Off the deep end 5 (18+)
Pairing: Ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader
Warnings: canon typical violence, Sam going a little mad
Summary: Ethan is your close friend, and he might be the only one who still trusts you. You know it makes you even more suspicious in Sam's eyes, you know Mindy will take it as confirmation, but you simply don't care. You just want this to be over.
Masterlist
You sit in the trunk of Sam's car, furiously rubbing blood from your hands. Mindy cries in Chad's arms, Tara hovering over them both. Sam's beside you, a cigarette clutched between her fingertips. She hasn't said anything since she dragged you out, carefully sitting you down and wiping your face clean before you scooted away from her, accepting some wet wipes and dissociating at the sight of your blood stained hands.
Your head is a little clearer now and you don't flinch when she starts cleaning the wound on your shoulder, blowing gently when you wince from stinging pain.
Body bags are rolled on stretches one by one. You look down when you see detective Bailey break down in the middle of the street.
But you can't look away from Mindy stomping your way after she's been patched up by the medics, murder in her eyes. She halts to a stop before you, hand poised for a slap. Sam pushes her away before she can land it. "What the fuck, Mindy?"
"Yeah, what the fuck? You're defending her?!" She shouts, furiously wiping away her tears. "It's her, don't you see?"
Her raised voice attracts unwanted attention, people start looking at you with furrowed brows and you see a blonde woman take a few notes in her notepad.
"She made her go, Sam! If it wasn't for her Anika would be here," she breaks down in a sob, falling to her knees. Chad follows her, hugging her close to his chest, his eyes on you. You shudder at the rage shimmering in the dark pools.
"Mindy, she did her best," Tara whispers, clutching Sam's hand.
Your vision blurs with unshed tears, your fingers itching with need to do something, maybe go back to the elevator and keep trying to bring Anika back. Maybe you need to chase him and take his life.
You look away. "She's right, it's my fault."
"No, it's not." Sam reaches out to you, reassurances on her tongue, but Mindy pushes her back before she can voice them.
"She hid the knives," Mindy hisses with a cold look in her eyes.
"What?" Tara mumbles.
Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck as you try to understand what she is talking about. What knives?
"What a caring fucking girlfriend you are, huh? Let me get you a glass of water, Sam," she mocks. "You hid the knives right before we got attacked. And you got the call. You were at the fucking bodega. Did you kill that man in the alley too? Fuck, maybe you let that fucker in yourself, maybe you planned all of this. Maybe- Maybe you killed Anika in that elevator. You did, didn't you?!"
Her hands are on your shoulders, pushing hard enough to leave bruises. Your mouth falls open, but not a single word leaves your lips. You tremble violently, shaking your head, and see Tara takes a few careful steps back, her eyes glossed over. Mindy shakes you, screaming right in your face, and all you can do is crumble to the ground, choking on a sob.
Sam catches you before your knees hit the ground, pulling you into her chest and squeezing you tight.
"It's, okay," she whispers, "it's not your fault."
Sam's hands feel scalding hot on your body, but her words fall on deaf ears when the only thing your brain can register is Mindy's anguished cries.
It's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fau-
Loud shouts ring from the entrance, another stretcher rolled out. Mindy gasps, and in a flash she's gone, running after the group.
Anika.
You shoot up, ready to run after Mindy, but Chad stops you with a firm grip and a shake of his head, before turning around and following his sister.
You sag back into the truck, closing your eyes. When you open them, Tara is nowhere in sight, only Sam left standing by your side.
"Do you trust me?" You ask.
She freezes, her eyes widening a slightest bit at the abrupt question. "I do."
"Would you trust me with Tara?"
You can tell your question takes her by surprise. She's silent, tension taking root in her shoulders before it spreads over her whole body. She gulps, her eyes flickering around the street.
You nod, resigned. "I understand."
She turns to face you, her brows pulled tight, and takes her hand. "I trust you, I do. But Tara- Sometimes I don't even trust myself to protect her."
A dark chuckle escapes your lips. "That's not what I'm asking, Sam, and you know it. It's not about protection. Do you trust me not to hurt her? Not to kill her?"
She looks down, letting go of your hand, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. She takes a drag, blowing smoke away from you, her hands tremble.
This is it, you think. No matter what she said about Anika, no matter what she said about trusting you, you know she doesn't. Not completely.
"I don't know."
You look away in an attempt to hide your tears and nod, drawing a sharp breath. "It's okay. I'll just- I'll go, wait it out. And if you still want me when it's all over, I'll be there."
