Face the Storm

How are you, Faith?

Samantha screwed her eyes shut, swallowing and trying to compose herself — she’d done so well, kept  the mask so firmly in place for so long. “I —” she refrained from another sob, shaking her head silently. “It used me to do this to them — they w-were real…” Her parents, that baby, maybe not even a year old, the young mother and father, all the others…

"They are not real now. Remember that. Remember how strong you were, protecting all of us in the grocery store? That's you, not what was using you. Look at me," she beckons and lays a hand on Samantha's cheek. "I'm real and nobody's going to hurt you. Not ghosts or demons or that freak clown from that Stephen King book-movie thing. They're just ghosts. That's all." Patrick didn't like that, promising a rather lovely array of vengeful deeds on her when he was real again. "Oh would you shut up?" she demanded of her ghostly ex. "Honestly, I really don't have time for you."

I’m not a demon, I’m not it, go find it —

"Look at me," she instructed again. "They are not real. I mean, you can see them and hear them and so can I, but that does not constitute their real..ness." Green eyes, firm but warm, remained searching for Samantha's. Her calmness would be explained later.

vomit / don’t ship / ok / cute / adorable / sexy / perfect / beyond flawless /hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell

I’m glad it is to your liking, Ms…