Hooooo mama, last chapter really ended on a downer, didn't it? Sorry for the hiatus. I was in the middle of my exam period by the time, the last chapter wrapped up and I've been on "OMG DON'T FAIL SCHOOL MODE" ever since. But now with normal school starting again, I can relax and write in between classes and stuff. Also, if you think the last chapter was heavy… this one ain't letting up much either.

So therefore, WARNING: Talk about rape, death and victim blaming. DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER EITHER IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY SUCH.

This isn't rated M for nothing, y'know?

Sammy didn't come for the next three days of school, nor did she ever come by my house.

Somehow, my intuition tells me that something is not right; it's echoed by a gut-wrenching feeling I get, whenever I look at her empty desk at school. Amy, on the other hand, is there and when she's not staring daggers at me or trash-talking me to her friends, I presume, she's unusually quiet. I guess it's because Sammy isn't here.

So, for the first half of the week, I'm left wondering if I should call her phone and with my heart in my throat, I head outside, to a private corner of the football field. In the distance, some of the jocks are busy playing or rather trying soccer. Football is the name of the game usually but thanks to some big tournament coming up, soccer is the new black. I shake my head and try to concentrate on my current objective.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar voice says at the other end. I try to decipher it until I realize that I have heard this voice before.

"Yes, this is Topher. I…I wanted to hear if Samm-Samantha is all right" I say with a trembling voice. I internally scold myself for not using my full name until I remember why I don't use it, to begin with.

"Oh…" the woman says before a low humming emerges from her. The humming soon turns into soft sobbing and I'm left feeling incredibly awkward. She stops sobbing and finishes with a big sigh. "She's in the hospital. I-I don't know if she wants to see anyone but you're welcome to visit her."

"Thank you, ma'am," I say as all senses, but an aching numbness leaves my body. Chills run down my spine and I almost let my phone slide out of my hand. First, the numbness and then the crushing guilt overtakes me. It makes my heart ache. Sammy, she was fine when we saw each other last time. Perhaps it's nothing less than a dislocated shoulder but somehow, I can't help but to feel that it's not that simple. No, something feels horrible.

Upon setting foot in the hospital, I come to remember how much I hate the smell here. That thick, constant, synthetic stench badly masking the smell of death; just enough to make itself apparent, that people died here. People go to die here.

People failed to die so they go here.

I go to the reception and quickly ask for Sammy and the nurse directs me to the second floor. To make this a quick ride, I take the elevator, a decision I regret somewhat as a nurse enters with a sickly man in a wheelchair. The nurse speaks kind words to him, that I can't be bothered to remember but the man looks at me instead. His eyes keep staring at me, pleading for something. A kind soul to tell him it's not the end yet. That everything will be all right.

I can't.

I want to hurl.

I take a deep inhale of the flowers that I carry with me, just to keep myself somewhat sane.

On the hallway, I see three people; two of which I've met before. A middle-aged couple and a girl, who looks identical to Sammy except for the mole under her eye. I guess, correctly so that the man is the dad; I don't like the look on his face. It borders between nonchalant and bored as if he doesn't care. He sits stiffly in his chair, not bothering to confront his wife, who has buried her face in her hands. Amy, on the other hand, is busy on the phone and for one I'm glad, she hasn't noticed me.

With weary steps, I approach the family and introduces myself as Sammy's friend and classmate.

"Oh, you're that boy!" The woman tries to smile through endless streams of tears and runny mascara. Amy looks up and her eyes shoot lightning. Without saying a word, she gets up and approaches me. Her perfume cuts through the air like a hot knife and her hot breath tickles my ear as she whispers "Hope you like used, dirty socks" before storming off. No one says anything due to the tension filling the hallway but the mother nods at me with a meek smile and I guess it's my cue to enter the hospital room.

Pushing the door aside, I have a flashback of a few too many unpleasant memories that mirrors this moment too much. The dread and anticipation of having to visit a loved one to see how they are with tubes and machines hooked all over their body or a heart monitor.

