SAMANTHA GROVES POV

A growing pit of worry forms in her as she looks at the time on her wristwatch, stating that it's 7:33. Looking back up to search for the brunette. Why is Han so late? Sam is the one that is usually late for school and never Han. Sam ignores all the stares that everyone is giving her for standing here alone. Did something happen yesterday when she entered that car? Why did she even get into that car in the first place? And was that Mr. Russell's car? Sam didn't get a proper look at who was driving it, but it was familiar. Hanna has been doing more stuff on her own since lately, but she always told her what she's doing. What did she want with that man? She did smile at her like everything was okay.

Surely nothing bad could happen to Han. She's way too paranoid to catch her off guard. Even if something bad had happened, Han knows how to defend herself and she always has a knife on her. The blaring sound of the first bell knocked her out of her stupor. Yeah, nothing wrong could happen to her friend. She's sure Han would turn up later in school, probably during lunch.

She must get to math class soon before she gets into unwanted trouble; Sam does have to play the perfect student with Han so they can graduate early. It irks her that she has to walk in school alone without Han to her right. Despite having a general contempt for humans, Han plays the social butterfly perfectly and would be the center of attention whenever they walk together. Now everyone is just looking at her with their wretched, judging eyes. She's so going to annoy the taller girl for ditching her this morning.

She made her way to her usual corner desk at the back of math class and did not bother to greet any of her classmates. It's not like they were even her friends. All of them had preconceptions of her before they even meet her. With the second bell rung, Mr. Anderson starts the class talking about Quadratic Functions. This is such a child's play lesson; she learned this years ago and Han learned this when she's four. The thought of her friend instantly brought back the pit of worry. Something is just not right. She can just feel that something isn't right, but worrying about something she can't control is useless. She better distract herself with something useful, maybe writing code in long hand to increase the speed of Pointer's queries? Yeah, that sounds good, and Mr. Anderson knows better than to call on her for questions.

The ringing of the bell brought her out from her writing her code. She just continues to sit as everyone stands up to go to their next class. Coding long hand barely distracts her from all the negative intrusive thoughts about her friend. Is this what Han has been feeling for the past two years? She never did fully understand what her friend was going through. Sam better get going to the next class.

She ignores whatever Mrs. Mathers is teaching for English class and preferring to distract herself with coding SQL on paper. She barely acknowledged the teacher when she was called upon to do whatever menial task or question. She's probably going to get into trouble for that, but she couldn't be bothered with it right now. Her heart is beating faster, as time slowly ticks towards lunch time.

Something odd is happening as she sits in the beginning of biology class. There were rowdy noises coming from outside of the classroom which she couldn't see anything because of her sitting position. Sounds like someone is protesting, but it's being drowned out by the thunderous sound of footsteps. Is someone being dragged away? Looking up to Ms. Torres, who seemed curious about what's happening. However, she isn't one to stop class to sate her curiosity and continue on with her lesson about something boring. Sam isn't paying attention by this point as she's more focus on her distraction.

A teacher barges in halfway through biology class and catching her attention from her distraction. Oh, it's not a teacher, it's the assistant principal that is making a beeline towards a surprised Ms. Torres. What in the world would he come to class for? Mr. Mrazek has a pinched expression as he grabbed Ms. Torres facing their backs towards the class, concealing whatever they were discussing. She couldn't take her sight off from the two adults as she feels like her heart was in her throat. Why aren't they talking so long? The tension is killing her, so just say what's happening. A loud gasp escaped from Ms. Torres as she moved her hand to cover her mouth. It looks like Mr. Mrazek finished whatever information he needed to convey and glanced at Sam before leaving the class.

'Why did he look at me?'

Sam tried to swallow her spit, but it feels like she's swallowing sandpaper. Ms. Torres turned around to look at her first than at the rest of the class, with eyes on the verge of tears. What would have torn her up, and why do they keep looking at her? A tickle formed at the back of her head as she look on to the scene. Ms. Torres took a moment to gather herself. "Class, I have an announcement to make…" the teacher said with a wavering voice and swallowed before continuing. "Hanna Frey, a fellow student that you all may know, was last seen in the library last night and did not reach her home…"

What…

What did she just say?

The library?

The car…

That man…

No…

Sam tries to listen to what Ms. Torres is saying, but it's like she's not registering anything. She looks at the teacher's mouth to see if it's moving and, to her surprise, it is moving, but she can't hear anything other than the deafening sound of her heart. The tickle at the back of her head stopped being a tickle and was tapping now. Everything feels numb and she couldn't even feel her hands. As she looks towards the adult, her vision in the peripheral part of her vision dims.

The teacher seemed to have finished whatever she's talking about and looked directly at Sam. The look of pity on Ms. Torres' face drove her over the edge. No, she refuses to believe this. Han isn't gone. She must be in their clubhouse after yesterday's stunt and didn't tell her parents. Yeah, she must be in the clubhouse and must have overslept. It feels like there's acid in her mouth as she bolted up from her seat, which caused the teacher to be shocked, and Sam dashed out of the classroom faster than she could imagine leaving behind her backpack. She quickly pass someone who seemed to yell something at her, but she did not register any of the words as she could only hear her heart racing. The closer she is towards the exit, the less aware she's becoming of her surroundings. She charged through the doors, pushing it open, not caring that it stung.

