get some tissues, it's angst time

sam angst, to be specific!

and it's also a  l o o o n g  chapter!! about 2000 words

-𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓽𝔂

✘ - ✘ - ✘

No one had exactly forgotten the meltdown that Sam had when they mentioned going to Adrian's, but no one wanted to push her any further. Plus, it looked like Sam was okay. 

But looks could be deceiving. 

Every time she thought about That Night, she couldn't breathe all over again. She was right back where she had been. She felt like she should be screaming for help, but no matter how she tried, no words came out of her mouth.

She hadn't seen Adrian since, and she really planned to keep it that way.

However, as she arrived home from school and gotten the mail, she realized that would be impossible.

Because, in her mail, was a funeral invitation. For just her. Not Evan, not Sam's parents. Her name was right there.

Samantha Bennett.

Samantha's grip tightened on the papers in her hands. She fought to keep her breath still, and forced her tears back.

It was this weekend.

Maybe--Maybe he--Maybe Adrian wouldn't be there.

When Sam had heard what had happened to Rosaleen, she had felt sick.

Rosaleen had screamed that she wouldn't attend Adrian's funeral if he died tomorrow. So--So maybe Adrian wouldn't go to hers.

There was no way in hell that Sam could face Adrian. 

The funeral began at 5 PM. It was a small thing, only direct family and close friends. Closed casket--that much made sense. Formal wear.

Sam had to go. Rosaleen had been her best friend. To not go to her best friend's funeral would be--

Awful.

More awful than Rosaleen could ever be.

As Sam painstakingly forced herself to turn and walk inside, she wondered for a moment if Lance would be there.

"direct family and close friends"

Sam wondered if that applied.

◈ ◈ ◈

They always say "there's a first time for everything". 

Sam was fairly certain that was supposed to be a positive saying, but Sam had never... She had never been to a funeral before.

She dressed herself in a long black dress. The lacy sleeves went to her elbows. She had tied her hair up with a black ribbon. Black flats. Sam wasn't a fan of high heels.

Her mother assured her it was fine, but Sam wasn't sure.

There was only one cemetery in town. With a population of about ten thousand people...

About ten thousand people minus one.

Sam opened the door of the car and stepped out. The weather had called for rain--of course--but the funeral was inside so it didn't really matter.

Sam had thought it over and brought an umbrella anyway, just in case.

Clutching a small handbag in her hands, she stepped inside.

The door to the funeral parlor was wooden and very heavy, but Sam wasn't sure if she was just stalling or if the door was actually heavy.

No one turned to look at her, most of the guests too rapt in their own conversations to even notice she was here.

Sam's eyes flickered throughout the room like mad, scanning for just. One. Person. The casket was in the back of the room, and just a dozen or so chairs were lined up in front of it.

Her hands fell to her side with relief.

Adrian was no where to be found. Rosaleen's parents were near the casket, and Sam assumed that they would all arrive together.

Sam knew they liked to appear put-together.

The door slammed shut behind her, drawing eyes to Sam.

Rosaleen's mother held a glass of red wine in her left hand, and as she turned to see Sam, she scuttled over.

She looked sober. Sober enough.

Mrs. Channing gave Sam a quick hug, nearly spilling some of her wine in the process. In Sam's ear--in a voice so quiet no one else could hear--she hissed, "Adrian--the son of bitch. He disappeared this morning."

Sam put a sad smile onto her face, fighting back the flood of relief. She nodded slightly so it would look like they were having a normal conversation.

"It gets easier with time," Sam said in a voice slightly louder than she would normally use.

Mrs. Channing's face shifted for a moment, then quickly changed back to normal.

"Do you know Lance?" 

"Oh, yes, I do," Sam let her voice fall back to its normal volume.

"We invited him, too. He hasn't shown up yet."

Sam noticed.

"Did he call?" Sam was certain that Lance would have the same feelings that Sam had about missing the funeral. 

"No. He didn't say he would come, but he didn't say he wouldn't either."

"I'm sure he'll show up. Maybe he's just running late."

Mrs. Channing eyes slid around the room to make sure no one was watching, then downed the wine in one swig.

"Do you need anything, Sam? I won't tell your parents if you snatch some wine for yourself," Mrs. Channing gave Sam a quick wink.

"No, thank you. I'm fine," Sam had to drive back home. Plus, she wasn't exactly keen on taking anything from the biggest alcoholic she knew. Mrs. Channing probably spiked everything before she drank it.

"Not even a water?"

"No, really. I'm perfectly fine. I'll--I'll let you know if I change my mind."

"Please do."

A moment of silence passed between them, before Mrs. Channing glanced at a slender, silver watch on her wrist. "The eulogy is going to start in ten minutes. Are you going to add anything?"

Sam had prepared a couple notes on things she'd like to mention.  Nothing real scripted, just a note card with bullet points.

But now, staring out at all the people here... she wondered if she had the guts to lie to them all. She wondered how many of them knew the truth about Rosaleen and were pretending just like Sam, and how many of them were genuinely naive. Sam didn't want to feed into their warped perception of the girl by the name of Rosaleen Channing.

Sam nodded anyway. "I'll say a few words."

"Thank you."

Mrs. Channing turned away. Sam let out a deep sigh.

