Isn't it always true of betrayal; brands the heart, solidifies its walls? Samara never had a reason to wonder at this. Her own walls were always literal, built by family and circumstance, they didn't fail at rendering her unfathomably naive at the a...
The rain had never fallen so hard upon California, with Sam being there to witness its heavy downpour. Light rain, she had seen on occasion, but this? An odd day it would be, without question. Samara couldn't recall the last time a storm had brandished this city period, let alone a storm like this. So weird.
"Bowser?"
Sam sat up, having rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
"Are you up, buddy?"
Again, Sam had been rendered concerned about an oddity inflicting this particular morning. Where was her dog?
"You want some breakfast, Bowser?" She continued, ruffling her hair with one hand as her other fumbled upon the nightstand for her glasses. Putting them on, she could now take in the realization that Bowser had been in the room this whole time, his little head poking out from beneth her bed.
"What's up, bud? You scared of the thunder?"
He whimpered as the sky moaned with a loud rumbling, in what Sam could only guess was agreement, and she crawled to the ground beside him with a comforting gaze.
"Aw, Bowser, it can't get you. You're inside. Come out and eat, you'll forget all about it."
The pup, still apprehensive following his first, nightlong experience with thunder and lightning, and the horror that was harsh winds, tentatively snuck his way into his mom's arms. Having coerced her dog out of his cowering, she carried him into the kitchen and sat him on the ground, reaching into the cupboard for his kibble.
Filling Bowser's bowl, Sam's gaze drifted on instinct, falling upon the green dress she had dawned for work a week prior. She flinched. She hadn't even bothered putting it away.
The way he looked at me then...
It's a little ridiculous, only goes to show off how vestal and dreadfully inexperienced she is. But, as she crouched to place Bowser's breakfast on the kitchen tile at her feat, she let her memory stray to the forefront.
That day, he had seemed so surprised at first. Curious for reasons she couldn't place. It isn't as if that's out of character for Charles, though. The puzzle master himself was quite the conundrum on his own. Even if it was exactly what she'd expect from him, his calculated mannerisms consistently left her wondering. And, she couldn't help but cringe at the idea of that being exactly what he wanted out of her. Furthermore, as much as she hated feeling like his puppet, and no matter how flustered she'd be to admit it, the man's ability to constantly one up her in a battle of wit and insight turned her on immensely.
Ashamed at the realization, she scoffed at herself and redirected her stare towards her bedroom. How is it that Charles had spent the last two weeks attempting to build her up, while simultaneously keeping her down with all of his manipulation and stupid games?
Why is it that she continues to recall those eyes of his, and the way they loom down upon her petite frame? Managing to forget her anger in favor of the sweeter moments they've shared. Charles making time for her to do a self-love exercise with him every morning. Charles giving her a pet name, "Bunty", out of pride for the growth he's observed within her. Charles offering her rides due to fear for her typical utilization of the bus. Charles calling her beautiful. Charles fixing her bra strap...
Dammit, none of it really makes sense anymore, does it?
He's preyed on my habits in order to gauge reactions out of me. He lacks any understanding for the insecurities that I've made plain as day. Even so, he has still managed to become the sweetest, most unfathomably considerate person in my life over the short course of a few weeks.
Sam left the kitchen as Bowser was halfway through his meal, determined and unsure as she took long strides towards her room to stand before her closet. She felt stoic as she stood there, which was unlike her, to say the least. Especially considering how anxious and fearful her inner queries are rendering her emotions. The trait, however, was welcome.
An unpredictable amount of time left to go...
A deep red wrap dress, another employment gift from her mother which Sam had never even tried on, met her newly devoted gaze upon her flipping through the hangers of oversized sweatshirts and trousers. Storming beyond comfort in favor of the terrifying unknown. She smiled.
...andI'm going to make the most of it.
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