As she got on her bike, she saw an adult exiting the school yelling something to her as he made his way towards. This idiot will not stop her from getting to her friend. She starts pedaling the bike as fast as her legs can do, leaving behind the adult and the school. Her mind is totally blank as she made her way the short distance towards their clubhouse, unable to think coherently, almost like her brain is overloading.

She reached the clubhouse, not bothering to enter from the trap house. Unable to enter the front door because Han being paranoid and bolted the door shut. She dumps her bike by the wooden fence. She then easily jumped over the fence to get access to the back door. The tapping on the back of her head becomes a constant pressure as she fumbles, trying to find the keys for the back kitchen door. Why can't she stop her hands from trembling?

It felt like a triumph as she unlocks the door. She quickly entered the house, not bothering to take off her shoes. "Han! I know you're there!" Screeched Sam. She didn't mean to sound so desperate, and she hopes Han wasn't too spooked by it. With haste, she pass through the kitchen and dining room towards their closed bedroom. She didn't bother opening the door gently, causing a loud bang as it hit the wall. Her heart dropped as she saw the bed. It was neat as per usual after using it, with too many pillows for two people to use and Han's fluffy bright pink plushies, but most importantly, the bed was empty. She thoughtlessly made her way towards the bed to touch it, as if not believing that it's empty. Her hand met the cold bed sheets, practically screaming at her that no one has used it since the last time they slept on it.

No, Han must have slept in their library. Sam quickly turn around and sprint to the library. Opening it like she did with the bedroom, but to her growing dismay, the room was empty as well. The lounging chair that Han loves to use doesn't look like it was used recently. Her body is trembling right now and there's nothing she can do to stop it.

Oh, she forgot to check the living room. In her haste, she didn't pay attention to that area. Han loves to sleep on that plush couch. Unconsciously, she walked slowly made her way to their living room/computer lab. Her breathing becomes uneven as she saw the empty couch and living room. The floor doesn't seem stable all of a sudden as she stands there, unable to process what is going on. She doesn't know how long she just stands there staring into nothing because when she came to; she was no longer standing but is on the floor. How did she even get on the floor? Did she black out or something? This is the first time this has happened to her, but it's not the first time she has seen something like this. Mom tends to black out whenever she's not well, and Han would constantly black out last year. Looking down on herself, she just see her body continue to shudder.

Wait, she haven't checked the bathroom or the electronic lab or even the garage. She didn't feel like she has the energy to stand up, but she force herself to do it. Feeling like Sisyphus, she slowly moved to check all the rooms, only getting the same result. The house is empty with the only lifeform being Sam and again she doesn't know how long just stared at the into the filled garage, drowning in despair before she slapped herself and continue to slap herself. 'Cut it out! Cut it out! Get a fucking hold on yourself. Figure out what happened and find Han.'

Her face still stings as she just stands by the door and thinking about what to do next. The car! What was the fucking car plate number? It's 9 5 something. She remembers seeing the back of the car and the plate in full, but she couldn't fucking remember anything right now. This house is giving her some wicked brain fog. Maybe going to the library might jog her memory. What if that person is there? If Ha… If Han couldn't protect herself from that person, how could she? Looking on the other side of the garage, across from their car, she sees Han's gun collection.

With renewed vigor, she went and grab the Han's favorite modified suppressed Ruger Standard with it's holster. She felt the weight of the gun that her friend lovingly cares for in her hands and holster it at the back of her jeans. Carefully, she made it so no one would notice the pistol. Looking back at the wall of guns, thinking if she needs anything else. There's the Colt AR-15, the Ruger Mini 14, both heavily modified some of which are illicit, and numerous scoped bolt action rifles. These are too big for her to lug around, especially in the library. Looking back at the tabletop, she spots the suppressed Glock 17 with a janky foregrip that Han recently 'experimented' with, saying that she basically made it into a submachine gun. This is perfect for her situation. Grabbing it and a few of the magazine she stuffs it into a backpack that's beside the table.

Looking at the tall fence that she jumped over earlier, the only thing she can think of is how the hell did she even jumped it. She should just get the other bike at the trap house, but someone might see the abandoned bike and investigate it. She can't have people snooping around this house. With great strain, she jumps the fence that's almost twice her height.

Glancing down at her wristwatch to see the time for the first time since she was in school as she arrives at the library, and it's almost 2 PM. Wait, biology started at 1030. How did 3 hours pass without her even noticing it? Did she lose consciousness that long? Maybe mom knows something about it. Best if she asked mom when she's coherent. The more she thinks about it, the more the pressure at the back of her mind seem grow stronger.

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. She should focus on the thing at hand. Checking that the pistol was still hidden at the back of her jeans, she made her way into the library, not bothering that she isn't supposed to be here right now. Ms. Tomkins is surprisingly not at the counter, as she usually was. She's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth at the absence of the librarian from bothering her. Glancing around the library, she did not spot the man she suspect of taking Han. Feeling safe; she went to the window. Standing at the spot she last seen Han made her feel a torrent of emotions and involuntarily tremble. She closes her eyes and takes deep breaths, the one that Han taught her so long ago, to calm her emotions.

