#ginger fitzgerald

"Where the fuck is she?" Sam whispered but received a shaky shush from Brigitte. The house was eerily quiet given that there was a creature somewhere in it.

The kitchen was just as destroyed as the rest of the inside, the fridge door hanging half open. I tugged Sam closer to me, shining the flashlight over everything.

"Okay, let's do this fast," My voice trembled.

"Yes," Sam replied almost too quickly into my ear.

I ran to get the flowers while Sam got the rest of the ingredients. I looked back to see Brigitte holding herself up by the counter. She looked at me with wild eyes.

"I can't feel my hand..." She whispered so quietly and so still, her eyes begging for some help.

I ran up to support her. "Shit..."

There was shuffling somewhere to the side and we all halted.

"Come on..." I pulled, almost carried, Brigitte to the pantry with Sam on my heels. It was pretty cramped.

"Alcohol-" I wheezed out while struggling to keep Brigitte upright in the tight space but Sam only looked at me confused. "There's alcohol here," I pointed to the top shelf and Sam took one bottle.

We sat down. I wiped off one drop of sweat on Brigitte's forehead as she came back to her senses. Sam offered to take off the flower buds while I poured the alcohol in a ladle. He was working surprisingly fast despite using only one hand.

Brigitte flinched and we all stopped and listened. "What was that?"

"Shit, just keep going," Sam mixed the buds with the liquid and I pulled out my lighter. As much as I flicked it, it didn't light up.

"Oh, come on," I sighed, hitting it against my palm like it would magically fix it. And somehow it did. I held it under the metal spoon. Sam bit the end of a cigarette with his teeth.

"Well that's fucking hygienic," He threw in into the cure to act as a filter. 

"Doubt it matters now," I answered, watching as Brigitte filled the syringe and then another two. One for each of us.

"How 'bout Brigitte take's the cure and we blow?" Sam locked eyes with me but I shook my head hysterically.

"No," I brushed my face with shaking hands. "No, I'm not leaving Ginger,"

Sam reluctantly nodded, taking my hand and squeezing it. "Okay, okay..."

"Then let me take the needle, I'll go into the living room, you two lead her in and bam, we're done," Sam suggested, looking between Brigitte and I.

"Okay," I said and Brigitte nodded. I held up a syringe. "But we all take one just in case,"

Sam placed one of the needles between his teeth and I gave one to Brigitte. Sam creaked the door open and before he could go, I squeezing his hand.

"Be careful," I said. Sam smiled reassuringly.

There was a roar and Sam got pulled out of the door, his hand slipping from mine. I screamed when the door shut closed then opened just a crack, rapidly shutting against the frame over and over again. Sam was on the other side, yelling and crying out while Ginger, that beast, attacked him. She kept growling.

Brigitte screamed too and both of us pressed into a corner. My hands were shaking so much they could barely stay on my face when I covered my mouth.

Sam's voice didn't stop and neither did the banging of the door, shaking the whole pantry. Food was falling on us from the higher shelves.

Finally, everything stopped. I wiped a hot tear from my cheek. Blood seeped from under the door. Brigitte was panting next to me, reaching to hold me down when I pushed the door open with my foot.

The kitchen was empty once again, only a long carpet of blood was new. The tiles were no longer visible. The door shut closed again, Ginger shuffling around behind it. There was a pit in my stomach as I grabbed the flashlight, turning it off.

I felt like crying, screaming and throwing up. There was a pounding in my chest, and I feared it might never stop. The only thing keeping me grounded was Brigitte, who was huddle to my side, hidden in darkness.

We just laid there until it sounded like the thudding was not coming back. I creaked the door open. The light reflected onto the blood, which was everywhere. I gulped down the feeling of disgust and fear for Sam.

The syringe was placed neatly onto the sheet of red. I picked it up, determined, even though there was still an awful feeling in my stomach.

The trail of blood was leading into the basement.

The stairs were creaking under my feet and they too, were covered in blood. I pulled Brigitte closer, gripping her jacket. She was swaying from side to side with every step and I did my best at keeping her somewhat stable. It was very quiet and I could only hear myself breathing.

Brigitte stopped and failing to hold her up, she fell down the stairs, slipping from my hands. Something tumbled out of her pocket.

I cursed, shining my light in the basement with fear, frozen in place before pulling Brigitte back up. "You okay?"

She nodded, gulping and I cautiously walked down the stairs, careful not to slip. I tried not to think about the fact that the blood was Sam's or that he might be dying or died already somewhere in this room. There were no signs of him or Ginger and I couldn't hear any of them either. 

The silence was laughing in my face, a reminder I might never hear from Sam again.

My breaths were coming out shorter and shorter, like something was crushing my chest.  I covered my mouth, stifling the noise. I felt Brigitte's gaze.

A scream shook both of us, snapping me out.

"Sam?" I called out. My voice was shaking.

I followed the red trail.

Even though the flashlight was little help, I saw Sam, covered in blood and breathing hard, propped up against the wall like a doll. And there was she, there was Ginger. A hairless, drool dripping monster.

Brigitte walked closer to her. "Ginger?"

I slowly placed the flashlight on the ground, the light shaking from my trembling hands, and I slowly crawled next to Sam. Brigitte followed me but instead came face to face with Ginger.

Sam was slumped against the wall, not looking like himself at all. There was blood on his pale face, in his hair, soaking into his clothes. Everywhere and even on my fingers when I tried wiping some of it from his face.