Sam straightens like a rod, her hand around your waist in an instant. "No. I'm not letting you out of sight." She clings to you, cigarette thrown to the ground. You let yourself enjoy the warmth of her embrace for a few fleeting moments before you start pulling away, but she doesn't let you, forcing your head up to meet her pleading eyes. "Please, don't go. I can't let you go."
You swallow dryly, and wipe away another set of tears. "You'll have to. N-none of you trust me," you choke on a sob, pushing against your girlfriend when she only hugs you tighter, pressing fleeting kisses into your hair. "You- you'll keep looking behind your back to make sure I haven't fucking stabbed anyone. I'd rather wait it out than go through that."
Sam shakes her head, "I need you close, so I can protect you."
You scoff, and forcefully push her away. "I don't need your protection. You should go to them," your head jerks in the twins direction, "make sure they're safe."
"Stop it," she hisses, following you as you try to walk away, "what the fuck do you think will happen once you're alone?"
"Nothing."
You need to get away. You need to go back home, curl on your bed and cry until you physically can't anymore. You still see Anika's empty eyes staring back at you, still feel the stillness of her chest under your palms. Everything around you is blurry as you stumble through the mass of people - paramedics, police officers, reporters and…
"Ethan?" You blurt as he steadies you.
He pants loudly, his eyes wide and questioning. "What- what happened?" He asks, pointedly looking at the blood all over your front.
He's thrown against a nearby car before you can answer, Sam's fist raised for a punch. "Where were you?" She growls, her hand closing around his throat. He's almost crying, his eyes glistening with tears.
You can see yourself in his place. You fight the urge to throw up.
"Sam," you speak up, but she doesn't hear you, pushing him hard enough to leave a dent.
"I- Econ," he wheezes, "I had econ."
"Sam, stop."
She listens this time, her eyes not straying from the gasping boy as she takes a few steps back.
You shudder as her hand returns to yours. "I'll take him with me."
She stills and doesn't utter a single word for a long moment. Ethan watches you, confused, but hesitant to voice his concern, as you both wait for Sam to speak.
"What?" She asks, her voice gravely quiet. "What did you just say?"
You swallow. "He'll stay with me, that way I won't be alone. He's a big guy, he's more than capable of protecting me."
She tilts her head to the side, her eyes growing a shade darker. "You're not going anywhere, especially with him."
“Wha- what is that supposed to mean?” he splutters, visibly offended.
You shush him with a look, shaking your head.
It's not ideal, you know, but it'll have to do. Ethan is your close friend, and he might be the only one who still trusts you. You know it makes you even more suspicious in Sam's eyes, you know Mindy will take it as confirmation, but you simply don't care. You want to barricade yourself in your room, open a bottle of tequila and fall asleep in your warm bed. You just want this to be over.
Sam shakes you out of your thoughts, a question in her eyes.
“What?” You ask, suddenly too tired to look her in the eye. You focus on the spot over her shoulder, still feeling the burning intensity of her eyes.
“I don't trust him.”
“You don't trust me either.”
"I can't afford to, but I can't- I can't afford to lose you either," she confesses, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
You close your eyes, feeling her arms envelope you, the smell of her cologne tickling your nose.
“Sam?” Tara calls.
Sam doesn't allow you to leave the sanctuary of her warmth, pulling you closer when you try to step away. “No,” she whispers, her grip so tight you struggle to breathe, “you're staying with me.”
“Sam, Gale found something.” There's an edge to Tara's tone, and when you open your eyes to look at her she doesn't meet your gaze, pointedly looking away.
Sam nods, tugging you along to follow Tara.
“Actually,” the blonde you saw earlier steps closer, her hand hovering over her gun on her thigh, “I don't think she should go with us.” She pointedly looks at you, her brows furrowed.
“What?” Sam hisses, shooting daggers at the shorter woman, but she appears unfazed.
“From what I've gathered, she seems to be our prime suspect. It wouldn't be wise to take her with us.”
“We should hurry,” Tara says, pleading Sam with her eyes.
“No,” Sam growls.
“Sam,” you plead, tugging your hand out of her grasp. “Just let me go, please.”
You're so tired.
“Sam,” Tara pleads. “We can't take her with us.”
“Then we don't go.” Sam's words are final.
Tara’s eyes narrow, you close your eyes, anticipating the verbal fight.
“What?”
“You heard me. For all we know Kirby is the killer.”
The blonde woman, Kirby, snorts, shaking her head. “This isn't your first rodeo, Sam. Love interests are always top suspects, and, with all of the evidence Mindy presented me with, you should be grateful I'm not putting your girlfriend in a cell.”
Tara looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since Mindy's outburst, her eyes swimming with questions. You look away, unable to hold her gaze any longer without crumbling apart.