Regaining her composure, she opens her eyes to look at that wretched piece of asphalt as she recalls yesterday's event. It's like watching a tape recording of what happened last night. Taking up Han's challenged to beat her score, she sat down and play that god damn game. Knowing the ins and outs of the game from all the times she played it in the past year. She speeds through the game with much ease and beats Han's score by 150 points. The feeling of achievement felt made her feel like puking now because she choose to play a fucking game over walking back with Han. 'Don't get distracted and get back.' Despite winning the game, she felt a sense of unease like something wasn't right, so she stands up to look out the window. She saw Han by the sidewalk, bending to talk to someone in a familiar dark car with those silly pop-up lights. Remembering the confusion as she looked at the scene as Han didn't move when the car door opens. The driver must have opened the passenger door, causing the car light to turn on and illuminating the driver. She saw a man, a balding man in a suit. Trent Russell is the only person she can think of that fits that description. Han then stood up straight and looked back as if she's thinking about something. Then Han saw Sam. The brunette gave her that loving smile, like there was nothing wrong. Her throat feels like it's constricting from that memory. Will she ever see that smile again? The brunette then turned around to get into the car. She feels like screaming as she recalls the car driving away with her friend. Then it hit her the license plate number. She saw the plate number being illuminated, and it was 925 EFK.

It was Trent Russell, and his car license plate was 925 EFK. There's a storm brewing in her and she has to tell someone. She jumped out of her skin when she felt someone touched her shoulder, causing her to turn around to see who disturbed her as her hand travel to her back holster. "Samantha?" Said Ms. Tomkins. Oh, it's just the librarian. Her hand went limp at the sight. She isn't a threat; she could even help her!

"I've been calling you for a while now. Did you not hear me and what are you doing here, dear? Aren't you supposed to be in school?" The librarian said worryingly. It was neglectful of her to not be aware of her surrounding especially with a dangerous person on the loose. "Miss Tomkins, it's about Hanna…" said Sam, but the adult cut her mid-sentence. "Oh dear! You're very close to that sweet girl, aren't you?" Of course, she was close to Han. How can she not see that Han and Sam spent every moment in this library together? Why is this person saying such unimportant stuff?

"Yes, we're friends…."

"Such an awful thing. Sheriff Landry called me in the middle of the night, saying that Hanna never made it home."

What? Why would the sheriff call this lady and not Sam? This woman barely knows Han. Whatever, if she just wants to cut her with more useless chatter, she better be direct.

"I think I saw Hanna get into Mr. Russell's car yesterday." Sam said as fast as she coherently can, not wanting to be cut off again. Ms. Tomkins was taken aback by what Sam said, but slowly her face started to form a furious frown. The librarian grabs Sam by the wrist tightly and dragged her by the wrist to the rows of bookshelves. She went rigid by the touch. The last time someone did something similar like this to her was before she met Han. What did she say that cause such a reaction?

"LISTEN HERE, YOU NASTY ATTENTION SEEKING BRAT…"

The tone of the voice caused her to freeze. Something she used to do in the past before meeting Han. She clenches her fist.

What? What is going on?

"I COULDN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD THINK…"

Why? 'Why don't you believe me?' She couldn't say anything, like her jaw was frozen shut. This is like the past all over again. Her breathing became shallow as this continues. It feels like Sam is having a kernel panic.

"SUCH A TERRIBLE THING ABOUT SOMEBODY LIKE MISTER RUSSELL…"

The pressure at the back of her head was becoming unbearable, as she slowly turned to ice as the stream of words coming out of the woman and pelting Sam like balls of hale. Is there something wrong with this person's code?

"WHO'D DONE SO MUCH FOR THIS TOWN…"

She's unable to look away from the woman, as her hands become limp at her sides. Why is this happening? It's like this person's code is corrupt.

"AND THE LIBRARY AND ALL THE CHILDREN…"

Why is she so pathetic that she can't move when someone is shouting at her? This isn't her mom shouting incoherently. This isn't the playground where parents would scold her for 'lying' when she was 5.

"SO, YOU BETTER KEEP YOU LYING LITTLE MOUTH SHUT AND GET OUT!" The harpy ended and pointing her finger towards the exit.

She just continue to stare at the librarian, unable to move and still processing what just happened. The harpy must have had enough of Sam's incessant staring as it grabs her wrist and dragged her again, but this time towards the exit.

With a loud bang, it shut the door to the library behind Sam, who still couldn't believe what had just happened. Her mind races to reboot itself and the only thing she can think of is that person is just bad code. Still shell-shocked, she trudged to her bike and tries to think of what to do next. Then it struck her. She can tell Mr. Frey! She's sure he would believe her. He must be at Han's house despite it being a working day.

Making the short ride to Han's house, she saw the Frey's cars parked in front. She discard her bike near to the front door and wildly knocked at the door. Mr. Frey opened almost instantly it with hopeful eyes and he said. "Sheriff did…" He stopped and looked down with a disappointed frown. "Oh, it's you Sam. Come on in. I'm sure you've heard the news." Said Mr. Frey lifelessly as he went back into the house. She has never seen the lively Mr. Frey looked so dead. Sam timidly followed him into the house, not knowing what to say at this moment. From Han, she learned how to easily lie to anyone, but why does it feel so hard to reveal the truth?

Sam was at the threshold of the living room when she spots Mrs. Frey sitting at the couch with puffed up eyes with a handkerchief in hand covering her mouth and nose. She really doesn't know what to say when everyone is in such a state. Mr. Frey didn't bother to sit by his wife, preferring to pace around the living room where so much wonderful memories she and this family were created. Mrs. Frey must have seen her, because she quickly stood up and marched right at Sam to give her a hug. Sam went stiff from the human contact. It's not like she never gotten a hug before, just that Han and her mom were the only ones to have given it before. She doesn't know if this is for her benefit or for Mrs. Frey and is causing her to be very uncomfortable.