Worst case would be the soulless stare they give you. I'd rather watch them sleep with an oxygen mask.

I am relieved to not see such a medieval torture device hooked into Sammy, but I do find her sitting on the bed with her knees under her chin. Her eyes are red and puffy, but what concerns me is the emptiness behind those teal hues. I grab a vase, fill it with water and put the flowers in it before heading to the bed and sitting down next to her. Her lack of reaction alarms me. I want to say something, anything! But my words are caught in my throat.

"You know, don't you?" she says in a whisper. Her voice is raspy.

"Not really but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I say and put an arm around her shoulder. She says nothing but instead leans into me and closes her eyes with the tears running down her cheeks. We sit there in silence with the occasional noise, such a sterile hellhole would allow. Suddenly loud voices emerge from the hallway, through the door.

"What in blazes are you talking about?!" Sammy's mother is hissing hysterically.

"You heard me; if she hadn't run around outside with strange men, she wouldn't be in this predicament. She only got herself to blame." Her father, on the other hand, says, sternly but controlled.

I look at Sammy and she looks at me. "Usual business," she says. Her mother snarls and shouts something back at him along the lines of "How dare you! You know she would never do such a thing! The police said it themselves! She was drugged! She fought for her life!"

I can't stand to hear it. I can't keep sitting here and listening to her father talk smack about her while she's right next door. So, I get up from the bed, ignoring the tucking at my sleeves. I know, Sammy wants me to stay put and wait until it blows over, but I can't. I give her hand a tight squeeze and go out of the room right into a verbal war with the father dropping a hurtful bomb.

"Did she really? If she was a proper, responsible young lady like her sister, she wouldn't have ended up like such a harlot." He scoffs.

The woman opens her mouth to say something but snaps it shut again with the streams of tears running down her cheeks. She looks as wounded as someone could possibly be. Utterly defeated.

"You know, I'm right. Stop cuddling her and get her home. I feel embarrassed to be here." He says with the tiniest of hints at pride over his conquest. And this is where I have enough.

"She's your daughter! How can you say something like that?" I jeer at him and he turns to me with the coldest look that makes my blood boil.

"Stay out of it, you brat."

"You… you disgusting…! It's people like you, that pushed her over the edge and caused her to almost kill herself!" I hear myself yell and cover my mouth. Everyone in the hallway stares at me wide-eyed and my ears turn hot. And it is at that moment, I realize that I've fucked up. Big time.

The father glares at me briefly before he grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me so close to his face, I can see the many wrinkles on his face and the graying strains on his sideburns. Milliseconds pass before a loud smack makes my whole head spin. Powerful stinging knocks in my cheek me of my feet and I fall to my knees, glaring at the man, who had the gall to slap a kid in public.

"You do not know my family, boy. But know this; if she was a useful child, she would have taken it on the chin and gotten over whatever petty feelings, she'd cry over." He flips his jacket and looks at me with murderous rage in his eyes. There's an uncomfortable silence in the hallway; it's so quiet you can hear a pin drop.

That is, until a body dressed in blue floats in between us. Through the welling tears in my eyes, I see strains of blonde come to my aid and then disappear again at the blink of an eye.

"Stop! Just.. stop." Sammy speaks softly.

"Sammy?"

"Please leave, Topher." She says and it shatters my heart. I stare at her in disbelief as I stand up. My cheek is aching but my heart hurts way more by the things she is about to say.

"He's right. I am a useless sack of wasted space that deserves all the bad shit." She says in such a manner that suggests she was forced to believe such things about herself. "You really have to go. But know that it's not your fault."

"But it's not yours either!"

"If he won't leave, then I will." The man flips his jacket before looking at his wife. "I'll be waiting in the car."

And with that, the man is gone. His abandoned wife falls to her knees and looks at Sammy with dead eyes "Please don't listen to him, honey. Geo-he didn't mean-"

"I know he meant it. But I'm not bothered by the fact he hates me so much. Mommy, you don't have to stay with him to make me happy. People like you, good people, have the right to be selfish, just once in a while" Sammy says nonchalantly. She tries to smile but it breaks and she hurries away into her room.

