Re: [No. 3 to No. 24: Iris & Sam]
Sam was wary about touching Iris, yeah? The flinch. But she knew they couldn't stay there. "The people with the guns might come back." She said that with the tug of her fingers. It was important, yeah? Moving. Moving was important, and she wasn't thinking about shouldas or couldas. She was just thinking about moving.
But Iris coughed, and Sam stopped tugging. Iris unfolded, but Sam wondered if that cough meant something was bad or broken. Iris had fallen, yeah? Gotten yanked down. Her sister was scraped knees and a fucked wrist and maybe there was something more serious. Sam stood there, and she watched as Iris got to her feet. Maybe it was the stupidest fucking thing to make her doubt shit, a cough, but there it was.
Inaction, and Iris said she didn't talk Spanish, and Sam didn't even realize SHE had talked Spanish. "I just said we could go home and sleep, ok? Just that. Anda." She wasn't sure about making Iris move anymore, but it was better than the alternative, so Sam started with small small small steps.
It was dark, black and pitch as the stepped away from the laundromat. Sam stood there, at the corner, trying to determine which fucking way to go. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing looked safe. Nothing looked good. The station was THAT WAY. She was sure of it, yeah? Maybe. And she tugged Iris with her, and she hoped she didn't get it wrong.
And it looked like the police station, yeah? Not exactly right, and maybe that was a neon sign blinking in front of it, but maybe the jail had one now. Sam's mind was willing to accept that, because it was either accept it or completely lose it, and she didn't want to completely fucking lose it. She could be strong, yeah? She could be.