A/N This is the first bit written and posted on my new laptop (squeals) ^_^. Bahbah bah bah bah, I'm lovin' it. Sorry, random moment of commercialism there (whoa, what is up with the 25cent word?). Anywho, sorry I haven't posted in a few days. Eveyone here's been really sick, including your beloved author. I'm still sick, but with my laptop (random squealing continues), I should be able to update fairly often on my regular stories. This is based on the video to the Offsprings "Kristy are you doing OK?" If you haven't seen or heard it, I insist you do.

"Students," Principal Franklin's voice boomed over the loudspeaker. "I am very sad to report that Samantha Puckett committed suicide over this past weekend." His voice cracked as he spoke.

I looked at her empty seat next to me. I heard a few girls in the class let out a loud sob. Silently, I sobbed to myself. All I could think about lately was her. How could she be gone?

FLASHBACK

I stood in the hallway, watching the front door. I knew her mom would be dropping her off any minute now. I watched as the truck pulled up to the door. I watched her jump out of her mom's rusty old truck. The driver wasn't her mom, though. It was some guy I didn't recognize. He was yelling something at her and I could see that she was crying to herself.

She walked into the school. She was wearing her usual, a long thermal shirt underneath a tee shirt. She saw me staring at her and tucked her arms deep inside her shirt, leaving only her hands visible. I looked at her face and noticed a small cut above her lip.

Part of me wanted to go up to her and ask if she was OK. The other part of me wanted to run away screaming. Instead, I stayed rooted to the spot, watching her.

She walked over to her locker. Her friends joined her as she put on some dark lip gloss to cover her cut. No one seemed to notice the cut. She looked over at me again. Her lips were smiling, but I could see in her eyes, just how sad she really was.

Her friends walked off as the bell rang for class. Everyone ran to their own classes, leaving me behind with her.

Now I wonder, why didn't I talk to her? What held me away from her? All I could do was run, run away from her, run to class, to normalcy.

She walked into the classroom shortly after the tardy bell rang. I looked up at her with a sad look. I watched her as she came over to her seat next to me. She pulled her shirt over her arms again when she noticed me.

She sat there in class, tears slowly dripping down her cheeks. I watched as the tears fell from her cheeks to the paper on her desk. The paper was blank, besides the few tear spots. Instead, she wrote in a notebook.

I glanced at her notebook. Inside was a drawing of a little girl in the corner, crying. I wanted so much in that moment to tell her everything would be okay, but my words caught in my throat.

The bell rang when class was over and she ran out. I ran after her and grabbed her by the arm in the hallway.

"Let go of me, Freddie," she shrieked, pulling out of my grasp. I saw her wrists and all I could do was stand there. She ran away.

"Sam," I said softly to myself. "What are you doing?"

The cuts on each wrist looked fairly recent. They were vertical and, from what I could see, they were very deep. I stood there in the middle of the hall with the vision of her wrists fresh in my mind. Students flooded out of their classrooms and soon I was not alone in the hallway.

I walked to my locker, not looking at anyone. I looked back to her locker. She was standing there along with her friends. They all were laughing and smiling, but I could see through her charade. I knew she wasn't happy. I knew how badly she needed someone.

She looked over at me and frowned. She knew I had seen her wrists. She knew I had seen the cuts. She left her friends and started heading towards the gym.

I followed behind her, not knowing why. She slipped into the girl's locker room and I followed her in. I stood behind a wall and watched her as she looked around before pulling off her thermal shirt and tee. I lightly gasped in shock.

There, dark on her flesh, was a large bruise. She rubbed the bruise gently, crying out in pain. I let out a sympathetic sob.

She looked up suddenly. "Who's there?"

I ran off, just as quietly as I had entered. I knew that I was going to be late for class, but I didn't care. All I could think about was her. She was so beautiful. Who would ever do such a thing to her? All of a sudden, I felt rage. Whoever did this to her would pay dearly.

I grabbed my books from my locker. I spotted something on the ledge to my locker. It was a note. I opened the tiny folded paper. Immediately, I recognized her handwriting. It said:

"Freddie,

I know I've been distant from you guys lately. I really need to talk to you, now, though. Please meet me at the bleachers tonight after school. Please.

