#Christina Oh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samcscreams · 7 months

Text

It can't be a coincidence

Hello friends! This one shot was inspired by @doctorwhoarchive it would not have been possible without her! Also took an inspiration form this post. Im also super proud of this one. Its my biggest project yet and I put a lot of time and effort into it so I hope you like it!

Also a shout out to @monarchsrus for all the writing advice!

Trigger warning: Drug Use

Word count: 7.5k

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It was like any other day. Sam rolled over to turn her alarm clock off. It had been about 9 months since she’d been able to actually wake up to the sounds. No, most days she wakes hours before her alarm clock goes off and just stars at the ceiling waiting for time to pass her by.

After turning it off she rolls over and sit on the edge of her bed. After taking a much needed deep breath she begins to get ready for school.

She shuffled over to her closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and makes her way to her sisters room.

“Knock Knock. You up yet Tar?” She asked as she slowly opened the door.

Her baby sister was still curled up under her covers. Sam sighed knowing she was gonna have to be responsible and wake her up. She just looked so peaceful while sleeping, it broke her heart to be the one to ruin it.

“Hey time to wake up big girl.” Sam rubbed circles in Taras back to coxes her out of sleep.

As Tara started to stir awake she smiled at the sight of her big sister.

“Morning Sammy” She said with a toothy grin as she rubbed sleep from her eyes

“Im gonna use the bathroom. Make sure you pick out some clothes and pack your book bag” Sam said as she left.

Tara felt the emptiness of the room eat her alive. Sam would normally help her pick out her clothes and at least say good morning in return. But lately Sam just wasn’t the same. Tara sat up in bed wondering if she did something wrong.

After Sam was done in the bathroom she was putting her clothes on when she noticed her jeans were now officially two inches higher than when she got them.

“Dammit” She muttered to herself. Sadly, she had gone through a growth spurt only a month after she found the diaries.

Therefore Christina has been less than eager to go shopping with her daughters. Christina also thought since Tara never seemed to grow and could still fit into some of her preschool shirts the other one should be just as fine.

She was not fine, far from fine but she would never tell anyone that. So when Sam went to put on the t-shirt she pulled from her closet she flexed just a bit too hard casing the back seem to pop. She looked over into the mirror and almost chuckle as she looked like the hulk ripping out of her own clothes.

She needed a plan and fast as she would need to head down stairs to make tara breakfast soon. Then it hit her, her dad not dad left his clothes. He’s gotta have something she could take.

Sam snuck into her mothers room and over to her dads not dad closet. Upon entering she took a deep breath taking in the lingering smell that used to smell like safety, like home. She looked up towards the top shelf. There were a random assortment of old band shirts so she grabbed the top one. ‘Nirvana, perfect’ she thought to herself and snuck back out not waking her mother in doing so.

She grabbed her combat boots, as they were the only shoes that fit her, and luckily they made up for the two inches that her pants didn’t cover on her legs. She then grabbed her zip up hoodie and made her way down stair after seeing tara was no longer in her room.

“Tara?” Sam called as she hit the bottom floor.

“In here Sammy” Tara called back from the kitchen

Once Sam made her way to her sister she was greeted with burnt toast and half squeezed OJ.

“Tara what are you doing?” Sam asked trying to bite back her temper which was becoming alarming harder to do recently.

“I wanted to make you breakfast. To make up for making you mad.” Tara with her big doe eyes stared directly into her big sisters looking for any sign of reassurance that she was forgiven.

“Making me mad? Baby girl what do you mean?” Sam pulled her baby sister in for a hug pushing Taras bangs away to get a clear look at her. Yet Sam could feel the guilt bubbling in her gut.

“You don’t help me get ready for school anymore. I though I did something wrong.” Tara said looking up at Sam tears pricking the corner of her eyes.

Sam mulled over Tara’s words realizing she had been pulling away since last December. But even more recently with starting high school. They’ve been promoting Stab-a-Thon for months at school and truth be told it was starting to get to Sam. She was numb most days to deal with the fear of who she was. Who she could be.

“Im so sorry. I didn’t realize. But no little one. You’ve done nothing wrong. High school is just a lot sometimes. It’s really not your fault.” Sam said as she kneeled down and cupped Tara’s face.

“Oh okay.” Tara respond with in a timid voice.

“Do you like breakfast?” She followed up with, as a smile grew across her tiny face.

Sam took a burnt piece of toast and took a bite. Immediately the ash flavoring coated her mouth. But she swallowed and put on a show.

“Mmmm when did you become a five star chef?” Sam asked making Tara erupt with glee

“Now hurry, go grab your book bag and put on your shoes. Mom will be up soon and we gotta get you to school now don’t we.” Sam said ushering Tara off.

She turned back to the burnt toast on the table and threw it in the trash and went to make some fresh pieces. ‘Tara won’t know the difference’ she thought to herself and right she was. As they made their way out the front door Tara was happily munching on her buttered toast she thought she had made.

Sam was just happy to have gotten everything done without running late for school. As they rounded the corner to walk through the town square, Sam froze in her tracks. Hanging from each lamp post was a Ghostface decoration. She knew it was only a matter of time before she was going to have to face people dressing up as her personal nightmare. But for the whole town to be covered in the reminder of what was in her blood made her stomach flip. It wasn’t until Tara started to tung on her sleeve that she snapped out of her trance.

“Sammy come on. What are you doing?” Tara said trying to get her big sister attention.

