Re: [No. 3: Iris & Sam]
Yeah, man, Sam, when she wasn't sick, was small but thick, healthy, and the month in inpatient had included plenty of physical activity, because that kept her clean. Different people had different shit that helped them get through cravings, and Sam liked sweating. Fucking, running, climbing. Hell, she'd even lifted weights while she was in that place, and it all meant she was hella stronger than Iris, because Iris looked like she hadn't eaten in like a fucking week, yeah? So, Sam held her ground, because she really felt that Cris would help. That it WAS Cris, until he was gone, and then she realized maybe her head was fucking with her. Because no one was in the crowd that she knew. For Sam, that was scarier than familiar faces. She trusted Cris, Lou, Shane, yeah? They would make it safe, make it all ok, and that was more dependent shit. Maybe it was kinda damsel too, yeah? Thinking the men would make everything ok. But she woulda thought the same thing if it was Tessy standing there, so it wasn't about having a cock or anything. But Sam saw shit that wasn't there sometimes, yeah? Something about the damage to her head from that bullet, and maybe it was even her PTSD, and the doctors never knew where one thing really ended and the other began. But, whatever, the point was that they were alone, yeah? Just the two of them against whatever the fuck this mob was about.
And Sam, she DIDN'T let go of Iris' hand. It would be completely against her nature to leave her sister there to be torn apart, even if it WAS Iris this fucking mob was after. Though, yeah, Sam still didn't get WHY anyone would be after fucking IRIS of all people.
Whenever Iris stumbled, Sam pulled harder, and she screamed really encouraging shit, yeah? Like, "FUCKING MOVE, IRIS!"
Sam followed the tracks to the dump that was the trailer park, and she was wild-eyed ink as she looked for a trailer with its lights off. She didn't want to go from one bad situation to another bad situation, yeah? She'd finally found one, there, second on the fucking right and the lock looked easy from where Sam was standing, when she felt a tug in the opposite direction. She looked over her shoulder, and some man grabbed Iris' ankle. It was an older man, tall and fucking broad, dressed in black, and maybe it was a fucking priest or something. Who the fuck cared. All Sam cared about was that he looked strong, like an authority figure for the nameless faces in the crowd. Close now, she saw the glint of metal, and ok, NOW she was panicking. "LET HER GO," she screamed, still yanking on Iris' hand, even as Iris tried to pull free. "SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING. LET HER GO."