Sam and Cat

Chapter One: Rebirth

I was born...scarred. Pamela Puckett tightly clenched her eyes shut as she gave one final push. The hot, burning beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and neck, forcing her to release one final sigh of relief. His body covered in mint green scrubs, rubber gloves, a hairnet, and a surgical mask, the male nurse picked up the child and carefully lifted her up into his arms. "Do you want to cut the ambilical cord?" Taking the surgical scissors, Daniel Puckett carefully but quickly snipped the cord, disconnecting the newborn from her mother. "One more coming...Push." Screaming out one last time, Pamela felt the newest member of her family come into the world.

"Whatter their names?" asked the nurse.

"Samantha and Melanie," Pamela answered, her red, sweat-stained face easing into a relaxed, exasperated smile. The calmed infants closed their eyes as their mother held them in her arms. The pain was over. Seeing that there was nothing more left for him, a man in a black suit abruptly departed from the room, not looking back as he made his way down the hall, slowly vanishing from sight.

As the night fell, the firstborn of the twins began to kick and scream, her innocent little face washed over with a blood-red hue. A scream sounded through the entire level of the hospital, footsteps pounded on the cold tiles, lights flickered, and actions took place; faster than could be seen. "We have to take her...we have to take her!"

"No! No, she's mine!" Pamela cried out, desperately clinging to Samantha as the doctors struggled to pull her away.

"Sedate her! We don't have a choice anymore!" a young woman doctor ordered, watching a middle-aged man administer the shot into Pamela's arm, then taking Melanie into his own hands.

"We have to act fast; we're losing her," the doctor cried out. The door to the Puckett family's room tore open, making way for Daniel to storm in. Two larger, lightly muscular men met the husband, and blocked him with all their might.

Gently pressing the mask over the baby's face, the nurses watched Sam fade into slumber. Removing her blanket and pajamas, the women saw the scar covering the infant's heart; there was no way it could have escaped the doctor's sight. "Her heart rate's slowing." The incision was made, the heart was treated and coated in a green fluid, and the skin was sown shut.

It took time; a long time for the fluid to spread to the rest of my bloodstream... While Pamela pushed her baby girls in their stroller, she heard Samantha's cry, and looked down to see her blankets stained with blood. Years passed, and Melanie cried, begging her mother to come into the room. Once the girls' mom arrived, she saw Sam cradling herself in the corner of the room, blood splattered along the curve of the wall and coating the child's arms. Turning around, the girl's tear-stained eyes gave way to thick drops of her own fear and suffering. Her anger boiling in her blood, the ignition of rage coursed throughout Sam's body, and she thrust her fist into the locker, denting it and staining it with a large splash of blood. Carly Shay held her closest friend in her arms as she cried.

By the start of my freshman year of high school, the fluid had spread, I stopped bleeding, and I started getting stronger. Sam lay down on the couch in the living room of her family's shabby apartment. Melanie was in the twin's bedroom, finishing homework, and Pamela, the now-single mother of two was in her bedroom, sleeping off her alcohol-induced high. I haven't seen my dad...They said he was there when Melanie and I were born, but that's it. His name was Daniel. I don't want to meet him; I'm done with him.

I still remember the first night Pam beat me; I hadn't had a bleeding fit for about four months, and she had just taken up drinking when she was convinced I could care for myself. I fell to the ground, shielding my face with my arms while my legs folded up near my chest. I was so afraid; I swore I would never be that afraid of a person ever again. Wiping her bloodied, puffy, weak eyes, Sam felt the warmth of the sunrise shine in through her bedroom window; she had been awake all night, not daring to open her eyes until the suffering ended.