My lips trembled but I tried not to make a sound, terrified of the beast just a breath away. I couldn't see much anymore, only hearing Sam almost choking next to me. His eyes were wide and I couldn't look away from them. They were full of life he didn't get to live.

I turned away, looking at Brigitte.

She was next to me and I watched her with a turning stomach as she put some of Sam's blood into her mouth, eyes locked with Ginger's.

I looked away when she gagged but held it in, quickly standing up, like the moments of her unsteadiness was just my imagination. "Come and get me," Brigitte said and ran down the hall and Ginger leaped over Sam and I, leaving behind a sudden easiness. 

"Sam..." I scrambled closed to him.

Gasping for air, I pulled of my jacket, pressing it against Sam's chest. A deep gash was visible from under his ripped shirt. My face was wet and I couldn't stop myself from shaking, watching the jacket soak up the blood, getting mushier and mushier under my hands. I pressed it down harder, causing Sam to wince.

"Sorry, sorry..." My voice wasn't my own, coming out broken. I couldn't see much, just blood and red and more blood, more tears.

Sam tried taking my hand but I pulled it away, holding down on his wound. "You'll be okay,"

"Wait-," He winced, talking between rapid breaths. "Stop-"

"Shh, don't move!" I fumbled some more, staining my hands before he finally grasped one. I stopped.

"Listen to me, I'm infected-" He slurred and held my gaze. My lips were trembling and I held his hand tighter, preventing my hand from trembling too. "She bit me... you should go help Brigitte. Please, just get out of here..."

Sam's breath hitched and he squirmed in pain.

"No, I'm not leaving you, not like this-" My voice was weak.

I remembered the syringe.

"Wait! I-I had the cure..." I patted down my pockets. "Wait, just... don't move," 

My head was spinning and I could not remember where I put it when Ginger pulled Sam out of that room. My finger gripped something cold and my heart jumped.

When I pulled it out, the broken pieces starred at me in the face. I huffed, unable to stop myself from cursing in a shaky voice. "Oh, shit,"

Sam covered the shattered syringe, squeezing out the best smile he could in an attempt to comfort me. "Hey, it's okay. You know, I... always though I'd grow old and die in that green house. Definitely not like this, in some basement from a-" He stopped with a cough that turning into a wince.

I squeezed his hand that was starting to turn limp in my palm. "You're not dying," I muttered.

He only smiled, a lopsided quirk of his lips that looked more like a frown. I bit my lip, feeling my eyes burn with tears that would mean his fate was sealed.

"Hold on. For me," I went back to holding down my jacket on his would but my arms were giving out with every sob. "Please..."

"It'll all be over soon, no more werewolves or monkshood," Sam rubbed my hand. 

The oozing blood had started to slow yet Sam was still blinking up at me. I furrowed my eyebrows. "Wait..."

Sam took a deep breath that visibly pained him to do. He looked at me with eyes that shined with acceptance. "There's nothing you can do anymore,"

I straightened out. "No- I mean, you said you were infected, which means your wounds should heal the way Ginger and Brigitte's did in the car. You saw it, right?" I wiped my face with the back of my hand, wiping the tears with my stained fingers.

My heart jumped when my memory cleared. "A-and I took your syringe. You dropped it when Ginger dragged you out," I hurried to pat myself down again. To no surprise, there it was, intact. 

The cure was like liquid hope in a syringe.

Sam stared at me. No matter how long I took to look at him, he didn't look like himself. He let out something that should've been a laugh but quickly turned into a fit of coughs.

"Don't move..." I took him by the shoulder, exposing the needle.

The syringe was shaking like crazy in my hands but somehow I managed to inject Sam in the arm. Sam's face twisted and he closed his eyes.

"Fuck, that hurt," He muttered. I hesitantly took his face in my hands. He looked so fragile yet I could almost see the color returning to his face.

"You'll be okay..." I whispered, caressing his cheeks. They were cold. "You're okay,"

Sam peeled his eyes open, they were unfocused and tired but he smiled, something between a loving grin and a grimace.

"I'm sorry for running away earlier," I said, trying to laugh but it came out as a sigh. Sam gazed  at me for a while before chuckling that made him clench his side in pain.

He weakly smiled at me. "When you left, I almost went crazy," His hand reached to wipe my cheek, a lonely tear. "You're so beautiful, you know that,"

I didn't know what to say so I just giggled, my mind still in shock.

Sam was looking at me with wide, loving eyes, his mouth upturned and the color seemed to have flown back into his cheeks. No matter how many times I looked away or fidgeted with the jacket on his wound that had since disappeared, he didn't look away. He tugged at me, slowly pulling me closer.

"What-" I started.

"Shh, don't say anything," He whispered. His face was getting closer, then stopped. He looked at me with hesitation, silently hoping I wouldn't pull away like last time. Sam's fingers brushed my lip, catching my breath.

I closed off the distance. Our lips touched.

They were surprisingly warm, despite the fact they looked almost purple moments before. I fidgeted with his hair. We only pulled away when our lungs burned.

Pulling Sam closer, I embraced him, letting the blood soak my clothes. His breathing was steady now, his heart too, beating strongly between us.

I didn't notice that the house had gotten quiet, there was no roaring or screaming somewhere between the unfinished walls. Yet there was a big hole in my stomach for all of us. Even myself.

Sam rubbed my back when I pulled him closer.