"You must be worried sick about what happened, Sam." said Mrs. Frey as she broke the embrace but still continue with the physical contact by holding her hands. 'Please let me go. It's making me feel uneasy.' "But don't you worry, we know who took Hanna, and the police are interrogating him right now to find out where she is." Mrs. Frey said, trying to sound hopeful.

Did they arrest Trent Russell already? For the first time in hours, she feels hopeful and the pressure at the back of her head recedes slowly. However, Han always said to verify a claim and so she asked, "Do we know who took her?"

"Of course we do! It's that boy Greyson! That stalking son of a bitch, he better tell the police where my little girl is or so helps me God." roared Mr. Frey as he paced in the living room like a caged lion.

Greyson? The pressure at the back of her head came back stronger than before. Cody Fucking Greyson? This is who they thought was capable of taking Han? That blasted mangy mutt couldn't touch a single strand of Han's hair without him fucking dying by Han's hands or her hands. She has to tell them the truth.

She was just about to open her mouth when Mrs. Frey, with a look of compassion, say. "Like I said, don't worry Sam. They arrested that boy earlier this morning and have been interrogating him ever since. Do you want some hot chocolate, dear?" Sam shook her head in disbelieve and continue to stare at Han's parents. These people are dead set on that mutt, being the perpetrator. Would they even believe what she had to say? She couldn't say anything as her throat feels like it's full of sand.

The house bell rang as she just stood motionless, paralyzed by doubt and instinct from a time she thought she had shed. Mr. Frey stomped with great haste past her to open the door. Mrs. Frey didn't move towards the door, choosing to stand in front of Sam and holding her hand, but was looking towards the doorway. 'Please let go of your hand.' "Sheriff Landry! Please come in." Urged Mr. Frey letting the interloper in. She can hear heavy footsteps coming towards the living from behind her, but she still stands motionless. "Hello Judd, do you have any news?" Asked Mrs. Frey, sounding hopeful. Judd? Since when did Han's mother and the sheriff knew each other? Bah, that isn't important right now. Mrs. Frey letting go of her hands to shake the sheriffs.

"Hey Ruth. How are you doing and who is this?" said the Sheriff as he stands beside Sam. She still hasn't moved but can see him from on the periphery of her vision. Mrs. Frey put a hand on her shoulder and reorient Sam to face the sheriff. She's never seen him up close, always from a distance. "This is Sam Groves. She's Hanna's best friend." Mrs. Frey introducing her to the Sheriff. Han always said to never get close to the police. She can feel the weight of the pistol at the back of her jeans and in her backpack. To say that if both were to be discovered, means trouble for her is an understatement. Sam looked up at the man and did not bother to smile or say anything. "Don't mind her, she's in a bit of a shock right now from everything that's happened." Continued Mrs. Frey as she still holding her shoulder. 'Please let go of me.' The sheriff's face frowned a little at the recognition of her name. It's a face she has seen countless of times now. 'This man will never believe what she says.'

"Oh, you're Beth Groves kid. You're on the witness list, so we can get your statement. Don't worry, it's just a formality. Come by the station when you feel better." said the sheriff as she walked towards Mr. Frey who went back pacing in the living room. Just a formality? Was it because they won't value her statement or are they dead set on the mutt like Han's parents? The tone in which he said mom's name implies that he already has assumptions about Sam. He's just bad code.

"So? Did the bastard talked?" Said Mr. Frey, barely able to contain his voice. They aren't going to believe her, are they? Han was right, they were only kind to her because she was their daughter's only friend. Is she going to talk to the sheriff? The brunette regularly says that they should never talk to the police, and the sheriff isn't going to believe her anyway. "No, he hasn't said anything yet but I'm sure he will tell us where Hanna is soon." Said the sheriff while shaking his head. Idiots, they are all idiots. Why are they so focused on the mutt when he clearly can't even wipe his own ass? Sam tuned out the scene that's in front of her where Mr. Frey is talking to the sheriff. These people, their code are not functioning properly. She can't continue to listen to this drivel anymore. If they are not even trying to find the actual monster, she just has to find that man herself.

Like a switch being flipped in her head, she quickly spun around and made her way to Han's room. "Sam?" Said Mrs. Frey, sounding uncertain from behind her. She ignored Mrs. Frey and was met by the pink mess that was Han's room. She tried not to get choked up by the sight of the room and made a beeline to the hand-built computer that she always used. She didn't even bother to close the door as she turns on the computer and connect it to the DMV to search for that man's address. If that sheriff comes into this room, he will witness something very illegal and probably arrest Sam on the spot. But at this point, she doesn't care anymore. She just want to find out what happened.

Her heart missed a beat when a cup of chocolate liquid was placed on the table by the keyboard. Sam's head snapped up seeing Mrs. Frey with a melancholic smile and said. "I know how much you love hot chocolate. God willing, it would make you feel better, even if it's just a little." Sam just looked on with astonishment at the display of compassion as Mrs. Frey turned around and head out. "Thank you." Sam crocked out, her voice sounding so rough to her ears. Mrs. Frey stopped and gave her a small smile before going back to the living room. Sam just stares at the cup before drinking it. She didn't notice how thirsty she had become until the hot chocolate entered her mouth. It must have been hours since the last time she drank something. Sam wasn't sure why she was so moved by the drink.