“Sam, I'm going.” Tara says quietly. “She'll be-” she stutters, glancing at Ethan, “she can take care of herself.”
You nod, peeling yourself from Sam. She holds your hand tight, staring at Tara. “You're making me choose?” She asks, trembling.
Tara gulps, her eyes wide as she looks at your joined hands. “Whatever Gale found, we need to check it out,” she says, trying to convince herself as much as Sam, “I- I'm going, Sam,” she stutters, arms tight around her stomach.
All you can see is a girl forced to go through another massacre, a girl who still hasn't moved on from her best friend's betrayal. You understand.
Still, it hurts like hell.
“Go,” you whisper, managing a tired smile, “I'll be okay.”
With the last push, you leave Sam staring at her sister, and follow Ethan in the direction of his car.
×××
A movie theater.
That's what Gale found.
Sam walks in, Tara in her wake, timid and hesitant. She can't even look at her little sister right now, instead she focuses on what's right in front of her - her fathers hooded robe.
“You think she's still alive?”
She clenches her teeth tight and glances behind her shoulder. Another hallucination, just what she needs.
“Fucked up, isn't it?” Her father taunts, walking around her in circles.
She closes her eyes, clenching her fists tight. “Get lost.”
His mocking laugh grates at her ears. “I think one of them is already dead.”
She grinds her jaw, closing her eyes. “I said get lost.”
She turns on her heel, leaving the open space. She walks aimlessly, disappearing behind one of the many doors and sliding to the floor with her back against the wall. “Fuck,” she whispers, blinking back tears, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The door creaks open.
“Sam?”
It's Kirby.
Sam's fists clench.
“What?” She hisses.
The blonde looks at her for a moment, her eyes holding an understanding that hits Sam like a hammer. “We have some good news.”
Sam nods, not really caring.
“The next time that asshole calls we'll know where he is.”
Sam nods again.
“Sam.”
She looks down, playing with a loose thread in her shirt. “Good.”
“You made the right decision.”
Sam scoffs, standing up in one swift motion, now looming over the shorter blonde. “The right decision? She's alone. With that fucking-”
“He's alone with her.”
“Kirby,” Sam growls, a clear warning in her tone.
“I know. I went through this too, remember?” The shorter woman holds her ground, not budging an inch. “You know we can't trust her. You know it was the right thing to do.”
Sam swallows down the urge to scream. Instead she leaves, her steps echoing around the empty room, contemplating just going back and making you stay by her side, even if she has to force you.
×××
Ethan has to pack a bag. That's what he tells you anyway.
You sit in the passenger seat of his car - you didn't even know he had one - and wait for him to come out of his dormitory. You don't even jump every time a random car driving by honks. You tense, looking around, but you don't jump. You count that as a win.
You miss the feeling of safety Sam always brings.
“All good,” Ethan smiles, getting back behind the wheel. You startle, looking to your left.
“You sure?” You mumble, eyeing the small duffle bag he throws on the back seat.
“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I don't need much anyway. I know Sam's gonna get that fucker soon.”
You smile, relaxing for the first time since you left your girlfriend's side. “She will.”
His driving is a little messy - he hits at least three potholes on the way to your apartment and texts someone twice - but you don't complain, you're a far worse driver.
“That's me,” you sigh, welcoming him inside your apartment.
He looks around, his eyes widening as he takes in the mess that is your living room. You didn't really have enough time to clean up after Sam's visit.
“Sorry about that.” You blush, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
×××
“Sam,” Tara pleads, tugging at her sister's arm.
“Not now,” Sam hisses, looking around the park.
Kirby's plan to simply sit and wait for a call didn't sit right with Sam, so now they're here, in the middle of a park, with Kirby and Bailey as back up, baiting one of those fuckers in broad daylight.
She prays it works.
“Sam, you know-”
“Not now,” she hisses. Tara jumps away. Her sister never used that tone with her.
“I'm sorry,” she whispers, blinking back tears. “Maybe we shouldn't have left her. Not like that.”
Sam's eyes narrow as she turns on her heel. “You say that now?”
Tara squares her shoulders, wiping her cheeks. “I thought-”
“It doesn't matter what you thought. You made me choose. I would've never done that to you.”
Her sister folds in on herself, hugging her stomach. Sam sighs, looking around. She knows she's being too hard on her sister, but she can't bring herself to care right now. Not when you're in danger.
Sam starts, “Look, I know you're scared-”
“Yes, for you!” Tara interrupts, shaking. “You remember Richie? Remember his plans for you? And this- Kirby was right about love interests. We both know it.” Sam opens her mouth to protest, but Tara doesn't let her speak. “Don't try to deny it! I care about you, Sam, and if it means I have to be the bad guy to keep you safe, I'll do it.”
