddie's eyebrows shot up. Finally, something was working out.

But she fell silent after that. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. This was nice...almost like things were normal, in a very abnormal way. Like they should be. Not how they--

"Freddie?" a voice whispered.

Was someone seriously trying to bother him when he was this relaxed for the first time in ages?

"Freddie...?"

"Go away..." Sam dissolved into nothingness beside him. "No! Not you!"

"Freddie, wake up!" The whispering was getting more and more frantic. "Mr. Howard's coming--will you at least pretend you're paying attention?"

He wasn't on his couch at home, he was drooling over a desk in math class. Shoot.

"Where's Sam?"

Carly gave him a pained look. "At home, remember?"

"You sure?"

"You okay?"

"Just answer..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Where did you think she was?"

He didn't reply.

"Can you drop me off at Sam's, mom?"

He'd pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming this time.

"Why? Has that injury finally calmed the girl down?"

"Please?"

"Fine...but make it quick."

"It'll take five minutes, max."

"I suppose. Although, I don't like the idea of you in that girl's house. Do they ever clean? Do they drink fat free milk? How fast is her mother's 9-1-1 dialing reaction time? Every second counts, Fredward, you know I always tell you--"

"I know, mom."

"--Because it only takes a moment for a dog to carve a chunk out of your leg--"

"They don't have dogs, mom, just one--cat." He caught himself before saying 'rabid.'

"Well, we're here. Be careful!"

The front door was unlocked, of course, as Sam welcomed any intruder that dared attempt to steal from her 'valuables.' At least, she used to, when she had the strength to take them down. Now it was just one more thing she had to realize she couldn't do anymore.

"Sam?"

The whole house was eerily quiet. Freddie remembered her room being a little ways into the building. He never used to come here often--Sam on her home turf? No thank you. He picked through the random newspapers and half-empty Chinese take out cartons on the floor, softly calling for the blonde whenever he could. Was she even here? Where else would she go?

Freddie peeked into her room, surprised when he saw her sleeping soundly. Searching for a pen and paper and settling for a napkin and Magic Marker, he scribbled, Call me when you can. --F

He turned to put it on her nightstand, and shrieked like a little girl.

Sam laughed. "Dork."

"You're awake?"

"Duh."

"You creeper, watching me when I wasn't looking--"

"Don't flatter yourself. I just didn't want to talk to you. Really manly scream, by the way."

"Really manly arm hair, by the way."

"Shut up. What're you doing, sneaking in my house? Who's the creeper here again?"

"The door was open. And...I wanted to check on you," he answered nervously.

"How many times do I have to tell you people? I. Don't. Need. A. Nanny."

"I'm not a freaking nanny, Sam, I'm your friend!"

"Sure you are. Because friends tell other people they'd much rather've been anywhere else when I decided to tell you what everyone's been trying to get out of me--and I was trusting you, you stupid nub."

Freddie blinked. He'd forgotten about that. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just--Wendy--"

"Just leave."

Apparently the banter was over. She wasn't kidding around when it came to girlfriends.

Ex-girlfriends. Whoops.

Freddie sat down next to her, ignoring the very black mood that had descended. "Why weren't you at school today?"

"Because I hate you."

"How long have you been in bed for? The whole day?" While she tried to reply in as insulting a fashion as she could, he continued, "How about this. I'll stay for a while and whatever you need, I'm here. Okay? I owe you that much."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You sure about this, Fredward?"

"Yeah, why not?" He dialed up his mom.

"I don't think you--" Sam started.

"Hello?"

"Hey, mom. I might be a little longer. Like an hour or two. You should go home."

"But--dangerous--"

"Bye, Mom!"

Sam grinned maliciously. "Like I was saying. I don't think you remember taking care of Lewbert...you know, I can be a lot worse."

Freddie gulped.

"Oh...well, um--I don't--"

Sam fought the urge to laugh at the poor boy. Torturing him was what she did best. She should've let it all out right then--she really should have. Not laughing hurt a lot more than--

Freddie heard a crack, but he thought it was just the old, rundown house. He had no idea anything was wrong until Sam's eyes bulged out of her head.

"Can't--breathe--" And she started coughing up blood.

Freddie told the paramedics everything he could, but he wasn't sure if he'd been talking about Sam's injury or his fifth grade birthday party. All he could think was she's deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead...

They stopped questioning him. He sank into a state of semi-unconsciousness, trying not the see the dark red splashes that stained everything, trying not to hear the groans and heaves and screams as Sam fell apart...for good.

"The kid said she walked home from school. Did they tell her she had broken ribs or a paper cut?!"

"I don't know, Bob...this one's a goner. Wake that kid up, we're gonna need him to move out of the way fast when we get to Mercy."

Goner? Vaguely, Freddie registered that 'goner' may not be a good thing.

"Will she be okay?" he tried to ask. It might have come out as something mangled and whispered, but they got the idea and refused to answer him.