#murderedhim

"hey! a bunch of us are gonna play some volleyball. wanna join?"

❛ I’m doing anything I want to ! ❜

“ms. myers, right?” sam hovers by the door of the grocery store, waiting for her dad to finish up the shopping ; she cannot go in there, not ANYMORE, not yet. the aisles are blurry and bloody and even standing here on the other side of the door is enough to have her heart hammering and her head pounding. “hey,” WHAT IS SHE EVEN SAYING? sam doesn’t have a plan - she hadn’t planned on seeing phoebe myers today, let alone talking to her, but - - - she knows a little about her, in the way almost everyone knows a little about everyone in a small town. she knows the woman was a nightwing camper. it’s not like sam can just go out DOLING OUT INFORMATION about the curse’s truth, it’s barely even her story to tell ( deena had to fill her in two days later, in the hospital ) but it feels WRONG to not say anything at all. “do you, uh - have a minute?”