Sam's mouth snaps shut. Tara's eyes glint with determination now, her face set. She nods, feeling some of her anger seep away. “Okay,” she sighs. “I'm sorry for snapping.”
“I'm sorry for making you leave her.”
The sisters share a look and, after Sam nods, Tara throws her hands around her older sisters shoulders.
And then her phone rings.
“You're gonna die, you know?” She answers, looking around.
“No, you're gonna die, Sam, but not before watching your little sister bleed out.”
Sam swallows. Tara squeezes her hand, grounding her sister.
“But don't worry,” the voice starts, taunting, “it’s not her time. Yet.”
Sam stares ahead, unseeing, as the phone clicks.
“Kirby, did you get it?” Tara says into her ear peace. “What?” she pales, looking at Sam with wide eyes. “Yes, I know the address…” she trails off, trembling “...it's Y/n’s”
"What?" Sam breathes out and freezes.
Tara, not wasting any time, grabs her sister and runs to Bailey's car, pushing her in before taking a seat behind the wheel. The sirens blare, gnawing on Sam's mind.
Ethan, she thinks, that motherfucker. She's going to kill him. She'll make sure he suffers.
"Sam." Tara glances at her sister, expertly waving through the traffic. "I know you care about her, but..."
"What?"
Sam nods, her palms bleeding from how hard she's dug her nails into them.
"It might be... not what we expect. At Y/n's place, I mean." Tara mutters, glancing at her sister warily. Sam closes her eyes, taking deep, even breaths as her sister speaks. "Be ready for anything, okay?"
She is more than ready to gut the boy.
“Faster,” her father hisses from the backseat and she doesn't spare the hallucination a glance. “Or you'll lose your precious girlfriend.”
She grits her teeth, nails digging into her palms, and focuses on the road ahead, willing him to go away. She can't afford a distraction, not now, not when you are in danger. Tara glances at her warily, before hesitantly placing her palm on her shoulder, squeezing.
The breaks screech and she's out before the car comes to a full stop. She forgoes the elevators, running up the stairs to your apartment and bursting through the unlocked door.
The first thing she sees is blood.
The first thing she hears is Ethan's sobs.
"S-sam," he whimpers, clutching his stabbed stomach. "Please…"
Tara bumps into her back, panting and coughing. Sam's hand shoots out, stopping her sister from getting closer to the boy.
"Where is she?" Sam asks, her voice gravely quiet. She scans the apartment with her eyes, seeing no signs of struggle.
Her father appears by her side, nodding at the knife lying by the boy's side. “She did him good,” he grins in appreciation.
"I'm sorry," he wails, tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry, Sam."
She hums and takes a step closer, her fists clenched tight. "Where. Is. She."
Ethan blanches, pressing himself flat against the wall. "We were talking and she- she told me how sorry she was about Anika, told me how hard it was seeing her die, and then… then I hugged her, because she was crying and shaking, and I couldn't just stand there." Sam nods, crouching, and urges him to go on, her fingers squeezing around his wrist. "And then I felt the pain. I- I pushed her away and she- she did it again, she stabbed me again. It hurts so bad, Sam… Please," he sobs, wheezing.
Sam hums, pulling his hand away from the wound and presses her palm against it, hard. "That's not what I asked you," she hisses, enjoying the way he starts to writhe, screaming in pain, and pushes harder. She leans down to whisper in his ear, "Where is she?"
Ethan looks at her with wide eyes, terrified.
"Sam," Tara warns, "stop."
Her father chuckles.
When Ethan doesn't answer, she pulls her hand away, only to punch him straight in the gut, earning a pathetic wheeze. "I won't ask again."
"You're m- mad," he chokes, looking at Tara for help.
"We all go a little mad sometimes," Sam hisses before punching him again and again.
In the corner, her father smiles proudly.
She needs to know where you are. She needs to know you didn't do this. She needs to know you're not one of them.
"Sam, that's enough." Her sister pulls her by the shoulders, forcing her to stop the assault on the poor boy. "You heard him.. You see him. It's her," she whispers, blinking back tears. Sam shakes her head, ready to resume the interrogation, but Tara stops her. "Sam. This is not you. Stop."
Sam blinks rapidly, only now seeing a twinge of fear in her sister's eyes. Fear of her. She stumbles back, choking on her breath and falls to her knees, numb.
She sees her father shaking his head, disappointed in his daughter for stopping so early, for trusting you. She feels her sister's warm embrace, and hears her soothing words. She clings to her, burying her face in the smaller girl's frame, only one thought on her mind.
It's you.