I loved Freddie Benson. At first, I let myself think it wasn't obvious, but everyone knew. Finally, I stopped lying to myself, and told Carly everything; the "love" I thought I had was like intoxication. I loved the idea of loving him, but I learned over the course of about two years that I hated Freddie Benson. My happy image was nearly shattered, but I kept it alive by avoiding all contact with him, and letting my imagination fill in the rest. I wrote stories and poems on my blog; all lies. All things I wished were true. Of course, people followed since I was Sam from iCarly. They acted like they supported me, loved me, and wanted what was "best for me". At first, I liked it, but then I soon came to hate them all; they wanted their fantasies, their wishes to be fulfilled. I was being turned into that thing I made out of my initial feelings for Freddie. But it was such a beautiful image; such a heavenly, drunken idea to live in. So, I kept writing. He was my first time; my first kiss, my first boyfriend, and the one who took my virginity. Outside the screen in front of me, though, it was all a lie. I never had a relationship, no one ever wanted to or tried to kiss me, and I was somewhere between a virgin by choice and a virgin at the mercy of those around me. As time went on, though, I became proud of my virginity, and came to resent those around me who had lost or were willing to give up that purity. To lose my virginity was give a part of myself away; just so the other person could walk away with it and leave me empty and alone, blaming myself. There's no punishment for those who hurt others in the name of "love". It's an excuse people make to hurt me without consequence. How dare anyone try to convince me otherwise? Sam Puckett was meant to be alone.

Although I'd never tell her (not that I needed to), Carly Shay was my only friend. I didn't want it to be that way, but we cared about each other, and she was the only one who tolerated and accepted me as a human being. We didn't settle for each other; we didn't make ourselves loners or exclusive. She was just the only one who didn't hate me.

The world is beautiful in a wonderful and terrible way. I used to dream I was standing on a balcony of a house I didn't know, gazing at a scarlet, orange, and yellow sunset that dyed the entire sky with its beautiful hue. Directly on the horizon, as soon as the sunset ended, a sea of red and yellow lava collided with the sky, and covered all of the ground. I was so close, but it didn't burn or hurt. I had all my truths tucked away in a place where they couldn't get to me, and I had all my lies and fantasies strung up somewhere around my head; like a tiara or a crown. I knew I was betraying everyone and everything that lived around me, but it was easier this way. Finally, it was all so beautiful I kept writing. I could never let the moment or the feelings go, even if they were never truly there to begin with.

Senior year; graduation; Carly's leaving. I saw her passionately kiss Freddie just before the ceremony. Melanie was already long gone; living in a place where nothing in the outside world had to exist. I was about to lose everything; I was the least spectacular of all the students there, I was leaving Ridgeway, which was a second (and really, only) home for me, and I was going to lose my best friend. She knew I wouldn't call her or write; she knew I would keep the happy memories and press them into a book. Although it hurt, I had to let her leave my life. Then, one day, Spencer opened the door for his father, and he and Carly walked away, bound for a new life in Italy. Spencer never left. Neither did Freddie. After that night, though, I never came back.

It's been so long since I've published anything. The fact that iCarly was over put me into the position of a renegade superhero; everyone wanted me, wanted me to start a new life from what was left; take a new direction and start all over. But I can't start over; all the things I've learned and all the scars I've felt...I can't let that go. It's the only way I can keep my life together. I could never be a child again. I could never let the memories heal or fade, no matter how much I wanted to.

I saw what I would have to become to keep publishing, and I just couldn't live that way anymore. It took me a long time to figure out, but I found a better way to live; You experience things, and then they're over. That's how it had to be. I had to let go of the lies, the fantasies. I had to keep the truth and the past away from me, but close enough so I would never forget.

I let my hair grow longer, letting the curls disappear to make way for brighter, softer locks. I let myself wear makeup and wear pink. I let myself turn into something that was always there inside of me, but hated enough to be left out. Now, I'm something the world never imagined or wanted me to be. I live my life, forsaking one day for the next. I didn't learn anything new; I didn't hold a sensation, no matter how much I needed it or loved it. I experience things, and then they're over. I didn't go online anymore. I didn't blog, answer e-mails, or even bother to do anything that involved myself or iCarly. Freddie and Spencer never call or write; Spencer chose not to because he knew it was what I wanted, and I think Freddie made his decision out of indifference that may have hurt me when I was acting out and punishing myself to get attention and sympathy from those around me.

I got rid of the motorcycle Spencer and I built from classic parts, bought a black one that held within it no memories, said goodbye to Carly one last time, drove out onto the streets of Seattle, waited for the light to turn green, and never came back.