Chapter 28- Strike
A soft glow from the bedside lamp outlined Scarlett as she sat cross-legged on the plush rug, her laughter bubbling like champagne. Sam, snuggled into the crook of Scarlett's arm, shifted nervously.
"Don't you think you're a little too quiet tonight, St. Onge?" Scarlett brushed a strand of hair behind Sam's ear.
"I'm just... tired." Sam forced a smile, the weight of the situation pressing against her chest like a heavy blanket.
Scarlett frowned playfully, tightening her grip. "Nah, that won't do! You're the most adorable girlfriend ever; you need to live up to it." She leaned closer, a twinkle in her eye. "Since you've been such a good girl lately, how about a date?"
"A date?" Sam's heart raced, unsure if it was fear or the flicker of hope.
Scarlett raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "Yes! A date-date. Just us, like the cute couples in those cheesy rom-coms. Bowling, maybe?" Her voice bubbled with excitement.
Sam felt a smile tug at her lips, but it soured almost immediately. "Bowling? I'm not very good at that."
"Only makes it more fun," Scarlett chirped, her grin widening. "You'll be my lucky charm when I strike! Remember, it's about having fun, not winning."
"Right," Sam muttered, knowing full well that fun was an illusion in Scarlett's world. But maybe this would be a chance, scattered under the arcade lights and echoing laughter. Maybe she could figure out how to escape, or at least keep Scarlett distracted.
---
The bowling alley buzzed with energy, colored lights flashing overhead, creating a kaleidoscope of shadows on the polished floor. Sam fidgeted beside Scarlett, who bounced on her heels, scanning the available lanes.
"Pick one! Ooh, I like that one!" Scarlett pointed, and they made their way to the chosen lane, grabbing neon-colored shoes along the way.
When they reached their spot, Sam hesitated, watching couples giggle and cheer. Her hands trembled as she slipped on the shoes.
"Look at you! So cute," Scarlett teased, her voice lilting with incredulity, "Are you nervous?"
"No," Sam lied, her cheeks warming under Scarlett's gaze.
"Alright, let's start! Ladies first!" Scarlett pulled her into position, shoving the bowling ball into Sam's hands.
"Okay, just... breathe," Sam whispered to herself, surveying the lane. She took a deep breath, almost sensing Scarlett's eyes anticipating an epic failure.
Sam stepped forward, released the ball, and immediately watched it veer into the gutter.
Scarlett erupted in laughter, her head thrown back, the sound mingling with the alley's cacophony. "Oh, Sammi! You've got to be kidding me!"
"Shut up," Sam mumbled, forcing her lips into a pout.
"You're too cute when you're mad!" Scarlett leaned in, poking her side. "Try again! You'll get it."
Taking a deep breath, Sam squared her shoulders and tried again, this time throwing the ball with a bit more power. It wobbled down the lane, knocked over a couple of pins and then—bang—nothing.
"Not bad! It was... creative!" Scarlett smirked, leaning against the railing.
"Just let me try again, alright?" Sam replied, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, trying to push through her growing frustration.
"Okay, okay! But first, look at my perfect form." Scarlett swooped forward, grabbing the ball with her perfectly manicured fingers, all style and grace. "Watch and learn!"
The ball soared down the lane, effortlessly toppling the pins in a spectacular strike. Scarlett threw her hands in the air, spins on her heel, then glided back to Sam, eyes wide with mischief.
"See? Fun, right?"
"I guess," Sam responded, half-heartedly. Each pin felt like a mockery of her awkwardness.
Scarlett tilted her head, watching Sam closely. "You know, I think you're just trying to make me look good." She winked, adding a teasing tone. "Because you love me."
"Maybe."
"Maaaybe? More like 'definitely.'" Scarlett pushed her shoulder playfully, and Sam's heart raced at the proximity that sent her thoughts slipping away, pirouetting into volatility.
After a few more rounds, Sam grasped the rhythm of the alley. The chatter and laughter receded, drained by her focus.
Scarlett's laughter rang in her ears as she prepared for her next throw. She gritted her teeth, aimed, and—spare. The pins all toppled, and Sam couldn't hold back her grin.
"See! I knew you could do it!" Scarlett clapped, her excitement blaring like a siren.
"Yeah, well, practice makes perfect." Sam blurted, the moment bursting with an ill-placed need for escape.
"Let's be honest. You're just perfect as you are," Scarlett purred, eyes glimmering. "You fit me like my favorite shoes."
"Thanks?" Sam cast her gaze away, hiding her thoughts behind the heavy facade.
After the last frame, Scarlett finished with a wink, "So, Miss St. Onge, how about we get some food? I'm starving!"
"Alright."
---
Back home, Scarlett sprawled on the couch, pulling Sam into her embrace, the comfort warm but suffocating. Sam lay still. Minutes turned to hours, muscles twitching in anticipation. The rhythmic pull of Scarlett's breathing lulled her, but that gnawing panic refused to quiet.
Wait an hour. Just an hour.
As the weight of sleep drew Scarlett deeper into slumber, Sam inching out, a spider weaving her escape. Breathing shallow, she slipped from Scarlett's grasp.
Step by step, she crept through the vast, echoing halls, heart thudding loudly in her chest—each pulse a countdown to freedom.
At last, she spotted the front door, its handle pressing against her clammy palm like a final ally.
"Don't wake up, don't wake up," she muttered, swinging the door open, the cool night air wrapping around her like a promise.
And she was out.
---
The path through the woods beckoned. The thrill of independence surged within her. Each step away felt unbound, her legs carrying her towards liberation.
But just as quickly as the thrill ignited, clouds gathered over her certainty. The moon blinked knowingly down on her solitary flight, shadows dancing around the trees, whispering doubts in hushed tones.
The adventure echoes behind her, a sweet but dangerous fallacy in this chase for escape. In the silence, a faint realization crested over her fear: freedom came with a price.
