lionhearted girl

Maybe because of years of practice and a hard-earned tolerance to alcohol, a hangover rarely kept Lola down for long. The headaches sucked, and she’d probably puke later, but she had a few pills in her purse that she could pop if it all becomes too much.

The prospect of staying in bed all day with this gorgeous woman was TEMPTING. Lola was greedy; perhaps she’d had her fill last night, but she always wanted more. Jobs and responsibilities and hard work are fine for those that care, but Lola lived life like an orgasm with her eyes wide open. “God, I wanna ditch,” she mumbled, rolling over with the dreamy languor of a kitten as she nuzzled into Sam’s neck. “Buuut, I can’t afford to lose my internship, and I’ve already ditched like three times this month. I’ll take that ride - want a little something to get us started?” Lola asked, gaze wrapping itself around Sam. She was incandescent in the cool morning light, sunshine pooling in her collarbones and illuminating her wildflower eyes. Lola would get her number, she decided, so they could do this again some time. Her memories of the night before were fragmented, but delicious.

There was no way Sam was going to be able to get out of bed if this beautiful redhead kept this up. Smiling widely as the other woman pressed herself against Sam’s neck, her hand instantly moved to thread her fingers through her hair. “Sounds like we have a deal.” She purred, eyes scanning Lola’s features, drinking in every last detail. Usually she left these one night stands as purely that: a ONE NIGHT thing. But there was some gravitational pull to this girl that made Sam want more, something that made it impossible to stop looking at her and basking in the light that radiated off of her. “A little something to get us started sounds great.” Sitting up reluctantly, dark tresses fell down her shoulders as she turned back to look at Lola, perfectly comfortable in only a bra and underwear. “So, where do you work, beautiful?” She asked as she slid out of bed and began searching for her jeans.

Whilst Dana had been a staff member of Doctor Wright’s for sixteen months and was guaranteed a job at Brielle Institute, the blue haired bombshell had taken a while to step foot in the building. Mental health wasn’t just a trend, like many people thought it was – it was spending days in bed, not washing, not opening your curtains. It wasn’t pretty and she KNEW that, ironically. Although Dana could have listed a rather long scribe of ‘cons’, on why she didn’t make a great therapist – this was one huge positive that gave her an edge that not many other of the psychiatrists in Brielle Institute had… She understood what it was like FIRST HAND to be suffering. Her PTSD was one thing. Everybody had horrible memories from their childhood that they did not want to even think about – but Dana? She wasn’t just living with one undiagnosed disorder. She was living with TWO. It was pretty fucking sucky waking up, not knowing whether she was going to feel on top of the world or if she was at rock bottom – there was never any in between but she realised, that beating herself up probably wasn’t the best idea… As her blue painted fingertips used the stirrer to mix the concoction of alcohol that the bartender had poured into her glass, muddy pools of brown were lifted from her Long Island Iced Tea as a sight far ahead caught her gaze… Another fiery female was sat in the bar – one who she recognised from being shown around the hospital when Robert first took it on. This was where Dana’s disorder came into full swing, as a confidence came crashing over her – making her feel like a KING as she conquered what she wanted, eyes pining over what could potentially be the start of a friendship. As her tall crystallised, ball point glass slid across the wooden table, Dana slid into the seat across. “Sam Barnes, right?”

@samanthaxbarnes​

It was truly a miracle that Sam’s liver hadn’t collapsed yet, given the copious amounts of alcohol that she had consumed over the past month. She’d found herself in her usual go-to bar, fake ID sitting snugly in her pocket as she occupied a table in the corner of the bar. Having already taken a fair amount of shots while talking to the bartender, she had settled on ordering a Mojito, which she had been taking delicate sips of for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for the room to stop spinning enough for her to focus on a single train of thoughts. She had just been about to stand up to order another drink when suddenly she was joined by a gorgeous female who wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. “Yes ma’am, Sam I am. I am Sam.” She laughed, running her hands through her hair and tilting her head as she looked over at the girl. “And you’re that new chick, right? The hot music therapist?” She licked her lips slowly before adding in a soft voice, “for the record, you’re much cuter up close.”

