Ch. 13

Okay, I'm in such an OCD mood right now that I'm literally updating my stories in numerical order by number of followers, because for some strange reason it bothered the hell out of me today to look at my dashboard page and see all the numbers out of order. Weird I know, lmao. Please tell me someone out there has similar situations every now and then... haha

So.. after helping Becky with her last update.. I've decided that co-writing something is actually pretty fun. If anyone would want to be a co-author with me on a story, let me know. We could all just alternate turns with the updates, so it would be pretty stress free. *WRITERS WANTED* Kristina, Aeryn, Becky, Lauren, Jay, Zigh, Heather... hope you all see this! If we could get 7 of us, we could update nightly. That would be so effing awesome. Okay, I'm gonna stop blabbing..if you want to do it leave it in a comment or email me or something. :-)

Sam's POV

It has been 4 months since the day that Marc was waiting for me in the parking lot, and we had been seeing each other regularly since then. I got use to the older women calling me a gold digging whore just for the simple fact that I was nearly 10 years younger than him, but none of that seemed to phase me anymore. There was just something about him that I couldn't exactly place, but then again I never really tried to. I was drawn to him, and I didn't see the need in trying to figure out why. He was one of the most caring, polite, and sexiest men I'd ever saw or came into contact with, so there is no wonder I fell for him.


With that said, I did still question things. Precisely why he wanted me. Women in town much more his age faun over his breath taking smile and cute accent all the time, I've seen it often, but yet I've never once had any indication or reason to think that he was using me or better yet even cheating on me. He always seemed to come home to me, and one better, he seemed to be happy and pleased that I was there waiting for him. He never raised his voice at me, but he didn't treat me like I was 15 either. I think it's that perfect combination of being stern, but respectful at the same time that made me fall for him. And yes, somewhere over the past few months, I had fallen; and hard. As much as it scared the hell out of me to even think about it, I knew that I loved him. He'd never said those three meaningful words to me, and I'd never said them to him, but his eyes could tell me everything and I saw that feeling on more than one occasion and I had to believe that he saw the same in mine. For us, that was enough.


But after the season came to an unexpected end when the Flyers beat us in the second round, things quickly changed. The boys got eliminated five days ago, and Marc blames himself. He's not cold to me, but he's in a rough place right now.


This I can understand.


I grew up around Sid, and he blames his self for things going bad more than any other person I know. For him, me just consoling him as we sat together in silence was always enough. It always seemed to get better like that. Even though we were young then, I had tried that technique on Marc, and it did no good. He hardly slept, which is why he decided to go home for a little while, and I didn't object once. I knew that when his mind was cleared, he'd be back. Until then, I owed it to him to wait patiently.


Wondering if I couldn't at least help Marc through this, I headed over to Sid's to see if I could at least comfort him.

Sid's POV

I'm sitting on the couch with my back facing the door when I hear it open. I'm busy watching tape of the last game, seeing what all I did wrong so I don't bother to look at see who it is. I don't need to anyways.. I know who it is. I figured she'd be showing up sometime soon anyways. I haven't seen a whole lot of her here lately, just when she's stopped by the get clothing and stuff. This is going to sound cruel, but I still find it slightly satisfying that she keeps her stuff here and not at Marc's. She drops a bag on my lap that I recognize right away before she disappears into the kitchen, sticking her head in the refrigerator and coming out with a bottle of ranch dressing before coming back into the living room and plopping down next to me on the couch, propping her feet up next to mine on the coffee table.

"Buffalo Wild Wings?" I ask, pointing to the bag of food that is still sitting in my lap.

"Yes," she replies simply while grabbing for the bag and popping open a very large container of boneless wings.

"You know I can't eat this," I say while shaking my head at her as she squeezes ranch on one and pops it into her mouth. Of course she knows I can't eat this.. it's in the strict diet I follow and she always has been the person that has given me the most crap about that. She eats anything she wants and her body looks fine.. I do that and I get bigger boobs than most ladies.

"It's not in the diet, I know," she responds while grabbing another wing from the container. "But it's the off season now anyways and this is heart-break food and it's a container of 50.. So eat," she says while shoving them my way and passing me the bottle of ranch. I do as told, and automatically feel a little bit relieved.

Sam's POV

We sit in silence as we watch the game, but adding our two sense when we think someone should have done something differently. After watching the game at least 3 times and all of the food is gone, I decide I'm getting tired and make my way up to my room and almost automatically falling asleep after my head hits the pillow.

I run as fast as I can down the hallway and then down the stairs, but I know that my little, short legs are no match for his, but I know it's my best option. He out weighs me by a large majority, and I know that if I had to fend myself from him, it would just come up with him dominating me. One thing I've always been proud about myself is my ability to think quickly under stress or pressure, so I swing my legs over the stairs and jump to the floor below me when I hear him come raging out of the bedroom. I don't know why he's acting like this. Even when he has been drunk before, he's never hit me. Feeling the burn on my left cheek now that is surly red from contact from his fist, I've never been more scared in my life.

I hit the floor below me awkwardly, and I feel my ankle give out, but I'm still running like hell for the basement. If I can get there and lock that door, there is no way that he'd be able to get to me since that is the only door that leads down there and there aren't any windows. After I get the door closed, I hear him pounding on it which has me stepping away as quickly as possible as shock over takes me. I stand there for a minute, not really believing this is happening to me. When I finally snap out of the trance, I reach for me cell phone, and panic when I can't find it. It's then that I remember it falling out of my pocket during my jump from about 25 or so steps.

I'm running my fingers through my hair anxiously, not knowing what to do now when I hear the door whip open. I turn around to see him lurking down the stairs next to me, an evil smile on his face as he walks toward me slowly. I look around for something to use as a source of defense, but I'm too late. He grabs me in his arms, and no matter how hard I try to fight against him he easily positions me underneath him as he starts to violently remove my clothes.

I wake up with a jump, screaming instinctively before jumping out of my bed. I sprint out the door, and am relieved when I see Sid jogging up the stairs, concern written on his face. I hide my head in his chest as his arms wrap around me, the first tears leaking from my eyes.