Sam"

I read and reread her note. She seemed so desperate for someone. So, why was part of me saying don't go? Of course, I never did meet her that day or any day soon afterwards. I did look up at the bleachers as I walked off. She was sitting at the very top, drawing in her journal again. I smiled at how beautiful she was. She looked up as if she knew I was watching. I hid behind a pillar and ran away.

I stopped watching her after that. I couldn't stand to think about how she was being hurt. Eventually, my thoughts for her were gone again.

Parts of me missed her. Missed watching as she bounded into the school. Missed her trying to hide what was so blatantly obvious. Most of all, I missed her drawings. I missed watching her as she drew her scared little girl in the corner. I know that such a thing was what she was going through. So why couldn't I be there for her?

One day, I was grabbing my books from my locker before class. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another tiny folded note. I unfolded it carefully, knowing it was her handiwork. The page was smeared with teardrops. I could barely read the ink.

"Freddie,

I under stand why you didn't meet me before. Please, though, I need you now more than ever. Please just come for me. You know where and when. Please.

With as much love as I have,

Sam."

This time I knew I'd be meeting her. I knew I would be there for her, even momentarily. I read the note a second time. She needed me and part of me knew that I needed her. I held the note close to my chest and set it down gently in my locker.

The bell rang and I turned around. I saw her standing in the middle of the hallway. She had a slight smile on her face, although her eyes still dripped tears. She watched me intently. I looked back at her and met her stare. I felt my own eyes water to see her eyes watering.

A few of her friends came over and pulled her to class, away from me. I sighed and grabbed the books I had forgotten. I ran off to class, looking forward to seeing her again today.

After school let out, I threw my books in the locker and ran outside. I jogged to the nearby park and found "our" spot. We came across it when we were really little and declared it "our" spot. I knew this was where she meant.

Sure enough, 5 minutes later, she rounded the bend to reach the tree. I stood up and hugged her with all my might, lifting her off the ground. After a few seconds, I lowered her gently to the ground, keeping one hand on hers.

"Freddie," she started in a small voice. "Please, don't hate me."

I looked at her in the eyes. She was already starting to tear up. I wiped away the few tears on her cheeks. "Sam, I don't hate you. I never could."

She looked up into my eyes. "But, look at this," she said, exposing her wrists. I winced when I saw the cuts again. These appeared newer than the other ones had been. I grabbed her hands and took a deep breath. I knew that she might kill me for doing this, but I needed to do it right now. I pulled one of her wrists up to my lips and laid the gentlest of kisses on it.

She gasped to the pain of the move, but didn't complain. I took her other wrist and did the same, with the same reaction. I looked back up at her. "Sam, you're perfect to me."

She began to sob, collapsing in my arms. I didn't know what to do, besides hold her against me. "I've waited so long for someone to say that to me," she said through her tears.

I pulled up her shirt to see her bruises still there, darker even, against her pale flesh. She winced as I leaned down to kiss each bruise. With each bruise, she winced and gasped, but she never stopped me.

I stood up and held her tightly against my chest as she cried. "He did this to me. My mom's good for nothing boyfriend. He has this belt he uses on both me and her. Why, Freddie, why does he hurt us?"

"I don't know, Sam. I just don't know." I felt the tears squeezing through my own eyes.

She looked up at me. "Freddie, thank you for being here. I don't know what I would have done without you."

I stared into her deep blue eyes and pulled her in again. I knew that I didn't want to let go of her this time. I had lost her once, but not this time I would do whatever I could to have her with me.

We parted and sat down at the base of the tree. She held onto my hand ferociously. I had my other hand against her cheek, wiping away the occasional tear. We sat there together like this for a few hours, neither one of us saying much. Neither one of us needing to.

The dark ascended on our tree. I looked at my watch. "Sam," I whispered.

"Huh?" she said, sitting up.

"It's time to go. It's after 9 already."

Her eyes widened. "Freddie, please, don't make me go back there. Just let us stay here until tomorrow morning."

"Sam, I can't. You know my mom. She will worry."

She started to cry again. I wiped away the tears on her cheeks. "Freddie, I want to tell you something. I couldn't tell you before, but if I don't now it could be too late."

I pulled back from her. "What is it, Sam?" I asked.

"Freddie, I think I love you."