With the woman’s hand still placed upon his wrist Malcom found it entirely too hard to concentrate. He wasn’t accustomed to people touching him - and as such was extremely distracted by the feel of her ivory appendage laced around his own bare flesh. This is what he chalked up the feeling of fire in his arm to - the simple fact that the exchange of flesh was not the norm in his day to day, and that it was something he would experience should be touch people more often. It wasn’t to say the janitor didn’t enjoy the tingling sensation - but it was frightening none the less. He was slightly grateful when the woman released him but could also feel an echo of sadness bubble inside - the absence of her warmth leaving him even more alone than he had at been at the beginning of the night. Malcom dreaded the idea of being solitary with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company in the dead of night. The male barely every slept anymore - night terrors from his past hindering any sense of rest he sought after. Nearly every time Malcom shut his eyes he saw him; ADAM, the  hell spawn that robbed his own brother of any semblance of normal life. As a result of the lack of sleep Malcom often had dark circles beneath his chocolate orbs - reflecting his desperate desire to find rest.

So it was a patient that had locked himself inside Malcom’s closet? The idea was plausible - but what good could come from it? Attempting to figure out the logic behind the patients train of thought Malcom drew his brows down, furrowing them in contemplation. He might have drugs - or a weapon of some kind attempting to perform some kind of self harm, it seemed unlikely but wasn’t to be ruled out. He nodded then deciding the story checked out and the woman herself wasn’t some shady figure who’d lured him away for some sinister purpose. It was good to know she was trying to help someone, it let Malcom know he could be friendly with her - at least for now, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had seemed one way and turned out to be another. But for the moment he was content to stare into her coffee coloured hues, observing as he expressions changed and unfolded from something akin to being flustered to astute and level headed. In turn Malcom took a step forward and knocked on the closet door with two knuckles, listening as the sound echoed down the otherwise abandoned hall.

“Hey man, I think you’re gonna wanna come out of there on your own, punishment might be a little less harsh if you do.” He flashed a glance toward Sam, as if to draw an acknowledging nod from her to confirm he was right. He let a beat pass before speaking again, this time reaching into his own pocket to produce a small ring of keys, those of which included the matches to each intermittent janitorial closet around Brielle and the subsequent keys he would need to access rooms in which to clean. He was only to sweep out patient rooms with security around - everywhere else Malcom could access on his own.

“Besides, you’re gonna be real embarrassed when I open up this door in two seconds - so nows your chance.” He offered, slipping a key into the latch above the door.

There was a certain charge in the air between them that seemed to stop time all together. It was as though she forgot to breathe, oxygen trapped in her lungs as she stared into his gaze. It was amazing how all of her focus could be locked on one person, even if just for a moment. There were dark circles under his eyes, indicating that rest was something he didn’t get very often. Sam could relate to that in some ways, she supposed. Ever since the latest suicide, she’d withdrawn even more. She hadn’t known the girl personally, but she vividly recalled wanting her dead at one point... all because she had come in between Sam and someone she loved. Or, someone she thought she loved. Looking back at it  all, she wasn’t sure she had ever really had him in the first place. Sure, the chemistry had been there, but neither of them had given the other enough trust. Maybe that was where they went wrong... or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Not that Sam cared, of course--she didn’t need love. Or affection. She didn’t need somebody else to make her happy... and yet Quentin had made her happy. So when Sam felt threatened by Abigail’s presence, anger had flooded through the intern’s blood, and she had sworn that she wanted Abigail Winston dead. Out of anger, of course.

She just never thought it would actually happen.

The news of the patient’s death had shaken her to her core, making Samantha’s urge to protect the patients grow further. While rage was often her motivation for nearly everything she did, Samantha still had a good heart. She wanted to make her parents proud, and she wanted to prove to both herself and the head of the institution that they hadn’t made a mistake in hiring her. And so she’d increased her work load, taking on more than she could handle and trying her hardest to suppress the anger inside of her. Of course, the longer she went without expressing the rage building up inside of her, she knew that when she finally snapped it would be CATASTROPHIC. But now, all she could do was protect the patients inside the facility. Even when they made her want to yell at them and punch walls and kick doors in. Even when she wanted to lose control and just explode. She felt so many incredibly strong, overwhelming emotions, and yet just by staring at the man in front of her, the waves of her mind slowly began to calm down.