“Ya what sorry” Sam said looking down at her sister. She moved to take Taras hand as they continued forward towards Taras elementary school.

“Ouch, too tight” Tara tries to pull her hand from Sam’s. Sam immediately lets go not realizing she tensed her muscles at the sight of a a poster in the book stores window. ‘Today at 1pm Out of Darkness’ Sidney Prescott’s face beaming brightly behind the words.

“Sorry.” Sam said shoving her hands into her jacket pockets.

“What’s gotten into you?” Tara asked rubbing her now throbbing hand. Her big sisters been distant but not careless. Tara waited penitently for her sister to respond but alas all there was was silence.

Sam was frozen again. The sound of a car door caught her attention as she looked behind her and saw none other than Sidney Prescott in the flesh. Her blood ran cold at the sight. It was one thing to hear about her and the stories but there she was clear as day. Sam couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her heart beating in her ears. Her hands started to tingle inside of her pockets as her air ways closed.

“SAM” Tara yelled looking around to figure out what had such a grip on her sister.

“Shit sorry Tara. It’s just…” Sam looked to Tara who was eagerly waiting for the truth.

The truth.

Sam couldn’t face that. Sam couldn’t begin to explain to Tara what was going on with her. Not today. Hopefully never. So she switched on. She had to be there for Tara. She needed to keep it together for her.

“… been hard to sleep that’s all. Im sorry for being weird. No more of that as of now! How about after school today we watch some movies. I'll even make popcorn.” Sam said with a smile on her face. She had to pull it together. She promised to always be there for tara. Just because her life is turning out to be a shit show doesn’t mean she can’t make sure Taras isn’t.

“You mean it?” Tara said jumping a little as she walked.

“I promise” Sam said holding out her pinky. Tara took it with her own and then turned back to walking.

Lucky for Sam, Tara didn’t say anything else as they finished their walk to her school. Her mind raced ‘why was Sidney Prescott in town?. Nobody had seen her in years. Why of all days, times, years was she here?’

Before Sam new it they were outside Taras school.

“Have a good day. Love you” Sam said as she kissed Tara’s forehead

“Love you too!” Tara said walking off towards her group of friends. Sam waived at the twins and Wes.

As soon as Tara was safe inside Sam made her way to school. She put her headphones in and tried to tune out the world.

Only to catch a car rolling by right next to her causing her to jump a little.

“Hey Carpenter” Asked Kirby Reed leaning over to yell out her passenger side window.

“Oh hey Kirby” Sam responded digging her hands further into her jacket pocket.

“Need a ride? I gotta pick up Jill and Olivia still but I'm sure they won’t mind.” She asked with a genuine smile.

Sam thought about it as Kirby had always been so nice to her ever since she got paired with her for adopt a freshmen. It was a program for incoming freshmen to get paired up with a senior to show them the ropes. Sam forgot she signed up before everything went down. She’s honestly glad she did but would never admit to it.

“No i’m gonna walk, thanks tho.” Sam said thought a tight lipped smile.

“Suit yourself freshie” Kirby said stepping on the gas sending her flying down the street right past Sherif Riley.

Sam chuckled as she watch the car try and slow down as the Sherif yelled climbing into his own car.

Not too much later Sam was standing on the lawn of Woodsboro high school. Students swarmed around her going in every which direction. She took a deep breath as she made her way to the front on the school. Only to catch as she walked pass a group a seniors the one piece of information she needed to realize today was going to be her worst nightmare.

“Here is my Woodsboro massacre anniversary question. What is your favorite scary movie?”

‘Shit what’s today’ Sam thought to herself as she puled her old flip phone from her back pocket.

September 28th 2011

“Fuck” Sam muttered to herself.

Today was the 15th anniversary of the original massacre. The one where Billy Loomis her father and Stu Macher killed a bunch of kids at a house party. ‘How could she be so stupid. She knew this day would come. How could she forget’ Sam’s thoughts ran wild as she went to her locker. She couldn’t help but notice the growing pit inside of her. It settled low in her stomach gnawing at her as if it was trying to tell her something.

Once making it to her locker she opened it and put away her book bag and grabbed her stuff for first period. As she went to grab her books she saw her hand was shaking, she grabbed the side of her locker like her life depended on it and took a deep breath to try and steady herself. As her luck would have it, it didn’t work. So she wrapped her arms around her books and hurried off to her first class.

“Sam wait up!”

Sam turned around to see Vince Schneider running up beside her.

“What do you want Vince” Sam said dryly

“Nice to see you to sunshine. I just wanted to ask what you were doing tonight. Ive got a hook up if you're interested.” He said with a sly smile

“What makes you think i’d want to do that?” She asked

“Well you dropped all your old friends in the last year. Just thought you could use the company. Anyway, you know where to find me.” And with that he was gone.

After Sam had found the diaries she effectively pushed everyone she knew away. Not that there was a lot of people to push away in the first place but even acquaintances became strangers agin.

Sam sat in the back of her class and just waited for the bell to ring. It wasn’t that she was dumb or anything she just found it hard to care about how mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. When would that ever be useful?

On days like today time alway seemed to mess with her. One second she was here, the next someplace else. Sometimes time wouldn’t move at all and she'd be suck for what felt like hours. She thought herself lucky when the bell rang faster than she expected. In hindsight she wishes first period never ended.