Turning her attention back to the computer as it spits out the address of Trent Russell. That address isn't too far, It's just on the other side of town. Peering down to her wrist to see the time, it's 4pm. How the hell is time flying by so fast? She barely did anything. The tapping feeling at the back of her head started again in conjunction with the pressure. Quickly turning off the computer, she then stands up and feels reassured by the weight of the pistol on her back. As she made her way out, she saw Han's parents sitting in the living room. It seems like the sheriff has left. Mr. Frey is holding Mrs. Frey's hand in an apparent attempt to console his crying wife. Sam's heart freezes and her breathing stopped at the sight. The room where she had experienced so many wonderful memories with this family now held so much heartbreak. It's just does not look right. She wasn't the only one that is suffering from this. She closes her eyes, unable to continue looking at the scene and made her way out of the house.

Took her ten minutes to reach the junction to the street where the house was on. As she looked down the street from her bike, she felt her heart rising faster and her body is being poked by needles. The house is just up ahead, but just could not will herself to go forward. Looking down at her hands, her knuckles are white from the death grip she has on the bike handles. Why is so hamstrung by fear? Never had she been this afraid. Letting go of the handle so she could feel the comfort of the pistol on her back and with a deep breath, she went down the street towards the house.

As she rides down the street, she sees a single row of houses on one side while the other side is lined with vacant lands and bushes. Those would be the perfect spot for her to hide to observe the house. Before she even reached the house number 44, she spots the car parked in the driveway. She felt acid in her mouth as she gets closer and sees the license plate. If the car was still at home, that means the man was in the house. She felt unnerved at the thought of that and rode her bike as fast as possible, crashing into the bushes to get out of sight.

Getting herself into position for the best viewing angle without exposing herself to anyone put her in an uncomfortable location, being prodded by branches of the shrubs. Looking at the house, it screams wealth, a single person living in a double story house in the middle of a small town. Who does this man want to impress? Young girls, apparently. Sam felt sick as she just continue to look at the house and could see no one in it because the curtains were closed. She really should have brought binoculars with her. It's a pain to not be able to see closer. Was Han in that house right now? What is that man doing in the house if Han is still in it? Should she go in there, guns blazing? She shook her head to get rid of those impulsive thoughts. It's incredibly stupid of her to go in with no plan whatsoever, especially if this person is dangerous.

She doesn't know how long it has been since she been looking at that house when she spots movement by the curtains. It's a shadow of someone tall, so it must be Russell. Not long after that, the front door open revealing that man. No longer was he wearing his usual suit that she normally saw, now wearing some soiled casual clothes. Her heart stopped when she saw his face. Even from this distance and without binoculars, she can see a dark bruise on his cheek. That must be Han's handiwork. That means Han must have fought back, but if he's walking around and Han is nowhere to be seen…

She wants to hope, but hope is so painful. Banishing such horrible thoughts and see evidence of what happened, not just see that man's face. That beast entered that accursed and drove away. Where is that man going? This is a chance for her to go in! As she get out of her observation position and got out to the open, she froze. How long will that man be out? She has never observed that beast's patterns before and can't make a reasonable estimation. What if that man came back when she's inside of the house? There's too much risk for her to go in there alone. Even with a gun, that man can easily overpower her if he got the drop on her. Also, she isn't in the best state of mind right now and Han will scream Sam's brains out if she ever finds out the unnecessary risk she took. What could she do now? The only organization that can do something right now is the police. But can she trust the police? Bah, she can't waste her time with indecision. She went back through the shrubs to get her bike and pedal away to the only place where she can make an untraceable call.

She's back in the clubhouse and is staring at the phone. Steeling herself, she picks up the phone and dial 911. She hears a beep and another one before someone picks up the call.

"911. What is your emergency?" A voice of a female operator sounds through the phone.

What should she say? She hasn't thought that far yet.

"Hello? Who is this?"

She better say everything.

"It's about Hanna. The girl who's gone missing. I saw her get into a car outside the library that night."

Please believe her.

"What sort of car?"

Why didn't she pay more attention whenever Han would talk about cars?

"It was a dark two-seater car."

Hopefully that's descriptive enough.

"Did you see who was in it?"

Should she tell it was Russell? Would they even believe her? They will never believe her if she says it's Russell.

"It was a man."

She can feel her heart racing.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"The license plate. 925 EFK."

She tries to keep a steady voice.

"Okay, and what's your name?"

What? Why would she give her name at all? They will just throw out this call if she tells them her name.

"Please, can I have your name?"

Sam hangs up the phone. She let out an exhausted sigh and look at her watch; it's 6pm. She hasn't taken a break for seven hours now and she feels like she can collapse at any point. Hopefully that was enough to sic the police towards that man. Sam claps her cheeks to force some life into her. She can't crumple in on herself right now. Making her way to the table filled with radio equipment at the corner of the living room/computer room. She turns on the transceiver and tuned into the police channels. Not bothering to use the headphone, she turns on the speaker as loud as she can handle, and she listens.

She waited and waited as she just stares at the transceiver like it's the most important item in the world, not noticing the passage of time. Listening to every radio call on the police frequency for any sign of the arrest of that man or finding Han. Her mind is just blank except for that constant pressure. She couldn't think of anything productive things to do while she waits for the police to do something. As she just sits there waiting, her hands couldn't stop moving and has been unconsciously picking on the hem of her denim jacket.