Her own hand felt empty as soon as she released him from her grip, the warmth of his presence having filled her almost instantaneously. It truly was amazing, yet at the same time she felt incredibly lonely. Even moreso than she had felt at the beginning of the night. And judging by his expression, she could only imagine that it was mutual. There was something about the way he looked at her that piqued her interest, prompting her to make a mental note to talk to him a bit more after this entire thing was over. Of course, now they had more pressing matters to deal with. Her mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, yet one single thing was clear to her: they had to get this patient out of the closet safely. Trip seemed to have caught on by now, a small smile flickering on her lips as she nodded in confirmation. “I promise you won’t be in trouble if you open the door and come out.” As she spoke, her own hands automatically reached for the taser that sat snugly in her belt.

After several beats of silence she met his gaze, nodding to signal for him to open the door. With one hand still holding onto the taser, she watched as the key was slid into the door, only for it to... not open. Which meant that something was most likely jamming the handle or blocking the door. Which meant the kid was definitely hiding something he shouldn’t have. “Do you think you can break the door in?” She asked in a low voice, eyes meeting Trip’s once more. “If you can get it open, I’ll secure the patient.” It was standard protocol and while usually she would be doing this with another Security Guard, it was just her on the night shift... although Trip seemed to be extremely helpful.

“Seriously??” Payson rolled her eyes. It was 5 in the morning. She was not one to be impolite or swear, but what the fuck. The blonde wiped the sleep from her eyes. “This isn’t a military camp, damn…” she mumbled, noting just how early it was. “Is everyone getting one….?” the blonde asked while she stepped to the aside, allowing Sam to come in.

Sam got it--it was early as hell, and she definitely didn’t want to be the one to wake people from getting their beauty rest. But the thing was, she was under strict orders to give a specific list of patients random checks in the middle of the night. Ever since the Winston girl’s departure, Wright had been extra keen on making sure that every single patient was consistently checked for any sort of substance or object that could potentially cause harm. “Yeah, Wright’s orders.” She walked into the room, flipping on the light switch. “Is there anything you want to tell me before I search your room?” She asked with a raised brow. “Cause if I do find something, you know I’m gonna have to confiscate it. Unless you want to fess up.” She really wasn’t expecting anybody to actually admit they were breaking the rules, but the least she could do was give the blonde a chance to be honest with Sam before she searched her room.

   “I bet he’s just thrilled to see me fucking miserable,” The blonde glowered, feeding drip rolling beside her as pale legs carried her into the garden. Dull eyes glared at the woman beside her, glancing uninterestedly around the bushes. “Leave me alone,” The girl spat, crossing her arms. “To inside. Without me. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Samantha sighed impatiently, following suit with the blonde. While many people despised Doctor Wright (and she supposed they had every right to, considering what a hard ass he was), she knew that at the end of the day he wasn’t as awful of a person as everyone made him out to be. Contrary to what Noah might think, Sam knew he cared. He just had a very odd way of showing it, that was for sure. “No can do, sunshine. Trust me, I don’t like this any more than you. But it’s gotta be done, so you’re gonna have to get used to having me around.”

The Sparks That Flew || Sam & Malcom

Dragging the broom across the linoleum of the kitchen Malcom let his mind wander, a dangerous pass time for someone with his undiagnosed disorders. As he swept he wondered if any of the police from his prior homes had connected any dots - if someone somewhere was making the only connection that linked a seemingly random string of crimes together - HIM. It wasn’t possible, Malcom knew that much, he’d never left any ounce of his DNA behind or any semblance of evidence for the authorities to find, but this notion still found it’s way to the fore front of the Withers mind from time to time. What WOULD happen should the police show up on the front steps of Brielle asking for the seemingly guiltless janitor? How shocked would the staff and patients be alike to learn that there had been a murderer amongst them. Not only in the case of Audrey Beaudair but a SERIAL KILLER; one who continued to consume the lives of those he’d deemed unworthy of life.