I pulled her in against me. I knew I should've told her the same thing, but I couldn't. It wasn't that I didn't love her. I did. I loved her more than I could ever express in a simple sentence. I never did tell her that.

"Sam, just stay strong, OK? I'll be here for you." She looked up at me and our lips met. Just a chaste, brief touch. My eyes closed at the feel of her lips against mine. All too soon, she pulled back.

"OK, Freddie, I'll stay strong. I can go on through all this." She was starting to sob again. "Just don't leave me again, please."

"I promise, Sam."

She grabbed my hand and we started to walk towards the entrance to the park. Our spot was a long distance away, but with her beside me, the walk ended all too soon. I knew she had to turn right to go home, while I lived to the left.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I don't want him to see you. Go home, I'll text you later."

I nodded and pulled her in for another kiss. She smiled against my lips before pulling back again. "Sam, are you doing okay?"

She smiled at me and nodded before walking off. That was the last time that I saw her alive. I watched her blonde hair float behind her as she walked and I felt the tears stinging in my eyes again. She disappeared into a side street and I walked off towards my own home.

I walked in, thankful that my mom hadn't started to worry about me yet. In fact, she was asleep on the couch. I snuck into my room and laid down on my bed. I couldn't get the thoughts of her out of my head. She made me feel so many ways. I felt sorry for her. I felt happy to hold her. I felt sad when she cried. Why couldn't I tell her that I loved her?

I lay there for a few hours before I started to worry about her. I grabbed my cell phone off of my nightstand. I sent her a quick text, "Sam, are you OK?"

After 5 minutes, she hadn't answered. I tried to text her again, the same message. Still, she didn't answer. I tried to call her. She never picked up the phone.

I decided that I should go check on her. I pulled my shoes on and snuck back out of the house. I ran down the stairs and to her home. Her mom's pickup wasn't in the driveway. I looked in through the front window and no one appeared to be home. I pounded on the door.

After a few minutes, no one answered. I tried the doorknob. Luckily, for me, the door wasn't locked. I looked around the first floor for her and saw no one.

I ran up the stairs to her bedroom. I hadn't been in there in years, but I still knew it well. I opened her door to no one. She wasn't here, but pages upon pages from her journal were. They were all taped up against the walls. Pictures of a razorblade dripping blood, a little girl, insistent circles which oftentimes ripped the paper. I touched against her drawings, feeling the tears behind my eyes again.

I stepped out of her room and closed the door. I peered into her mom's room but didn't see her. I walked towards the last room, the bathroom.

Something told me that she would be behind this door. I opened the door slowly. The first thing I saw was a razorblade sitting on the floor. Then I looked toward the bathtub. She was laying in the crimson water, her hair floating behind her. Her wrists were both laid out on either side of her, both of which had deep cuts on them. Laying in the water with her was her journal.

I starte to sob at this sight and ran over to her lifeless body. I pulled her up to me. I whispered into her hair, "Sam I love you too."

The next few hours were a blur of sirens and ambulances and news reporters. She was taken away on a gurney. They pulled a sheet over her body to hide her from view. The cops wanted to speak with me, but I wouldn't tell them more than how I found her. I sat there, clutching her journal to my chest.

That night, I crawled into my bed after my mom yelled at me for sneaking out. I opened Sam's journal. The last page that had any writing on it said "I'm sorry Freddie." I clutched her journal to me again and fell asleep.

END OF FLASHBACK

I held her journal in my backpack. It hasn't left my side since that night. I watched her seat during class, hoping by some miracle she'd bound in and fill it. I had no such luck.

That day, I went to our spot in the park. I pulled out her journal and wrote in it, "I'm sorry, Sam." I left the journal next to the tree that evening. Every night, I returned there and wrote the same thing.

One night, I came with something else. It was the razorblade she had used to kill herself. I wrote my message to her again. Then I brought the razorblade to my wrist. I gasped as it dug into my flesh. I pulled it up a couple of inches until I was bleeding rapidly. Then I did the same with my other wrist.

I pulled her journal to me and laid down on the ground, accepting the inevitable.

A/N Ok, that was really sad. I hope you guys liked it. I'm actually still sitting here bawling my eyes out and I knew what was coming. OK, it's time for me to go back to my other stories. Please review for this one, guys. It would make me a happy Pyra.