The house is so quiet, and it unnerves her how silent it is. There were no sounds of keyboard typing, no soft sounds of humming, the sound of the lathe spinning or the clangs of tools in the garage, and there was no sound of feet tapping. Just the sound from the radio of occasional dispatcher talk or officer talk, and all of it has nothing to do with the man or Han. She feels so cold despite it being the middle of a warm Texan spring.

A light coming in from the outside broke the hypnotic state she was in while staring into the radio. Looking out of the window from her seat, she saw it was pitch black outside. Huh? It couldn't possibly be that late already. She looked towards the clock that was on the wall of the computer room, but she couldn't see the time because darkness covered the room. The only source of light in this room was from the dim yellow lights that's on the transceiver that was the center of her attention. Her throat and eyes feel so dry right now. A feeling of nausea as she starts thinking about what happened. What time is it and how long has it been since she sat down? If it has been so long, why haven't the police arrest that man or find Han yet? She gave them everything they needed. They aren't fucking busy, so why hasn't there been anything on the radio? Did they not believe her because she didn't tell them her name or did they check that license plate but didn't suspect that man because of who he was?

A sound of a stomach growl broke her train of despair thought. Trembling hands on her stomach, she can feel how hungry she has become, but Sam doesn't think she can eat anything without puking it all out. With a herculean effort, she got up from the chair that she has been occupying for who knows how long. Using the wall as support, she made the short but agonizing journey to turn on the light switch. The harsh white light now illuminates the room, allowing her to see the time. She feels like something cracked in her when she registered how long it has been since she made the call and felt like collapsing right at the spot. It's a pain for her just to swallow her own spit so she slowly made her way to the kitchen to drink some water. She just realized she forgot something after she drank. Mom! She didn't tell mom she won't be home. It's almost midnight and mom is going to be so worried right now. She sluggishly ran to grab a small police scanner by the radios and put it in her bag before turning off the lights and go back home.

Exhausted by the cycling back home, she just stare at the front door of her trailer house, realizing that she could have just called mom that she won't be back home. Rubbing her face, she felt so drained to a point that she's not thinking straight. Upon entering her home, she instantly spots mom laying on the couch sleeping. Normally she would feel guilt for causing mom trouble, but she just can't feel much of anything right now. Getting closer to mom, she can see that mom is sleeping at such an awkward angle with her dark blonde hair covering most of her face. It's better to wake her up.

Mom's eyes snapped open at the slight shake she gave her and slowly sat up. Sam instantly knows from her eyes that mom is on her those medications that those doctors gave her. Don't they know that it doesn't work for mom and just makes it more difficult? "Sam? You're late." Mom said dreamily. She needs to bring mom back to her bed and not let her sleep here. "Sorry. I lost track of time. Come, let's get you to bed." Sam said with a hoarse voice as she pull her mom up and guides her to her room. "I heard that your friend is missing." Mom said with an ethereal voice, like her mind was barely here. She must have heard it at the diner or something. "Yeah." Said Sam, sounding dead. She placed mom on her bed and turned around but stopped by what mom said. "Odd that I never met her." Mom said sleepily with her eyes close while laying on the bed. In retrospect, her reasoning was completely asinine. "Goodnight mom."

She entered her small room and face planted on her hard bed with her backpack still on. Taking off her backpack, she grabs the police scanner and plugged it in. She tries to lie on her back, but the sharp poke of Han's pistol that she had forgotten is still on her. She can't take it out and put on the table. Mom might see it tomorrow, so better just keep it there. Laying on her side, she turns on the police scanner and listens in.

Time seems to flow differently for Sam as she lies on the stiff bed and looks at the police scanner. Her brain doesn't seem to register any of the mundane police radio transmissions because her brain just kept rewinding today's and last night event's events. Or was it yesterday's and the day before events? Is this what it feels like for mom? She was becoming more and more delirious as time moves on. She should have just gone into that house. Why did she even rely on police? Han always said they were dumb pieces of shit. Well, not using the word shit, since she is a puritan. Damn the torpedoes! She should have just gone guns blazes into that house. She should have just shot that man when he drove out of that driveway.

Why isn't there anyone helping Han? She beguiled everyone she met in this fucking town, and yet when the time she needs help, no one is there helping her. Sam hates this fucking town so much. Everyone in this fucking town is complicit in this. Han was right; humans are pathetic and useless creatures. What can she have to do to make this right? Is there something she can do with her skills to make fix this? The longer she lies on the bed, the less hope she has that she would ever see Han again. Has she been in denial since that announcement? Have she been thinking that Han is gone forever since she saw her getting into that accursed car? Her futile actions today seem to suggest that she was just half-assing her efforts. Will she ever hear the soft hums of queer songs again? Will they ever dance again? Will they ever code a program together again? Will she ever feel the soft touches or laughter of her friend ever again? No, Han can't be gone yet. Sam haven't fixed her yet, she has to fix her friend's broken code.

The blazing light of the sun is hitting directly at her eye. It's morning already? If the sun is in her room, that means it's 9am. Mom must have left for work without disturbing her, which was considerate of her. Sam continue to just lay on her bed being bathed by the warm sunlight, but she couldn't feel anything right now; she feels so lifeless, so hollow, so vacant. She has to do something, even if she doesn't have the energy to do anything right now. Waiting for help from someone else is useless. She must be the one to enter that fucking house, even if it kills her. Sitting up from her position that she has been laying for the past nine hours is nauseating and disorientating. She can't waste time now. She must move forward.