Prison wasn’t a reality the Janitor wanted to become accustomed to, not because he feared the bars or entrapment no - but because there were so many others he had to save, countless beings who cried out in the night to no avail, an abundant supply of victims laying in wait of their captors - the very proposal made Malcom’s flesh run icy hot again, head swimming with the familiar feeling of his other self bubbling toward the surface of his consciousness. The feeling tingled within his appendages but with nothing to harness itself to it soon dissipated back into the recesses of the Withers mind, coiling itself like a great snake - ready to strike at the very hint of danger in his surroundings.

It was at the thought of danger that Malcom caught sight of a figure sprinting past him, eyes ablaze with purpose and objective, She was hunting for something - someone. For a moment the male could only watch her, chocolate orbs curious as her lithe figure trekked through the dimly lit cafeteria in pursuit of the thing she was aspiring to find.

She’d not noticed him it seemed, the lovely figure who’s dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in a disheveled ponytail. Malcom watched quietly from his place beside a set of tables, garbage bin on wheels set adjacent to his position - the woman having strode past mere feet from him without even a second thought. Given her wardrobe he could only guess she was staff - perhaps some sort of security detail, the idea giving his heart cause to speed, if only slightly. Security was only a few steps shy of POLICE detail, so obviously it was smart for him to keep his distance, to lower his head and allow his dark mahogany curls to over his eyes - the sooner he became a shadow the better.

But this strategy proved ineffective as the woman seemed to back track, instead seeking his aid as opposed to figuring out her issue herself. With her form in closer proximity Malcom was able to identify her from her name tag - SAM it read clearly, just as his would reflect back to her; TRIP.  The Withers was thankful in that moment, as he found himself often, for the handful of people he’d ‘rescued’ and had agreed to help him create a database of identities he could use as he moved from place to place, state to state, like a chameleon changing it’s colours with the back drop it was presented with. Before he’d been Allan Pike, perviously Evan Rowes, formerly Devon McLaughlin and so many more. He kept the collection of ID’s tucked in a special compartment of his duffle bag - the one he was certain never to leave laying about unguarded.

Drawing his stoic orbs upward toward her frantic presence Malcom could only blink, focusing on how her gentle yet firm hands slipped from his forearm to his wrist - transmitting an other worldly heat between their two bodies. He nearly ripped his arm away, afraid and unfamiliar with the sensation the traveled up his appendage and through his chest cavity - but Malcom was more composed than most people might have believed. After a LIFE TIME of surpessing bodily instinct he could display an uncanny control over what his body did and didn’t want him to do - bar the occasions when he was possessed by his OTHER SELF. In those moments the Withers had no control, could only sit back and watch was he delivered justice to those who deserved it.

She needed his help - and in the few moments between listening to the initial request and obliging Malcom had forgotten to inquire as to what exactly the help would entail - his mind ablaze with so many musings all at once. “What exactly are we doing?” He finally asked, finding his voice somewhere between the hall to the cafeteria and the path toward the Janitorial closet - his closet. Panic might have set in had the Withers hidden anything of worth in the tiny work space, but it had served as only that and nothing more; a place to store brooms, mops, buckets and the like - how dumb would he have to be to conceal anything of worth on the grounds of the institute.

@samanthaxbarnes

Things had gone wrong fast. One minute Sam was standing in the hallway of the patient ward, the next minute she was wrestling some fourteen year old just to get back her fucking keys. He’d ducked under her before she could restrain him, and the next thing she knew she was standing in the middle of the hall with neither her keys nor her walkie in sight. What a fucking bastard. “Fuck.” She’d cursed under her breath, following the sound of pattering footsteps that floated down the halls. He was fast, she had to give him that, but her legs were longer and she had more stamina than he probably did. He might have taken her keys, but she also wasn’t above breaking a door down in order to protect a patient. Especially when she couldn’t call for back up.

It was times like these where she missed having Ryder at her side. It wasn’t a secret that Samantha was more than a little rough around the edges, and she didn’t really know how to make and KEEP friends, but there were definitely people in her life who deserved better than her. And while she was a piece of shit towards Ryder, he had been a very important and good influence on her. Now, with the absence of his presence in her life, she felt more hollow than she ever had. She’d picked up her pace now as she ran, her shoes slapping the tile floor in a steady, quick rhythm. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Why the fuck wasn’t Ryder here to help her when she needed him?

( Because you fuck everything up, Samantha. That’s just what you do. You find good people, and then you hurt them so badly that they don’t want you in their life anymore. Can you blame them? They see you for what you really are. A monster. Unlovable. Maybe it’s a good thing that Quentin finally got tired of your shit, all you would have done is left again because you are too petty for your own good. People still don’t know that you’re a staff member because you’re so immature and mentally unstable. You’re just too PETTY to fucking admit it. ) 

Anger coursed through her veins as she tried to keep the volume of her footsteps to a minimum while still quickly making her way down the hall. She had just rounded the corner when she noticed that the kid had actually disappeared into the Janitor’s closet, which happened to be a good distance away. For fucks sake, she really didn’t want to put up with this now. A low growl of frustration escaped Sam’s lips as she began to jog down the hall, only to stop abruptly upon noticing a shadowy figure moving around in the dark cafeteria. “Oh thank god.” She muttered to herself as she backtracked her steps and quickly made her way over to the odd looking guy. “Hey, I don’t have a lot of time. But I need your help. Please.” She’d shot her hand out to grasp his arm out of instinct, but quickly loosened her grip and instead resorted to lightly clasping her hand around his wrist. Tugging on him to move along, she began to explain the situation as she took off down the hall, leaving him trailing behind her.

Had Samantha been paying more attention, perhaps she would have noticed the electricity that had vibrated between the two of them. The night air was surprisingly chilling, but the warmth that radiated between them made his presence even more SENSATIONAL to her. Once they had finally stopped, she took a good second to look him over and actually notice who she had enlisted to help her retrieve this stupid child from the closet. The man--Trip--was shockingly attractive, though in a highly unusual way. His hair resembled a mop more than anything, but it was his eyes that really sucked her in. Her own light chocolate hues were nothing in comparison to the dark orbs that seemed fixated on her. For a split second she couldn’t breathe, focused on the fact that she still had her hand on his wrist. Finally letting go, it was a miracle she had managed to pull away without so much as a blush or a stutter. Sure, she’d had a momentary slip, but just like that it was back to business.

She exhaled harshly, repeating the same thing she had said to Trip upon finding him alone in the cafeteria. “I was doing room checks, and some kid grabbed my keys and walkie then just took off. I’m pretty sure he’s locked himself in your closet, as I saw him run in there about five minutes ago.” She slowed her pace as they approached the closet, her eyes drifting down to her watch to read the time. Yeah, she definitely didn’t get paid enough to chase a preteen down the hall at three in the fucking morning.

With a snap of icy blue eyes to those of the intern’s, her lips curled into a thin line and posture instantly tensed – unhappy. “Yes,” The blonde hissed, skeletal hands finding their way to protruding hips. Of course, it was stupid to think she could get away with any kind of privacy whilst under the thumb of Doctor Robert Wright. “Look, just let me go, Sam. I’m not going to kill myself with flower bushes.”

“Sweetie, I wish I could.” She let out a laugh, following the blonde. She wasn’t a child supervisor by any means, but Wright didn’t trust Noah enough to be left alone... which was understandable. “Believe me, this alternative is MUCH better than what the Big Boss has planned it you try to pull the plug again.” She looked around the garden with a raised brow, “So--where to now?”

The reaching to the keys gave him a slither of hope. That was until he heard her harsh and cold voice. Fuck. “I told you my bag is up there that’s why. When this place was still shit and chaotic the door was broken and I came up there to gaze at the stars. It calmed me down Sam. It made me not that annoying~” He knew his chances of getting up there kept getting smaller and smaller. The brunette didn’t like him, and he didn’t blame her for it. “God fucking dammit. There’s a lot of fucking shit in it Sam… Cookies, some candy, a rogue blanket, some pencils, my journals filled with short poems and drawings~” For a short moment his brain was debating about telling about the pictures, they were hidden in a secret pouch, but if she would find them he would be screwed. And maybe, just maybe he would get a little extra sympathy if he told her about the pictures. “A-And the only two- two pictures I have left of my sister…” He mumbled softly…

Something about the tone of his voice seemed to melt her heart of steel. Her hands immediately searched for the key to open the door, and she didn’t say anything as she pushed it open and held it open. “Just this once.” She whispered under her breath as he followed her through the door, “And I have to check it before you touch it. Standard protocol.” Even when everything was falling to shit, she was still TRYING to maintain some order in her job. Sharp eyes scanned the rooftop as soon as they reached it, a soft exhale escaping her lips as they landed on the bag. Looking back at him, taking in his overall appearance, she managed to find it in her to ask one more question: “You aren’t going to pass out on me, right?” Because she knew he was in a bit of a rush to grab the damned bag, she asked the question as she made her way over to it, kneeling down and looking up at him. “No sharp objects in here, correct?”

@pillsandpompoms

This situation hadn’t gone exactly as Heather had planned, if it could even be called a plan, though she wasn’t complaining. Maybe it was the adrenaline talking but she would done it all over again and she could think of a dozen ways this could have gone worse. However, she could have lived without being hastily dragged away from her destination. She looked the brunette guard over and the names Samantha and Allison both rang bells in her mind; not like it mattered to Heather all that much anyway. Either way, the guard was now on her radar and she wouldn’t forget her, or those dark, sharp eyes, anytime soon.

Heather pursed her lips and sighed. “Well, at least you got one thing right in that little rant of yours. Call me what you want but I’m sticking to my story. There was a fly and she happened to be in my way.” Her eyes followed the length of her body as she sized her up as well. The instinct to fight still hadn’t fully died down. “Just like you are now.” Once her eyes rose back up to the Samantha’s, Heather peered around her to call out, “I’m really sorry, again.” She put on a face of worry and compassion for the others in the room. 

Turning back to the Samantha, her face dropped to her usual bored demeanor. Isolation would easily have been the biggest downer on her day… or more like year. The only benefit she saw to this place was that she had people to keep her moderately entertained. She didn’t always need them but she wanted them around just in case. She begrudgingly nodded as anger emanated from her in waves. How dare she be right and why hadn’t she found someone to deal with this stuff for her? “Fine. I won’t let it happen again, officer.”

“Anything else? You gonna handcuff me, too?”

“Listen, Chandler. I’m not sure who the fuck you think you are, but you’re definitely not as high and mighty as you think. We wouldn’t want you to say the wrong thing to the wrong person--some people in here aren’t nearly as understanding as I am.” Her breath was even, but her heart was racing in her chest as she sized up the beautiful girl in front of her. Yeah, she could definitely take her on if she were to make any move to fight her... but Sam was almost positive that fighting wasn’t the ONLY thing she wouldn’t mind doing with the other girl.

Licking her lips slowly, Samantha wasted absolutely no time in catching the girl’s wrists in both hands, lightly pulling her close, keeping her from moving. Was she breaking some sort of security guard rule?? PROBABLY; but it wasn’t like she cared very much in the first place and besides, Heather had it coming. “I would make you apologize to her, but I think she’s traumatized now. Wouldn’t want to give her even more of a hard time than necessary.” She smiled wickedly, dark eyes flashing intensely as she suddenly became very aware of the limited space between them. They weren’t pressed incredibly close together, but she was still close enough to feel the electricity vibrating between them.

Sam almost snorted at the girl’s comment, light brown irises rolling in amusement. “Honey, I only use handcuffs in the bedroom.” She whispered in the other girl’s ear, not touching her at all yet moving dangerously close to her slim frame. 

She wasn’t sure how she had gotten lost so quickly - of course the fact that she didn’t trust herself, or think she was even capable of making a correct decision might have played a part in all of it. So there she stood, eyes scanning as people wandered past. Her main goal had been to look for Heather, but so far she had remained unsuccessful. “I’m so stupid,” she murmured. Though she quickly perked up as someone approached. “Hey, are you busy? Can I help you do something?” There was a hopeful look in the teenager’s eyes.

Sam was BORED. With everything going on in her life ( and by everything, she really meant nothing ) she was at her wit’s end. Caldwell had given her some very strict instructions to stay completely  f o c u s e d  on her job... of course, it was TEMPTING to listen to him, it really was. But she didn’t want to disappoint her parents, especially when she was finally starting to get a grip on reality. Sure, Quentin had fucked her over, but she was managing to keep a hold on her anger for now. Walking through the garden doing her usual patrol, she hadn’t even noticed the blonde girl sitting alone until she’d spoken up. “No, I don’t need help with anything at the moment. If that changes though, I’ll definitely make sure to find you.” She smiled dryly, “I’m Samantha, one of the security interns. I’m assuming you’re NEW here?” 

With the panic still flowing through his veins, he had to try really hard not to cringe when he saw Sam standing before him. The last time he saw her they didn’t really parted on good measure…  With the dark haired brunette lashing out to him, for a good reason, he did behave like a shitty fucking brat… But now- Now he really did need help. Help she might be able to offer him. 

God fucking Dammit Sam don’t fucking bother me in this time of distress! “I need to get up there please Sam… I left my bag up on the roof when the door was still broken. There is important fucking stuff in there.” He would beg on his knees if she would ask him. He needed his fucking bag, he needed the stuff hidden in there. His brain was exploding, the ghost of Rose eating away at his conscious, already seeing her faceless face walking through the hallways.

There wasn’t much PATIENCE left in her after what had just gone on throughout the halls of the mental hospital. “Why?” She asked, raising a brow as she reached in her pocket for her keys. This kid had given her no reason to be nice to him after how he had talked back to her. He was an annoying little prick and she REALLY wanted to punch him in the face, but she supposed she could turn over a new leaf and try to be nice for once. “What’s in there? And tell me the fucking truth, because I’ll be going through it the moment we get up there--IF I agree to help you out. And I have all day, so you can tell me now or we’ll just have to wait.”

( ... Sam wasn’t weak. She was STRONG WILLED and tough, and she never gave up. And yet here she was, sitting on the small sofa in her living room, calling her parents. Wanting to go home. “Hey, I just... I wanted to hear your voice.” ... )

Sadie had quickly already befriended just about everyone she had met - children, teenagers, adults.. it didn’t really matter to her how old they were. If they were someone nice well - she quickly liked them and in her mind they were a brand new friend! So she had a bunch of new friends, still Brielle was a bit of a struggle for her to adjust to in just about every other way - it was still scary, and she still often asked for her Mother - but she also knew her Mommy was busy when here, she worked here. But Sadie hated not knowing where her Mother was. The usually happy and bubbly girl would change into a worried and pouty child before your eyes.

Right now she wasn’t completely upset, she was certainly a little pouty though as she sits in the Rec room, a book on her lap and a stuffed rabbit that she had kinda claimed as her own tucked under her arm. But at the sound of a familiar voice she quickly looked up, a small smile tugging at her lips once more, “Sam! You found me!” she calls out, a small giggle bubbling out as the girl joins her on the couch - Sadie wiggling over and wrapping an arm around Sam as her eyes light up - the little nickname was one that made her super happy. Merida was by far her favorite Princess - maybe her favorite character - no.. she’d have to be tied with Tinkerbell, but Tink was a fairy and Merida was a Princess right? 

“YES! Can we? Please, Please - A special girls afta’noon sounds fun… Sam, can we have lollies too?” The last part was whispered as she peers around them, her eyes wide - careful to look out for anyone that might spill the secret.

It was incredibly difficult for Samantha to admit to herself that the girl next to her was sick--and not just with a cold or something. This was beyond serious, and it hurt her to know that Sadie’s mother had to deal with this all on her own. Which had been precisely why she had offered to step up and help out with the little one. Of course, she hadn’t actually expected herself to care much about the little redhead, but now she was too far to back down. 

Pulling the small girl into her lap and giving her a tight hug, Sam couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her lips. “of course! I even brought some EXTRA sweets just for you.” She pulled out the bag from behind her back, revealing a clear baggie full of chocolates, starbursts, lollipops, and mini bags of skittles. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” She asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she opened the bag and offered it to the little girl.