The door opened. Again, no one really paid any attention. Except for Sam.

Lance was here.

Sam pretended not to notice him, turning away and taking a step towards Rosaleen's father. Mr. Channing was just as good at pretending as his wife, if not better.

Footsteps directly behind her told Sam that Lance had spotted her.

"Sam," Lance's voice was soft. Really soft. Softer than Sam had ever heard it before.

Sam turned around slowly, "Oh. Hey, Lance. How are you dealing with... everything?"

Sam made a general motion with her hand.

A smile appeared on Lance's face that looked completely genuine.

But again, looks could be deceiving.

Sam was absolutely, one hundred percent, positive that no one should be able to smile like that in this situation. Not if they were being genuine about it.

Sam began to wonder about just how many of his smiles--his signature grins--were fake.

A wicked thought crossed into her mind (a̷l̷l̷ ̷o̷f̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷m̷?̷) but she quickly shoved it deep down inside herself where she would never think it ever again.

Lance gave kind of a soft, half-hearted shrug. "It's getting better. It gets easier with time, right?"

Sam had said the same thing.

Sam only nodded. "Have you talked to Mrs. Channing yet?"

Lance's eyes flicked over to the redheaded adult for a second before returning to Sam. "No, I was just looking for people I recognized, and you were the first person I saw, so--"

Lance cut himself off abruptly.

"Oh. I see. You should... probably talk to her. She asked me if I wanted to say something about Rosaleen so I bet she'll ask you too."

"Yeah," Lance said, shifting on his feet, "I'll go talk to her."

Then Sam was standing alone again. She gently tugged open her handbag and dug through it absentmindedly to distract herself. The eulogy was going to start at any minute now.

Sure enough, a low voice at the back of the room told her she could have a seat.

Sam was among the first to sit down. Mrs. Channing was directly in front of her. There was two seats to Mrs. Channing left that were empty.

Mr. Channing and--

--and Adrian.

Sam's brain barely processed it when Lance came and slid into the seat next to her.

Mr. Channing had been the one to call everyone over. His red hair was combed over very nicely, and his suit fit almost perfectly.

"Hello everyone," he said, "I would like to take just a moment before we begin to thank all of you for coming. We didn't want to have a big--"

Sam heard "expensive".

"--event. We only wanted to invite the people who were closest to Rosaleen. And that is all of you. I know that she valued all of you so much."

Mr. Channing cleared his throat.

Sam sniffed. This was going to be rough.

Sam could feel herself basically going onto auto-pilot, because she could hardly keep focused on what Mr. Channing was saying.

She was barely aware of her own limbs, so she could hardly acknowledge when Lance grabbed onto her hand.

Mr. Channing spoke some blatant lies about how family was always very important to Rosaleen, told some cute anecdotes from when Rosaleen and Adrian were just kids, brushed very quickly over how Adrian wasn't here, then asked if anyone else would like to speak.

Sam gently removed her hand from Lance's to raise it into the air.

"Ah, Sam, thank you."

Sam slipped a hang into her purse to grab her note card. Her heart rate spiked when she realized it wasn't in there. Sam forced back a sigh, then walked up to stand in front of the crowd.

What should she say? Sam was so very aware that everyone's eyes were trained on her.

Should she tell them about the time Rosaleen got so drunk that she started crying and confessed she was afraid of becoming like her mother? 

No--God no--What kind of--What was she even thinking?

What about how she had teamed up with a group of kids Rosaleen had tormented to solve her murder? Would anyone like to hear about that?

Sam was panicking. She took in a deep breath.

"U-Um," Sam started, glancing around the room. "I... remember, when me and Rosaleen were in elementary school. We... we were just these little babies. It was the first day of second grade, and I... I got lost trying to find my classroom. I was crying and crying but I just couldn't find where I was supposed to be. I didn't know who I sure ask for help, so I ended up in the bathroom all by myself, bawling my eyes out. Then Rosaleen showed up. She saw I was crying and asked me what was wrong. She didn't know where my classroom was either, but she waited with me until her teacher showed up to find us sitting outside the bathroom together. She just... she waited with me. I appreciated that she did that for me. I still--I still do."

Sam cast a glance at the casket, feeling hot tears prick at her eyes. She bowed her head and hurried back to her seat.

"Are you... okay?" Lance asked quietly.

Sam choked back her tears, "Yeah."

Lance's shoulders slouched and Sam knew he didn't believe her. He didn't say anything about it though,

He just took her hand again.

Before Sam knew it, the funeral was over.

Sam stepped outside, only to find that it was absolutely pouring. Rain came down to earth in sleets, blocking Sam's vision. She fought against the forces of nature to get to her car, but as she put her hand on the door handle, a voice stopped her.

Hair plastered to his neck and forehead after having chased her down, was none other than Lance Monterro.

"Lance? What are you doing here?" Sam's voice was a lot harsher than she meant for it to be. "I mean, um... is there something you need?"

"Well, I just wanted to say... that if you ever need, like... anyone to talk to--about anything, really. Then I am here."

"Oh. Um. The same goes for you. I'm... right here. I mean-- you know."

Lance quickly nodded and then turned and left.

Sam opened the car door and slipped inside.

She sat in the car for a long while before driving away.

✘ - ✘ - ✘

-𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓽𝔂