Tainted
CW: Mentions of blood & wounds, wound care (may be inaccurate), dark & violent thoughts, typical slasher darkness/graphic violence pretty much
Summary: Samara doesn’t like to feel things, but someone gets under her skin for the first and possibly the last time.
Timing: I picture this taking place a few years after Samara first started killing, so I’m thinking she’s around 20-21ish (I changed her actual age to 28 for story reasons!)
Word Count: 2k
Samara never knew what her favorite color was— that is, until she saw Julie’s eyes.
Blue. Like the sky during summer, deep and warm and welcoming. And like the ocean, they pulled her in. She was helplessly caught in the captivating whirlpools of her eyes, but she didn’t try to fight back. Maybe, just maybe, she’d let herself drown in them to feel something.
Samara’s gaze was locked on the mirror across from her, watching as Julie inspected the gash in her shoulder. A broken bottle was to blame for the new wound that’d surely scar. No doubt some drunken fool tossed it to the road to dispose of it. Littering… She should add that to the evergrowing list of ‘reasons to kill’. Rather than focusing on the simmering anger in her chest, she stared at the blonde in the reflection.
Her light brows were knit together as her gentle fingers expertly checked the wound. In her concentration, she was chewing on her full lower lip, turning it a deep shade of red. She’d pulled her hair back to keep it from obscuring her vision, yet a few wavy, golden tendrils slipped from the claw clip nestled at the base of her skull, framing her heart-shaped face. At first glance, she seemed to be unaware of Samara’s scrutiny, but the subtle flush across the tops of her cheekbones said otherwise.
‘Beautiful,’ Samara thought, ‘A living, breathing masterpiece.’ If she’d been an artist, Julie would’ve been her muse, making her fingers itch to replicate her essence in whatever material she could find. But the only art she was familiar with was that of her craft; the art of death.
Julie brought things out of the depths of Sam’s soul that, quite honestly, scared the shit out of her. She should feel vulnerable sitting here, with her sweater bunched around her neck and the expanse of her back exposed to someone. But with that someone being Julie, she felt anything but. Dare she say she felt… at ease around the other woman.
Damn her for making her feel this way.
“Well,” Julie sighed as she lifted her eyes to meet with Sam’s in the mirror, her beautiful lips rolled into a fine line, “Good news and bad news.”
“Am I gonna live, doc?” Sam joked in her signature dry way.
Julie laughed, sounding like wind chimes in the summer breeze. “Good news is that I don’t see any glass in there.”
Sam raised her brow, awaiting the bad news.
“Bad news…” Julie wrinkled her nose. “You’ll need stitches.”
Fuckin’ great…
“S’that somethin’ you can do?”
Julie rubbed her cheek in thought as her eyes studied the wound. “I mean… I can, I just…”
“What?” Samara asked with a tilt of her head.
Those blue eyes, damn them, returned to hers with a concern that made her gut twist.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Julie admitted softly. “I don’t have anything to numb you for the procedure.”
Samara had to lower her head for a moment. While stitches would suck, it wasn’t the impending pain that had her all out of sorts. It was what Julie had said.
She didn’t want to hurt her. That was a first in a while.
“I have some alcohol, if that helps?”
She felt the warmth of Julie’s fingers rest against her back, causing the muscles to instinctively tense underneath the gentle touch.
“No,” Samara refused stubbornly, “I’ll be fine.”
She saw Julie shake her head in the mirror before rummaging through the first aid kit on the table. “You’re out of your mind, Sam…” The blonde mumbled.
‘If only she knew,’ Samara thought.
Would Julie still blush from her intense gaze if she knew she’d stared into someone’s eyes as they died by her hand tonight? Would she still treat her gently if she knew of the brutality she was capable of?
She doubted it. But, why the hell did it matter anyway? Being with anyone, Julie especially, would spell disaster. They’d find out who— no, what— she was and they’d be horrified. She’d seen that look before, swirling in dozens of eyes as they realized their final moments were near, but that never fazed her.
But in Julie’s eyes? That would sting far more than a needle through flesh, glass tearing through muscle, or the burn from the alcohol wipe spreading through the agitated edges of her wound.
Samara dropped her head again to hide the wince that twisted her features. To Julie, it may seem like the stitches were getting to her. But it was the emotional revelation that brought Samara down and kicked her right in the ass.
She cared about Julie. Like, she cared. She was hopelessly infatuated with a woman she only saw when she was at her worst— covered in blood and her tongue stained with bitterness and anger. She was welcome in her home, her private sanctuary, where the colors adorning the walls spoke of her gentle nature, and the smell of the fresh flowers on the table hinted at her love for gardening.
She often spoke of how the flowers were doing, how she’d have to nurse them back to health when they wilted every now and then. She’d speak to them, sing to them, and whisper well wishes to bring them back to life. Funny, she thought, to be jealous of a plant because of Julie’s nurturing ways. As if she could fit in amongst the vibrant, lively variety of flowers in the garden… She would be the weeds smothering the roots of Julie’s beloved garden, choking it until it became lifeless and lost its color, leaving the petals dried and dead.
“There.” Julie taped the gauze pad in place to protect the wound. “All better.”
Samara was pulled from her thoughts of creeping through the soil by Julie’s voice. While she packed away the contents of the first aid kit, Samara carefully pulled her sweater back on. It had been ruined by the glass, but she’d worry about the rip later. Slowly, she turned around in the dining chair, only to find Julie was already facing her.
“Thank you, Julie.”
A smile pulled at her reddened lips. “Don’t mention it— What’s that?” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she stepped closer, standing between Samara’s legs as her fingers came up to her face. Her heart stopped as Julie’s fingertips brushed her hair from her forehead.
“Looks like you have some dried blood right here...” Warm fingertips grazed over her skin, bringing a shaky sigh from her lips. A war raged on in Samara’s head. One side longed to lean forward and bury her face into Julie’s neck, where her perfumed skin would be warm and inviting. The other side, however, wished to rip herself away from this new, unfamiliar touch and make a mad dash for the front door. The delicate, sweet florals mixed with the warmth of sandalwood of her perfume invaded her senses and helped her decide.
She lifted her hands from her lap and gently grasped Julie’s wrists as she titled her head up to meet her gaze.
Those eyes of hers… always so expressive. Anticipation and longing danced in the deep blue to the thundering beats of their hearts.
Julie’s lips were parted, soft breaths escaping in pants as she gravitated closer to Samara. They met in the middle, foreheads pressed against each other as they inhaled and exhaled the other’s breath. Through half-lidded eyes, Samara could see the bright pink of a blush on Julie’s cheeks, rivaling the dahlias in the backyard. Her fingers curled tighter around the blonde’s wrists as she tilted her head slowly, their lips barely brushing-
A knock at the door made Julie flinch and pull away, much to Samara’s dismay. Her mouth still tingled from the grazing of their lips and the blonde’s warmth lingered on her fingers.
“Sorry, one moment…” Julie’s voice was barely a whisper as she avoided meeting Samara’s eyes. One moment, they’d been close, sharing breaths, sharing warmth… Her eyes were burning holes into Julie’s back as she pulled the front door open, revealing a man on the other side.
Oh.
“Hey, baby!” He greeted with a grin as he reached for Julie, pulling her into an embrace.
Oh.
Samara’s fingers curled into her palms as she watched the couple at the door. Anger flooded her chest in a rush, warming her like freshly spilled blood did. The way he held her, with no hesitation and more familiarity than she was comfortable with, made her skin crawl as if needles were dancing across her skin; prickling and threatening to pierce her all over.
She could kill him. She should kill him. It wasn’t fair that he could touch her freely, unapologetically, and without the fear of tainting the beautiful thing that Julie was. Samara had only touched her wrists, but she was convinced that a stain had been left behind from her awful, bloodstained hands. Her jaw clenched tight enough that she feared her teeth would shatter.
His brown eyes met with hers as he held Julie, curiosity wrinkling his brows at her deadly glare. Suddenly uneasy, he pulled away from his girlfriend and asked under his breath, “Who’s that?”
Samara slowly stood and grabbed her jacket draped across the back of the chair. She shrugged it on and ignored the tugging sensation of the sutures holding her skin together— if only it could keep her from unraveling on the inside, too.
Julie turned to the side to look between her boyfriend and Samara. “She’s just-“
“Leaving.” Samara interjected coldly. “I was just leaving.”
“Sam, wait!”
She didn’t. She made a beeline for the back door and nearly tore the damned thing from its hinges as she yanked it open. The cool air of the night did little to ease the burning in her veins. She wanted to wreck the whole backyard, to uproot Julie’s precious flowers like she had done with her heart. But even as Julie held Samara’s heart in her gentle hands after ripping it from her chest, she still couldn’t bring herself to stoop so low.
“Samara, please!” Julie’s voice called to her as she felt fingers curl into the sleeve of her leather jacket. She jerked her arm from her and spun around to face the shorter woman.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” She hissed through her clenched teeth.
The moonlight illuminated Julie’s face, shadows accentuated the lines of the frown she wore and made her tears sparkle like fine diamonds as they welled up in her eyes.
A masterpiece. A fucking masterpiece, she was.
“I’m sorry…” Julie’s voice trembled. “But… what happened a few minutes ago, that was…”
She didn’t dare speak. She didn’t trust herself to while the acrid taste of poison coated her tongue.
“It was a mistake.”
A cold, sharp laugh sounded from her throat before she could think to stop it. That word… That fucking word had followed her like a goddamned shadow ever since she was born. It sounded bitter and hateful coming from her father as he threw it in her face, swearing up and down through his drunken haze that he had never intended to have a kid and wished he never did. It hurt, sure, but he was an angry drunk, and an asshole.
But for Julie to use the same word now, with regret laced through her angelic voice, brought on a pain she’d never felt. She might as well have stabbed Samara in the chest and twisted the blade to rip her heart to shreds. To dismiss their near kiss as nothing but a mistake— How fitting. Of course, this was what she deserved for being so foolish. Since when had a demon, filled with darkness and crafted through tragedy, been able to love an angel who could be radiant enough to make every shadow disappear?
She shook her head as she turned on her heel and walked away, trying her damnedest to ignore the sniffles that sounded behind her. Julie would be fine, with a boyfriend inside who could comfort her and make her forget such a mistake…
The darkness of the night awaited Samara with open arms and she melted into it, embracing the shadows and becoming one with them. Right where she belonged.
A/N: Here’s a little short for Samara that I couldn’t get out of my head! I’ve had it written for a while, just needed to edit it before posting. I’m such a sucker for characters getting patched up by someone they find cute😭 Sorry for the ending being kinda sad, but I promise Samara will have some happiness soon! Sure, Julie was pretty, but there’s other people out there for Samara— perhaps someone we all already know👀
Anyway, I hope y’all enjoyed it! I also would like to say that I’m working on the Ambrose story and the name of it is “You Call It Chaos, We Call It Family”. So, be ready for some craziness to ensue from Jason and Merry’s POV!
Taglist: @kalid-raven, @cries-in-latino, @the-pinstriped-hood, @rottent33th, @allthingsblood
Dividers by firefly-graphics