Sam got settled into second period. She bounced her leg along to the sound of her heart beating in her ears. They were reading The Great Gatsby and were just about to start the open discussion when everybody’s phone started to buzz.

Sam pulled her shitty flip phone out of her back pocket, to her surprise and slight embarrassment she had nothing on her phone. It seemed that everyone had gotten a text about something. Why didn’t she?

“Oh my god Marnie Cooper and Jenny Randall were murdered last night. Says they were stabbed to death. They're saying it was Ghostface” One kid says as the rest of the class starts to erupt with chatter.

“Look” Some other kid said standing up and walking to the windows. There were already news vans racing down the street to set up and start interviewing students.

Sam want to get up to join her classmates but she couldn’t move. Her legs were cemented to the ground and no matter how hard her brain yelled at her arms, they wouldn’t budge. All she could hear were three words dancing around her mind making her skin crawl and the pit in her stomach grow.

Stabbed

Murdered��

Ghostface

Everyone was up staring out the windows but her. Sam could feel her hands start to go numb. At first it was just her pinky finger but the more she sat with the knowledge the more the numbing traveled up her arms.

‘Were her classmates staring at her? When did they all start looking at her? Why were they staring? Do they know. They have to know. They all know.’ Sam’s head was screaming as her breath was becoming more and more labored.

‘Leave, Run, anything’ She heard break through the chatter in her mind. So Sam did exactly that. She ran, leaving all her stuff behind. Pushing through anyone in the hallway, she slammed the bathroom doors open and took the first available stall and locked it behind her curling up into a ball.

At this point her vision was starting to blur and the numbing had spread all over her body. She couldn’t even hear anything over the pounding of her heart inside her chest.

‘“Breath Sam just breath” She muttered to herself as she rocked back and forth in the shall.

Sam wanted to distract herself to calm her mind but there was no escape from the tormenting thoughts. ‘Why was this happening now. Someone had to know. What if she’s next. What if this is all her fault? What if they target Tara?’

“Tara” Sam said though numb lips. If she didn’t know any better she would assume she was having a stroke.

“Hello? Is someone in here?” A voice echoed thought the empty bathroom.

Sam was unwillingly shaking her leg causing the toilet seat they were resting on to rattle which alerted anyone who enters the bathroom of her existence.

“Hello?” The voice said again

Sam tried to speak, she really did, but her words caught in her throat.

“This isn’t funny. I can hear you.”

Sam tried to move again. Only her body was stuck shaking as her mind simply could no longer control her limbs. Sam could hear the girl walk slowly over to the stall she hid behind.

“If you don’t say anything I'm gonna open the door” Said the girl from the other side.

A beat passed and all the air seemed to evaporate from the room as the stall door swung open.

Sam’s body relaxed at the sight of Lindsay White, someone who she use to consider a friend. Well a friendly acquaintance at least.

“Samantha? What the hell is wrong with you? You scared me half to death. With the news of the Ghostface you really think it's funny to scare people?” She said holding a stern disappointed look across her face.

“Its Sam and what kind of psycho opens a bathroom door on someone?.” She said in a dry tone

Sam became free of her panic at the familiarity in front of her. She moved off the toilet seat and out of the stall.

“Ya, ya you go by Sam now. Whatever and you could have said something.” Lindsay said rolling her eyes

“What are you even doing in here? Oh my god have you been crying? What it’s not like you new them or anything” Lindsay noticed the red hints to Sam’s eyes and her face was slightly swollen and tear stained.

“Im fine Lindsay. Just drop it.” Sam snipped

“Drop it, Yeah… Like you dropped me?” Lindsay’s eyes narrowed at Sam. She moved only inches away staring at Sam through the bathroom mirror.

“We weren’t even friends” Sam said refusing to meet Lindsay’s eyes in the mirror as she washed her hands.

“Wow. Didn’t realize I meant so little to you.”

Sam waited a beat hoping the silence would send Lindsay away but Sam’s luck ran out a year ago when she opened that stupid diary.

“What even happened to you? One day you’re saying hi to me in the hall’s, asking to do projects together and the next I don’t even exist to you. Like ya, your dad left or whatever but you barely ever saw him anyway. You got cold and distant.”

Sam was gripping the side of the sink so hard her knuckles were turning white. Lindsay’s voice was like nails on a chalk board, effectively bubbling the constant rage that lay deep in Sam’s stomach.

“Lindsay just go” Sam said looking up to finally meet Lindsay’s gaze.

Lindsay stumbled back at the look on Sam’s face. Her eyes were dark and hooded.

“Oh my god. You did it.”

Sam’s heart imploded at the accusation completely dropping whatever expression she had a moment before.

“What? No… I…” Sam said almost sounding like a pleading child begging for their parents to understand.

“I know you Sam, you always had that glint. But it's more now. It’s different. Something inside you broke over Christmas break causing a dark cloud to always follow you around. Why else would you be hiding in here when the news dropped?” Lindsay’s voice was full of realization as if she found the last pice of the puzzle. But her words made Sam’s skin buzz with fear of the truth.

‘Your just like him’ She heard rattle around in her mind. Bile burned the back of her throat as she tried to swallow her emotions. So before Lindsay could add anything else or, Sam in turn make things worse she pushed pass the girl and ran out of the bathroom. Sam’s mind and body barely keeping up with the panic rising and falling inside of her. Her brain was on fire as her mind started to attack.

