Re: [No. 24 to No. 12: Iris & Sam]
Sam still worried, yeah? She was keyed to worry now, and it was always easier to worry about other people than it was to focus on the shit going on inside herself. And inside herself, inside herself wasn't good. Iris' fingers were in hers, and the police station was RIGHT THERE, but shit was still off, and Sam felt like the world was something happening OVER THERE. It wasn't ever good when that happened, and she knew stuff wasn't right. She knew, but as that stuff started to mingle with her own hallucinations, then it all got WORSE. Because real wasn't real, and neither were the things in her head, and it got all mixed up bad. Her brain couldn't figure it out, and tiny twitches wracked her as she looked at the neon light that was all wrong.
And Sam didn't know, yeah? That all this shit was still wrong because she'd taken their nametags, not wanting anyone to associate the bloody clothes with them. She wasn't smart enough to get that DNA was probs on the clothes, yeah? THEIR DNA, or that people mighta seen them wearing them. Nah, she didn't get that, but she didn't want their names hanging out in a garbage can or something.
"The door's around the back," she said firm, when Iris said shit was wrong. If they could just get up to bed, yeah? Sam tugged her sister around the corner, where the police station disappeared and left a field of flowers in its wake. Red, pretty things, with black centers and yellow stems or whatever in the middle, and their smell was a sweet acridness that hit Sam's nose fast. She didn't know what the FUCK the flowers WERE, and she knew there weren't supposed to be flowers right outside their door. But there they were, yeah?
She stepped out into the field, and it only took a few fucking seconds, yeah? Like everything was RIGHT. She looked over her shoulder at Iris, letting go her sister's fingers, and she smiled bright and wide and happy. It was still dark, yeah? And everything was maybe fucked up, but it all felt good, and Sam twirled and twirled and twirled further into that field. Her hair whipped chaotic around her, and her arms were outstretched, and nothing hurt. Literally, nothing fucking mattered, and she let herself fall back onto the blanket of red petals. "Cris'll get here soon! It'll be fine!" she called out, no longer worried about men in trailers, or about bloody clothes, or about Iris eating herself dead, or about IAN IAN IAN. Everything was fucking fantastic, yeah? She inhaled sweet, and she looked up at the new moon and thought it pretty.