She's in front of that house again, but this time she didn't even bother to hide. There isn't any car in the driveway, meaning that man isn't in the house right now. Is he at work or just gone somewhere to for a while and is going to come back soon? If she's honest with herself, she really doesn't give a flying fuck anymore. She went to the side fence gate beside the garage that she spotted yesterday and entered through there. As she made her way to the back door of the house, she noticed the ground beside the garage was freshly dug up, if the lack of grass in that area showed anything. The pressure at the back of her head became unbearably strong as she stares at that piece of dirt. She's sure it was nothing. Maybe he took up gardening recently. Unlocking the back door was a walk in the park and pull-out Han's pistol before she entered the house.

The first thing she smells when entering the house is the powerful odor of Clorox, causing her to feel dizzy. It instantly triggers a memory of a conversation she and Han had a couple of years ago.

"Amateurs would first use normal household cleaning products or something stupid like vinegar and baking soda to clean blood." Han said out of the blue.

"Why are you even talking about cleaning blood, Han? We're eating cereal." Replied Sam, mystified by what brought up such a topic.

"They would keep using on using bleach until the blood is gone, but that would leave such a strong smell. Not that bleach isn't a good chemical, but it isn't the best." Han said, completely ignoring Sam's remark. If she's not going to stop, better indulge her.

"So why do we not use bleach?" Sam said monotonously.

Sam smiled brightly at her and said with too much joy in her voice. "I'm glad you asked Sam, and it's super simple. If it's super fresh blood stains, we'll just use 6% Hydrogen Peroxide and just scoop up the foam, leaving behind nothing. If the blood stain been there for a bit or an old blood stain, we'll use 6% Hydrogen Peroxide till we get most of the stain off, then use both Hydrogen Peroxide and Ammonia Hydroxide with the help of an iron. That would remove any trace of blood from anything."

Sam just look at her friend happily talking and eating cereal like she's discussing the weather and not something morbid. "Not sure when that would be useful, Han."

"Knowing how to clean blood stains is always useful, Sam. Who knows? Maybe you'll need to clean off someone else's blood from your shirt~." Han said whimsically and gave Sam a wild smile.

Her breathing started to become shallow, and her heart is pounding faster. The man was cleaning up blood. Was it Han's blood… She must continue, she can't just stop at this fucking kitchen. As she walked on, she saw a trash bin by the kitchen counter. Peering inside, she saw miscellaneous broken items. Was there a struggle? Did Han break this?

Using her nose to guide her to where the smell of Clorox is the strongest leads her to the living room. Her heart dropped when she saw the living room. Large black trash bags filled the room, the couch cushions were missing, and the smell was so strong. As she went closer to the trash bags, something caught her eye, a framed picture. It was a picture of the man and the librarian. She would normally have gotten angry, but right now, she just felt like a hollow shell.

Dropping the pistol by her side, she kneeled down near one of the trash bags and opened it. Revealing brown stained towels and rags with a stench of bleach. Opening the next bag only to see the couch cushions that are covered in dark red, that awfully looks like blood. Sam quickly closes that bag, leaving her body shaking uncontrollably from that sight. She doesn't know why she continues to the next bag, but she isn't thinking much of anything right now. Opening it revealed brown stained cloths, but what drew her attention was the strains of brown hairs, a bloody knife that looks so familiar and a pink wristwatch. Sam unconsciously picks up the watch to scrutinize it and standing up. The pressure at the back of the head is now just hammering into her skull.

It's the same wristwatch Han uses, it's the same shade of pink she loves, it has the same perfume smell that she loves to use, and it's the same watch that her friend used that night. If the watch is hers, Han's bloody knife, then that means that red stain… There's so much blood and the freshly dug ground….

Sam dropped the wristwatch like it was searing her hand and felt everything spinning. Her world was becoming unstable, with her eyes becoming blurry, causing her to collapse on her knees and puked her guts out, but nothing came out. She doesn't know how long she had been dry retching when she stopped. Her hands were covering her mouth as if she were trying to stop things from coming out of her mouth. She felt water streaming down her hands. Was she crying? She hasn't cried since she met Han… Just like that, the dam that she created from that night fell, and she started uncontrollably sob. A tsunami of emotions crashed into the empty shell that was Sam giving way to a litany of self-reproach.

Worthless.

Weak.

Bad code.

Useless.

Degenerate.

Scum.

Make it stop. It hurt so much. Sam should just die as well. Cut it out. Make it stop. Why the fuck is she crying? Tears won't fix anything. Failure. 'Pull yourself together!' Make it stop. Someone help. She can't do this. 'I just want to help her. I just want her back.' Not alone. Make it stop. Everything around her is so dark right now. 'Help me! Someone please help.' Everything hurts so much. Useless. She can't breathe, she feels so cold, she feels sick. It feels like she's being stabbed a million times by a broken glass. Why is there no one helping her? Stop crying! She feels like she's drowning from the continues spiraling thoughts.

Stop this… Stop…. Stop!

'Because you are alone, and nobody will help you.'

She doesn't know how long she's been sobbing, but when she stopped; she felt like she was bleed dry. Sam just sits there on the floor, surrounded by bags of evidence of her friend's murder. What's the point of anything anymore? She can feel that her face is wet from the tears and snot as she just stare blankly at the wall. The wall that hung the picture of that man and that bitch looking so happy together. Looking at those dumb, selfish humans. Han was right, humans are worthless. Those humans are just bad codes. All humans are just bad code.

Bad code.

Bad code.