‘Murder, killer, you're just like him, Ghostface, stabbed to death, you did it, broken, you can’t escape it, darkness, psychopath, you did this, this is your fault’ Sam just kept running. If she ran fast enough maybe it would all stop maybe the voices would just shut up.

Before she knew it she was three blocks from the school and completely out of breath. She sat down on the closest stoop and tried to relax.

‘Think about the things that make you happy’ Sam remembers one of her mothers friends saying after her father not father left.

So Sam did exactly that she thought of Tara.

“Oh my god Tara” Sam said out loud as she bolted to her feet. Without even thinking her body moved towards her sisters elementary school. If she was gonna feel any better about the events of the day she needed her sister by her side. As they say anyone is a suspect and if that was the case she needed to protect her sister from anyone.

Upon reaching Taras school she saw the line of parents and cars rushing to pick up their children as news of Ghostface spread.

Sam made her way to get in line but stopped only feet away. Frozen once again she saw none other than her mother waiting impatiently in line at the school.

Her mother never picks Tara up. Even when Taras sick she calls Sam out of school so she can go pick her up and deal with it. With that being said their mother defiantly hadn’t called Sam out of school yet.

‘Fuck she can’t see me’ Sam thought to herself. She needed to get out of there and fast. At least she knows Tara’s gonna be at home. She would say safe but Christina as been becoming more and more erratic since last December.

As Sam is backing away she bumps into someone.

“Oh hi their Samantha. Are you here to pick up Tara?” Judy Hicks asked trying to steady the young girl in front of her.

“It’s Sam. But um, no, my mom is. I just came to make sure she got her.” Sam said shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“Sorry, Sam, but before I forget is there a chance you could babysit Wes tonight and tomorrow? With all this craziness id feel much more comfortable if he was with his friends.” Judy looked down at Sam who seemed hesitant to answer.

“Ill pay double” She added

“Okay, ya I just gotta go back to school and get my stuff. You can drop him off whenever. I think my mom should be home with Tara” Sam shot the deputy a small smile before turning and walking back towards the high school.

“Be careful Sam.” Judy added as Sam walked away.

Sam kept walking towards the school but truth be told she’d rather get hit with a car than go back inside of that place. She just need a place to lay low for a bit. Going home was the obvious choice but now that she knows her mother will be there its the last place shell go.

So Sam walked and walked and walked until she came upon a park that wasn’t far from her home. She had taken Tara here to play plenty of times when their parents would fight or if she was babysitting the kids. The park was the first place all day Sam felt safe. So as if her body knew, exhaustion hit her like a truck. From having a plethora of panic attacks to walking what felt like a marathon she was about to collapse. So as soon as she came upon a park bench she sat down. Then she made the mistake of laying down.

‘Just a few minutes’ She thought to her self. It felt so good to just breath for a moment. She was so tired that her mind was finally silent.

“Yo Sam.”

Someone said as a hand shook Sam’s shoulder jolting her awake. In a panic she looked around trying to make out her surroundings. It was well past night fall causing Sam to strain her eyes as she realized who was there.

“God dammit Vince. You scared the shit out of me.” Sam barked

“Whoa don’t yell at me. Your the weirdo sleeping on a park bench with a serial killer on the loose” Vince shot back

“Whatever” She replied as she got up from the bench and stretched. She then noticed the other two kids a few yards away. They were smoking something.

“Why the hell are you here tho for real?” Vince asked sincerity dripping from his tone.

“Its none of your business okay.” Sam’s irritation was bounce off of her like hot oil

“Jesus fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Vince took a moment to take in Sam. His heart pinged seeing this disheveled girl who had clearly been crying most of the day. He saw a similar look flash in her eyes one he can relate too. One that say the world is just too much to take.

“There’s something about you carpenter. We're connected, I don’t know how yet but we are.” Vince looked at Sam with compassion and understanding. It made Sam’s skin burn like a magnify glass being held up to the sun.

“And somehow I'm the weirdo” Sam said as she gabbed her phone from her pocket to check the time.

“My phones dead. What time is it?” She asked putting the useless bric back into her pants packet

“9:18”

Sam sprinted before Vince could say anything else. ‘How the fuck did it get so late. She was suppose to watch Wes, Tara and the twins. Her mother’s gonna beat her senseless’ She thought to herself making her way down the street.

Sam took a second before entering the house. She knew It wasn’t going to be good but with all the kids over maybe that would lessen the punch of her mothers words. Christina would hate if those kids reported back to their parents how poor of a mother she is.

Then it hit Sam. The unnerving sounds of shear quiet. She couldn’t hear anything. There was no birds chirping or bugs buzzing. There wasn’t even the sound of the wind rushing though the trees. But worst of all there wasn’t the sounds of four 9 year olds running wild within the house. It was like the world was frozen with fear.

Sam sucked in a deep breath as she opened the front door. She yelled out for her sister to have some form of hope call back to her that everything was going to be okay. That her light was inside this haunted home and she was safe. But no words answered back. Just empty echoes of a broken house. Sam could feel the numbing tingles prick her pinkies once again. As she moved through the house every alarm in her body went off telling her to leave. To just turn back around and go. She knew she wasn’t safe, but when was Sam ever good at listing.

“Mom?” Sam asked once spying the older women standing in the kitchen wine glass in hand.

Christina took the last swig of her drink and began to poor another. Not even bothering to look up at her eldest.