Defeated and ruined, I make my leave. I feel like I have been enlightened but on the other hand, it came at a great price. It is not before I'm about to enter the elevator that I realize that I'm in the psychiatric department.

On the way home, I sit in the back of the bus, freezing and lonely. The bus drives through the city, to the urban areas. On one of the stops, a bunch of people enters the bus and I seat myself to one of the sides so that I'm not stuck in the middle.

"Outward appearances suggest that you are depressed. Do you have any objections against me temporarily planting my physical form here?" a voice says to me and I look up to see a redhead green eyes hidden behind round glasses. I simply look at her because I have no fucking idea of what she just said. This seems to annoy her a bit so she sighs before rephrasing herself.

"Can I sit here?" she says, less enthusiastic.

"Sure," I say tiredly. Scarlet sits down quite stiffly. I never talk to Scarlet, even though we share math classes together. In fact, I never thought about her that much. I know she is too intelligent to still be in high school and this seems to alienate her from everyone except for a rich kid named Max. In all honesty, I only know her name and the fact that she is too smart for her own good. So, therefore, it's a surprise that she is talking to me right now. Maybe Max fucked off to oblivion.

Scarlet leans closer to me and I can see, she's curious to know my predicament. I likely have no right to tell anyone about any of this but if it can help Sammy and expose the evils of Amy, I guess it's a plus. I suppose one has to break some eggs in order to make an omelet. I just hope she can forgive me afterward. So I tell her everything; from the night where I met Sammy, to the trip to the mall, to the time misunderstanding of Amy dating me. Everything really.

"…And now she's in the hospital." I finish my tale. Scarlet blinks, seemingly taken it all in before she grabs my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"No need to tell me more. I am willing to put my high intelligence to the test and try and found out who did it."

"What?"

"After you suddenly eschewed today's lesson, the principal arrived at each class, talking to everyone about sexual assault and what to do if you're a victim. No one suspected Samey-"

"Sammy." I correctly and she looks at me with a stiff gaze.

"Right." She replies sharply before continuing. "No one suspected her being a victim as she never left much of a presence and people forget about the quiet, non-obnoxious but it is a little… coincidental that she ends up hospitalized right when our principal gives everyone a fair warning."

"You don't mean that she-"

"Do not fret, fratboy. In cases such as these, law enforcement is of little help," Scarlet interrupts and pushes her glasses to the bridge of her nose. There's a shift of tone in her voice; it's trembling and dark. Not with sadness but restrained anger. "Rarely, they take the side of the woman, so we must become vigilant and take justice in our own hands. Dangerous, perhaps even illegal. But what other choice do certain ones have if they ever want to be happy?"

My heart breaks as everything begins to make sense now. A hole grows in my stomach and I feel weak. Had I not been sitting down, I would have fallen to my knees.

"I want to help her but I don't know what to do."

"I commend your empathetic levels. I for one is unable to understand such notions and for that, and to satisfy my curiosity, I want to help as well."

"But why?"

"I seldom spoke to her but from what little our few interactions offered, I quickly discovered that I prefer her over her sister. Imperious as Amy is, I too was fooled. But I am a much wiser woman and I recognize certain patterns. Thusly I've answered your question as to why."

This whole day feels like the worst kind of rebound; being knocked over and over again and yet still coming back up, only to be knocked down again, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. I guess the only good thing that has come out of it, was Scarlet apparently seeing Amy's true colors and helping me. I kinda regret not talking to her more often.

Suddenly Scarlet looks around as if to make sure, no one is eavesdropping. Then she leans closer to me, so close in fact that I see the subtle shades of red in her orange hair and the faintest dust of freckles right underneath the frame of her glasses. By all account, Scarlet is much more prettier than she would have people believe. There's a twinkle in her eye as she speaks. "Because I have a theory, outrageous as it is."

Endnote: I like hospitals. They are quite important in our daily lives. Topher, on the other hand, does not, for reasons that will be explained when this mini-arc ends.