The crack in her that she felt earlier broke as she just stare at that picture. A hoarse sounding laughter starts filling the cursed house. She couldn't feel the pain of every breath she takes as she continues to laugh like a mad hatter. Rage boils in her as she continues her hysteria.

'I'm going to make you suffer and I'm going to kill you.' Sam thought as she continue to look at that photograph. 'And I'm going to make you suffer your entire life, you fucking bitch.'

HANNA FREY POV

The sounds of the radio playing music echo from the motel room into the seedy bathroom, mixing in with the sound of running tap water. Hanna's eyes were closed as her head was in the basin to wash her hair for the last time today. She really should have done this in a salon or something. It's such a bothersome thing to do in a lousy motel bathroom sink. Feeling that it's all washed out, she turns off the water and dries her hair with the towel that's just beside the sink. Removing the towel from her head, she opens her eyes to look at the limescale stained mirror.

Examining her new damped hair with her hand. No longer does her hair reach to her lower back as it is now somewhere between a chin length and a shoulder length hair. It's really a rough looking cut. Oh well, she hasn't cut her hair since she came to this plane of existence. Honestly, if this is the result isn't too bad considering that she didn't even have hair for a large portion of her last life. The new blonde hair coloring developed nicely, no dark spots or odd shades. Hanna's current hair looks like Sam when they first met, before her friend grew out her hair so they can braid each other hairs. Hanna looks like a taller, paler version of her friend. That sickly feeling came back at the slightest thought of her friend. Shaking her head to remove the feeling, she continues on. It's a pity that she can no longer braid her own hair in an elaborate fashion. Hanna really loves braiding hair.

Looking down a little, she sees her white shirt is now dirty by the hair dye. Really shouldn't have used white, huh. With a sigh, she removes the dye-stained shirt, leaving only her camisole on her. She really hasn't looked at herself in the mirror properly since arriving in Fayetteville. Oddly enough, the cold void has been relatively silent ever since she came here except for that small buzzing sound, but that's easy to ignore. She really looks worse for wear with her face and skin being sickly pale, most likely from the blood loss. The shadow under her eye from the lack of sleep gives a contrasting look on her ghostly pale skin. Looking down from her face to her neck, she sees a big purple bruise that wrapped around her neck; the coloring of the bruise is being exaggerated by the paleness of her skin. It's a miracle that no one commented on it when she bought the hair dye at the store or when she checked into the motel. Thank the stars for shady motels in the shady part of town.

Touching the bruise on her neck. She really didn't expect that this would happen. Really need to buy a concealer for this or maybe get a turtleneck, but using a turtleneck would be dreadful in the Louisiana heat and humidity. Looking away from the mirror to look at her wrist and arm, that is littered with bruises. Anemia from the blood loss must be causing her to bruise so much. Luckily, the whites of her eyes didn't bleed from the strangulation she had to endure, can't really hide that easily without needing to use sunglasses constantly, and she ain't going to be those schmucks that wear sunglasses indoors. At least that creep didn't damage any of her face, which was very considerate of him.

Satisfied with her condition if she ignores that sickly feeling, she turns off the one dim light in the bathroom and exits. Looking at the motel room it really is in a pitiful state, but she couldn't expect any better with the price she paid for it. Making her way to the desk that her IBM P/S 2 P75 and other things were on. Sitting down by the table, to her left she sees the Texas driving license she's been using since leaving Bishop. It uses the picture of her with long brunette hair with the name of Begonia Fermat. The first thing is to get a new Louisiana ID fitting her new image if she's sticking to the plan of staying in this state for a while before moving on. Thinking of new identities, she should find a new name for herself. Not a pseudonym for IDs, but a new name to call herself. She always planned on doing that since coming to this world. Hanna had fourteen years of thinking up a name for herself, but she seemed to have forgotten about it until now. Anyway, she just have to infect the local DMV with her rootkit to create her new fake ID and it's a nice starting point for her yet to be formed network of hacked government institutions. That gives her more than enough time to think up a new name.

Peering to the right side of the table sits her new pistol, a Ruger P89. She should have just bought a pistol that she's used to because this gun is a bit on the bigger side for her hands. Maybe she can change the grip for a more comfortable user experience. A pity that she couldn't bring her Ruger Standard; that gun has served her well throughout the years. Hopefully, it would serve its inheritor well.

Looking towards the portable computer that she's already set up and connect the phone line into the modem earlier while waiting for her hair to be done. The switch gave a satisfying tactile click sound as she turns on the computer and illuminating the orange monochrome plasma screen showing the boot up sequence. She's greeted by the login screen to her custom Unix OS.

\$Login: Su

\$Password:_

Huh, why not just use Su? Sam already knows that name, so when they get back together, it won't be awkward for her to introduce herself in another name. Yeah, Su would be a perfect personal name for herself, but she would need to a different name for work. Can't have Sam finding out she's alive before she's fixed herself. Shouldn't be too hard to figure out a work name, maybe something funny that relates to the word Su. Speaking of work, she might as well start finding contacts here and form a personal network. Might lead her to interesting paths.

A/N: Say bye-bye to Sam and Hanna, with this ends the first arc of the story. 2nd Arc will spend from 1991 to 2nd season of POI (2012/13). Not sure how I'm going to write the next 22ish years of this story, Timeline for the 90s and early 2000s is quite bare but there are some important plot points in those years so I might do chapters with timeskips. I'll probably write the outline during my vacation that starts tomorrow and start posting new chapters after.