“Where’s Tara?” Sam asked trying to suppress her panic. Yet her words fell on deff ears as her mother just continued to drink. Sam’s panic quickly shaped into anger. She didn’t like not knowing if Tara was safe or not.

“Mom where is Tara?” Sam said again more sternly finally pulling her hands from her pockets.

Yet again her mother completely ignored her.

Sam could feel the way the numbing sensation dissipated in her hands. She could feel them start to itch as they bawled into vengeful fists.

“I swear to God, if you don’t answer me I'm gonna…” Sam was cut off before she could finish

“Your gonna what Samantha? You're gonna hurt me? Huh? Is that it? You're gonna grab that knife and go to town? Gonna make daddy proud?”

Her words were like shrapnel from a bomb, logging themselves deep into Sam’s skin. But Sam stood there and took it. Absorbing the blows and pulling the pain into her rage.

“Fuck you. Im not playing this game. Where’s Tara?” Sam hissed at her mother.

“You couldn’t even last a year. I mean I knew it was inevitable, turning into him. It's always their Samantha, right in your eyes. I bet you’ve been planning since the night your bastard mouth ruined my life. You’ve just been biding your time until that bitch Prescott came back to town.” Christina could barely stand but that didn’t stop her from unleashing every vile thought in her mind.

Sam knew she should have walked away. She knew she should have taken the last bit of her sanity and walked away. But holding the rage back was becoming harder and harder with the bullets that left her mothers mouth. If she moved now she might not have control over what she did next and Christina could tell. She could see the way her daughter was seething under her words. Most mothers would stop at the visible anguish they cause their children. But Christina wasn’t most mothers.

“I sent Tara away to the twins house with Wes. As you should have been the one to watch them but I knew they wouldn’t be safe with you.”

“Excuse me” Sam spit out as red seeped in around her vision. She knew acting on her range would only prove her mother right.

“Don’t act coy, you heard me. God Samantha how do you live with yourself. How does it even feel?” Her mother started to cry, fake tears of course but it didn’t stop Sam’s heart from wincing at the sound.

“Answer me demon child. How did it feel? Say it! How did it feel to gut those kids Samantha!” Her mother yelled from across the counter.

“Just stop. Please” Sam felt the tears sting the back of her eyes. She didn’t realize she was teetering on the edge of rage and sorrow effectively falling to sadness. She would much rather feel the burn of rage than see her mother beam with pride at her tears.

“You were never a good liar Samantha. You’ve had plenty of time to deny my words but you stood there as if they were true. Because deep down you know they are. Deep down you're the same monster he was. As soon as I heard the news I knew it was you. Thank god I went to pick up Tara when I did.”

Sam’s breath hitched in her throat. She could feel the shame spread across her chest as she realized the only reason her mother was at Taras school was because she thought Sam had killed those girls. The realization hit that her mother wasn’t being mean for the fact that Sam caused her father not father to leave, like in the past. No, she genuinely believes Sam is following in her real father’s foot steps.

“You can kill me but I'll never allow you to hurt Tara” That was the last thing Sam remember’s hearing. A ringing replaced any and all sounds that followed and her vision was more crimson than before.

“Don’t you EVER say I would hurt Tara. She is everything to me. That’s something you could never understand. So don’t act like you care. Don’t act like I'm the threat here. We both know who you are so let me make everything clear. If you hurt her I will follow in his foot steps without even thinking. Do you understand.”

Fear flashed across her mothers face as she nodded and made her way out of the kitchen. Only to get one last word in before she walked down the hall.

“He was possessive too, just like his mother. Guess it runs in the family” her voice was soft as if she was whispering words of love to a child. Yet the words weren’t full of love but full of poison.

Sam stood there as the words washed over her mind. ‘Was her love for Tara toxic? Could she hurt her? Did it run in the family’ she thought to herself realizing she was holding in her breath. As she turned to leave she saw in her hand was a kitchen knife. Not knowing when or how she got a hold of it she threw it in the sink shuddering at the loud clinking sound it made as it settled.

“Can’t run from who you are Sam.” A deep voice echoed through her mind

Which in turn made Sam jump out of her skin but the voice was right. There was something wrong with her and she couldn’t get a grip on it. So Sam did what she does best and ran. Right out the front door and down the street back towards the park.

Before she new it she was coming into view of Vince and his friends again.

“Carpenter, back so soon?” Vince said trying to hide a sly smile.

“I just need it to stop” Sam said march right up to him.

“Whoa whoa what are you talking about?” He asked trying to stepped back at her sudden closeness.

“No, no questions. I just… I can’t handle this anymore. I can’t feel like this anymore” Sam said running her hands thought her hair. She was coming apart at her seams.

One of the other kids that was there walked over to a pacing Sam.

“Here you want this” They said holding out a joint to the clearly panic stricken girl.

Sam slowly reached for it. Her hands shook as she tried to carefully grab the object of her desires. But Vince saw all too clearly that look of fear in her eye. So he reached out his hand to stop hers.

“What the hell” Sam snapped at him like a dog nipping at its owner for taking its food.

“You don’t want that. It will just make your more paranoid” Vince said while rummaging around in his pocket.

“This is what you really want” He finished pulling a small pill out from his coat.

“What is that?” Sam asked in a soft broken tone.

“Xanax. All your little worries will be long gone with this baby” Vince said with a smile placing the pill into Sam’s hand.

Without even thinking Sam swallowed the pill and walked over to the bench she was laying on before. Within minutes Sam started to feel better. It was the first time in a while someone was honest to her. All her worries were slowly drifting away along with herself. She doesn’t remember most of the night. Just the feeling of floating away.

In the morning she woke to a killer headache in a house she didn’t quite recognize. Only to see Vince and the other kids all passed out around her. She made her way to the first bathroom she could find to try and wash up. She had another long day ahead of her and school was the last thing she wanted to attend.

She turned the water on to wash her face. As she waited for the water to warm up she finally took in her appearance. Her hair was a tangled mess and her skin was pale from exhaustion. But mainly her eyes seemed haunted and tired. They were still blood shot from the drugs she took the night before. It made her shudder, the look of herself, she honestly didn’t really know who was staring back at her in that mirror.

Sam tested the water again and slashed her face taking deep breaths as she fought off the impeding thoughts of what to do next. She knew she had a lot to face today. Yesterday was just so overwhelming it felt like her brain split in two.

Wiping her face off she looked back up to see how well she washed off the last 24 hours. Only to see someone else staring back at her. She jumps out of her skin and fell to the floor. Trying to take deep breaths to calm down.

“Come on Sam get it together. Nobody is there. It's fine. You're fine.” She says to calm herself down.

Sam slowly stands back up and faces the mirror. Her legs turn to cement as an explosion of anxiety and fear spread all over her body. Her lips go numb and her hands shake as she stars none other than Billy Loomis in the eye.

“Y.. y… you’re not R…real. It’s just the drugs” Sam stutters out

“We both know it’s not the drugs Sam. We both know why I’m here” Billy says in his hunting voice.

Sam can feel a cold sweat run down her spine. She can feel the way a dark pit forms in the center of her body. She can feel how she wishes it was fear, how her heart yearns for her gut to tell her this is all wrong. But it doesn’t. The pit only grows as she stares her father in the eye and it feels like power. All consuming, all intoxicating power. Her hands start to itch causing her to look down breaking the connection Billy had with her. She examines her hands noticing things she never had before. The way they're covered in scars and bruises. The way they’ve been itching and burning every time her anger goes unchecked. The way they have the power to kill and how much they crave it. So, she shoves them in her pocket and bolts out the door. She can’t think of what’s next she only knows that nobody around her is safe. That what’s happening can’t be a coincidence, Sam is at fault and everybody knows it.

Before Sam can get to the front door she runs right into Vince. Knocking them to the floor.

“Fuck Carpenter”

Sam ignores the boy and gets up to leave but he stops her before she can go, effectively catching her wrist in his grip.

“Wait are you okay?” He asked noticing the shine in her eyes.

“Its whatever. I gotta go” Sam said pulling her arm from his grasp.

“Fine, just here” He said putting a small baggie filled with Xanax into her hand

“But I…” She started and was cut off before she could continue

“You seem like you need it more than I do” He said with a soft smile

“Thanks” She said with a nod and turned to leave.

Upon making it outside and down the driveway Sam could feel the weight of the little baggie in her pocket. She pulled it out and looked down at it rubbing the plastic between her fingers.

The back of her mind was buzzing with all the suppressed thoughts of what just happened. She knew that door would break eventually.

“You can’t run from me Sam” A voice broke through her rattling mind causing her to pop another pill before she could even blink.

In a nearby car she could she the outline of Billy glaring at her leaving perpetual goosebumps on her skin. But as the Xanax started to take effect her skin returned to its softness and her vision was clear. She relished in the way her mind grew quiet and her body got lighter.

But with a quiet mind comes a lack of judgement. So Sam found herself standing in the kitchen of her own home when all of a sudden she felt a weight collide into her and wrap its arms around her.

“Where were you?” Tara said clinging to Sam with all her strength.

“What?” Sam said trying to push the doe eyed girl off her.

“You promised. You said you’d be here and you weren’t.” Taras voice broke as she looked up at Sam. Tears were already falling from Tara’s eyes before Sam could even understand what her baby sister was talking about.

“You said we would watch movies and have popcorn. You lied” The hurt in Taras eyes was enough to cause Sam to sober up enough to at least communicate.

Sam got down on her knees to better look Tara in the eyes.

“Im so sorry. It’s just complicated Tara.” Sam said trying to sooth her little sister.

But Tara just pushed out of her grip. The hurt in her eyes dissolved into betrayed.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Tara asked causing Sam to rub them and look away.

“Nothing their fine. It’s not a big deal, now can we please move on?” Sam’s tone was unnatural and out of place. She couldn’t quite grasp the situation at hand and was perpetually digging herself further into a whole she started 9 months ago.

Tara walked over and grabbed her book bag by the front door.

“Your right Sam it’s not a big deal. Im gonna walk with the twins today.” Tara said and walked out the door.

Sam could feel her heart shatter into a million pieces but nothing came of it. The drugs she took stopped the pain from reaching anywhere inside of her. She was numb but not in the ways like before. Funny enough she wanted to feel it this time. She needed it to. Maybe if she could have she wouldn’t have walked down this path.

“And you said you’d never hurt her” said the devil up the stairs.

Her mother had sent the last nail for Sam’s coffin because she was right. Sam hurt Tara and she couldn’t even care. She’s been hurting Tara without even noticing. She’s going to keep hurting Tara. She’s been predestined to destroy everything around her and theirs no stopping it now. So Sam pulled that small little baggie out of her pocket. The last whispers from the angle on her shoulder were screaming to stop. But she didn’t. She took another pill from the bag and popped it into her mouth and headed for the front door.

“Where the hell do you think you're going Samantha? There was another murder last night and I cannot let you leave in good conscience.” Christina said trying to get under Sam’s skin.

But Sam just turned back to her mother. Nothing in her eyes.

Christina grew irritated at how unbothered Sam was towards her.

“If you leave I'll call the cops. Don’t think I won’t Samantha.” She spewed losing her temper quicker than shed like.

“Call them then. See what I care” Sam said slamming the front door behind her and walking down the driveway.

“You come back here right now. Don’t you dare leave me Samantha. Come back. I swear to God don’t leave me.” Her mother yelled as she walked onto the grass of their home.

Christina only wanted a play toy that would never leave. She wanted someone to abuse and project onto but would forgive her. That would bend and break to all her empty threats. She loved her toxic game of pushing and pulling. So when her father not father left for real Christina needed a new object to break.

Tara was too weak and fragile she told herself but deep down she knew Sam was always going to protect her. It made her sick with jealousy. So when she pushed Samantha for the first time and saw a glimpse of those eyes she loved so many years ago, she relished in having a toy that didn’t easily break.

“Your just like him. You're evil. You hear me Samantha, you’ve got the devil in your blood.” She was hysterical at this point. She knows she didn’t lose this time. Christina just didn’t think her new toy would stop playing the game.

So no matter what her mother yelled from their yard, Sam just kept walking, letting the drugs take over her mind. She wasn’t mad, or sad, or scared. She wasn’t anything. She was completely empty.

Sam then had one singular thought that changed the next 10 years of her life.

Maybe if she could just stay empty, she wouldn’t be able to destroy the life around her.

#I really hope this is good. I’m so nervous about it but hey I love it so ya🙃#oh and sorry for sadness #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #scream #fuck christina carpenter #samantha carpenter #kirby reed

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samwpmarleau · 3 months

Text

fic: clippers

aka 1,500 words of me continuing to not accept bucky’s tfatws hair

Dr. Raynor had recommended it, though Bucky suspects she wasn’t the only person involved. These days, there’s a whole pack of people with say-so over his life, getting their jollies by hanging freedom over his head. She said it might help with people’s perception of him if he looked less like he did as an assassin. If he looked more like the young war hero who fought Nazis.

(Saving the universe counts for nothing, does it? he’d wanted to say but didn’t.)

It had irked him, the suggestion. Perhaps because it wasn’t really a suggestion. Raynor had thought he was resisting just to be contrary. He hadn’t had an issue with dressing like a twenty-first century civilian, after all, nor concealing his metal arm beneath jackets and gloves, so what’s the problem, James?

(That’s different, he’d wanted to say but didn’t. That’s so I don’t frighten anyone. So I don’t get stared at and invite questions people don’t want the answers to.)

All right, maybe part of him was just being contrary, because he’s already at his wits’ fucking end with how many conditions and surrendering of liberties this goddamn pardon has. But as he stands at the mirror, sharpened scissors in hand, it is not contrariness that makes him hesitate.

Nor is it the unfamiliarity of cutting his own hair, for he’s done that many times before, both before the war and since. He’s even got a picture to reference of some duck-lipped model showing off what Bucky can only describe as Generic Modern Man Haircut. He’d be Just Some Guy walking down the street with it, which is exactly what the government wants.

So, he does it both because he must and because any reason he can think of to not do it sounds pathetic, and although it’s not the fresh sort of cut he’d get from a proper barber, it’s serviceable. A few strategic passes of gel to disguise any unevenness and he’d be good to go.

(He’d tried that once, in Romania, having a professional touch up the ends, had even managed to tamp down his discomfort through the shampooing and smalltalk. The minute the man brandished the scissors and approached Bucky’s head with them, however, it was all he could do to not take those scissors and stab the man in the carotid out of pure reflex. He’d made it to the alleyway outside before expelling the street mici he’d had only an hour earlier, overcome by how easy the murder would have been. How natural. How he could have eliminated the entire shop of innocents before anyone knew what hit them. Erase the security tape, if there was one, and slip back into the ghost he was for seventy years. He’d returned in the dead of night to leave an envelope with a note of apology and a wad of lei and, needless to say, from then on the only blades that touched his hair were his own.)

He doesn’t recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror, once all is said and done. Which is a bit ludicrous; it’s a haircut, not plastic surgery, and for most of his conscious life he’d had short hair. This shouldn’t be any different. Yet, still he stands there in the bathroom with scissors in his hand and a sink full of brunette strands, for far longer than is reasonable.

He sucks it up, eventually, adjusts to the new length — or lack thereof. In fairness, some of it is easier. Showers are shorter, his hair tie budget is nonexistent, the drain clogs with less frequency, and he doesn’t look quite so much like a drowned rat when it rains.

Dr. Raynor is pleased when he shows up. She says it suits him, that it makes him look normal, that folks will have a harder time recognizing him as the Winter Soldier.

(They already don’t recognize me, he wants to say but doesn’t. I could be standing in front of a newscast about myself and no one would notice. I spent the better part of a century in the shadows — you think I don’t know how to hide?)

“James,” she says in that self-righteous way she does so well, “this is progress.”

She must be right, for she’s got that fancy, framed degree up on her wall that says she’s right, and there’s the goddamn pardon thing that means he cannot step one foot over the line no matter how ridiculous that line is. He utters a thank-you to her, white-knuckles his way through the session, and continues trying to cobble together a life.

Sam brings it up one day, after Walker, the Flag Smashers, and Bucky’s tentative integration into the Wilsons’ orbit. “Meant to say, looks good, man.”

It’s an innocuous statement, really. Well, it should be. Sam regards him a little too long, a little too probingly, for Bucky to believe that it is, in fact, innocuous. Sam’s gauging his reaction is what he’s doing, so Bucky denies a reaction that permits any gauging at all. The slight frown that appears between Sam’s brows tells him he succeeded.

Sam keeps up the ruse nonetheless, following it up with a playful insult as to Bucky’s cutting skills. He texts him the address of someone who is, allegedly, the best barber in Louisiana, tells him he made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. Bucky goes. It’s not like he’s got anything better to do these days.

He’s the only white guy in the place, which elicits both stares from the other patrons and a hearty laugh from the barber resetting his station. “Sergeant Barnes?”

“How’d you guess?” Bucky deadpans, earning himself another laugh.

He’s gotten better at controlling his fears, his impulses, so the barber’s array of scissors and razors does not send him straight into the alleyway like it did years ago. The soul food from around the corner stays firmly in his stomach. The barber himself — Marcus — is jovial, considerate, and does his best to counter the uneasiness Bucky knows must be rolling off him in waves. Some good-natured shit-talking to cap things off.

Despite it all, when Marcus asks, “Just maintenance, sarge? Or you lookin’ for something new?” Bucky pauses.

And pauses some more, prompting Marcus to ask again, “Mr. Barnes?”

“Sorry,” Bucky says, realizing he’s a few more seconds of silence away from making Marcus genuinely concerned. “I just, uh …”

“I got a few suggestions, if you need,” Marcus offers. “Bit of fade on the sides, or —”

“No,” Bucky blurts out.

Marcus holds his hands up. “All right, no fade then.”

“That’s not — I didn’t mean —” Bucky takes a deep breath through his nose, exhales through his mouth. “I’m not trying to be rude, it’s …”

Bucky looks in the mirror again. Takes in the same face he’s seen for the past seven months, ever since Dr. Raynor gave him the suggestion-that-wasn’t-a-suggestion. He trusts in Marcus’s talents, that even Sam would find it worthy of a compliment.

(He can’t say he’d turn down a compliment from Sarah either, flirting ban be damned. It’d be Sam’s own fault, anyway.)

“I’m growing it out,” Bucky declares, as much to himself as to Marcus.

“Okay, cool. I can see it.” Then Marcus adds, almost pleads, “I gotta at least clean it up. No disrespect, but did you use a hacksaw?”

Bucky lets his mind drift as Marcus’s twang launches into another story. Half an hour later, he comes away with a list of must-watches and must-eats, plus a full pamphlet on how to not fuck up Marcus’s handiwork. After a generous tip and firm handshake, Bucky emerges from the shop feeling … not strange, exactly, but something.

The unspoken change, once it’s noticed in the months afterwards, garners him a variety of responses from the Wilson clan. When Bucky’s birthday rolls around, Sam and the giggling boys go in on a smorgasbord of scrunchies and clips that Bucky’s fairly certain were designed for a six-year-old girl. More seriously, a tin of pomade that Bucky knows is damn expensive.

For Sarah’s part, several hours later, the pain-pleasure of her knotting her fingers in his hair as she gasps out his name like a prayer is, he thinks, a resounding endorsement.

(Dr. Raynor would — possibly literally — smack him in the face with disappointment if she saw. Walker’d taken care of that, though, of her say-so having any bearing on his choices. Not that Bucky plans on sending the man a thank-you note or anything.)

As it nears his shoulders, Bucky supposes it does make him resemble the Winter Soldier. More than the bright-eyed draftee who gave his life for god and country, anyway, or the subject of the post-Snap government’s rebranding campaign.

Except, in his reflection he also sees the fugitive who’d been coaxed by his elderly neighbor into Sunday dinners of enough sarmale and mămăligă and papanași to give even his metabolism a run for its money. The man who’d been gifted new life, goats, and an affectionate nickname by Wakandans who never once looked at him with fear. The reluctant soldier who stood side-by-side with a talking raccoon and Asgardian god against an alien onslaught.

And maybe it’s silly to put so much stock in something as simple as hair. Maybe Bucky’s value system is in worse shape than his ability to tell fact from fiction when he wakes from a dream (a memory?).

But when he stares into the mirror with the Louisiana heat sticking hair and clothes alike to his skin, a house full of scampering feet, bickering, and hot breakfast just outside the door, it is not the Winter Soldier or James Barnes The Upstanding Member of Society that he sees. He sees himself. Just himself.

“You good, Buck?” Sarah asks when he comes downstairs, worry in her eyes. “You were in there awhile.”

“Yeah,” he wants to say — and does, because he can, because it’s the truth. A smile creeps onto his face. “I’m good.”

#idk man i saw some tweets about how bucky is seemingly going back to the long hair for thunderbolts and went oh???#anyway. there's a bit of #bucky x sarah #because i couldn't help myself but most of this is gen if that matters #also feat. bucky's awful therapist #bucky barnes #christina raynor #sam wilson #sarah wilson #marvel fic #my fic

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