Josh Until Dawn - Blog Posts

BROTHER IM SOBBING😖😖

𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: the prank, no use of y/n GENRE: ANGST. SONG INSPIRATION: youth by daughter WORD COUNT: 9.1k REQUESTED: yes NOTE: who's ready to cry?

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no one truly understood how much his sister's disappearance had shattered him.

they tried to be there for him, to console him in those rare moments when he couldn’t mask the pain that cut him so deeply. 

they wanted to help, but no amount of support could bridge the pain left behind.

but you, you didn’t need to see the cracks to understand how broken he was. 

you were the only one he ever truly let in.

his brokenness became yours. the faraway look in his eyes, the way he’d drift off into silence, the dark circles that painted the story of sleepless nights. it all tore at you. he needed you more than ever, and in truth, you needed him just as much.

you started showing up at his place late at night, no matter the hour. just to hold him. to check on him. to sit beside him when the silence became unbearable.

there were no words that could mend what he had lost, no comfort you could offer to fix the pieces of his shattered heart. and yet, your presence was enough. he never said it out loud, but you saw it in the way his breathing slowed, the way he relaxed when you were near. 

you made it a little easier for him to sleep, to eat, to simply exist.

you’d do anything for him, and you had proven that countless times.

so when he brought up the idea of going back to the lodge a year after his sister’s disappearance, your heart sank. you knew it would be agonising for him, and the thought of reliving those memories made you hesitate. 

but when he asked you to come along, because you hadn’t been able to go the prior year, you couldn’t refuse.

you’d never let him face something like this alone.

you were the first ones to arrive at the lodge, the mountain air crisp as you stepped out of the car and took in the familiar, yet bittersweet surroundings. once you stepped in front of the lodge josh grabbed your bags before you could protest, flashing you a small, tired smile as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“i’ve got these,” he murmured, his eyes flickering with a warmth that hadn’t been there in a long time. then he headed up the stairs, leaving you alone in the spacious but eerily quiet cabin.

you took a moment, inhaling deeply, letting the nostalgia and tension settle in your bones. with a contented sigh, you stretched your arms out and decided to get to work. the place needed a little life breathed back into it. 

you started in the living room, uncovering the dust covered furniture. the old couch creaked as you lifted the heavy cloth, revealing its worn, familiar fabric. you busied yourself with small tasks: arranging the cushions, stacking wood, and kindling the fireplace until the room started to glow with a warm, flickering light. 

it felt good, in a way. a distraction, a chance to bring some comfort back into this space that had held so much grief.

but after a while, you realised you hadn’t seen josh. it wasn’t like him to disappear without a word, so you set down the last piece of kindling and wiped your hands on your jeans, calling out as you made your way to the bedroom.

“baby?” you called, peeking inside. the room was empty, the bags still packed, and there was no sign of him in the ensuite bathroom either.

frowning slightly, you turned back and started wandering the halls, your footsteps light on the wooden floors as you searched for him. just as you rounded the corner towards the front door, it flew open with a loud thud.

you jumped, letting out a squeal as your hand flew to your chest. there was josh, grinning looking extremely proud of himself, his laughter filling the cabin.

“oh my god, you scared me!” you gasped, half-laughing, half-annoyed as he stepped closer and pulled you into his arms.

“sorry, sorry!” he chuckled, his voice softer now, brushing a kiss against your temple. “couldn’t resist. you should’ve seen your face.”

you playfully slapped his chest, but the sound of his laughter, genuine and unburdened, was something you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. it melted away any irritation you felt, leaving behind a warmth that spread through your chest.

“you’re terrible,” you muttered, smiling despite yourself.

“yeah, but you love me,” he teased, his smile faltering just a bit as he looked at you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. for a moment, the playfulness faded, replaced by something deeper, more vulnerable.

“i do,” you whispered, your hand sliding up to rest over his heart. you felt the steady beat beneath your palm, a silent promise that you were here, together, no matter what memories this place held.

josh’s eyes softened, he pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. 

“thank you for coming,” he murmured. “i know it’s not easy. being here.”

you squeezed him tighter. “you don’t have to thank me. i’d follow you anywhere, you know that.”

he nodded, his grip tightening around you before he pulled back, a lighter smile on his face now. “c’mon, let’s finish setting up before the others get here. i want it to feel...normal. at least for a little while.”

it didn’t take long for everyone to show up, the lodge filling with a familiar mix of voices and laughter. the chill from the outside seemed to melt away as your friends settled in, dropping their bags and unwinding in the main room. 

the fire you started was crackling, casting a warm glow over the space. you could feel the tension start to ease, though the air still held an undercurrent of unease.

you made your way over to josh, slipping under his arm. he pulled you closer, his hand rubbing soothing circles against your back. you rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as the others chatted and joked around. for a moment, it almost felt normal.

then the front door swung open with a sharp gust of wind, and in walked emily and matt. emily’s face was set in a familiar look of annoyance, her eyes rolling as she stepped inside. matt followed close behind, his jaw clenched, clearly frustrated. you could sense the tension between them before they even spoke.

“well, look who finally decided to show up,” sam drawled from across the room, leaning against the couch with a smirk. mike's eyes flicked briefly to emily, lingering a moment too long.

emily scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “yeah, well, some of us had to deal with a little drama on the way up here,” she snapped, shooting a glare at matt, who looked like he was biting back a retort.

“drama? what kind of drama?” jessica chimed in, her voice dripping with curiosity and something sharper. she stepped closer to mike, wrapping her arm possessively around his waist. the look she shot emily was a thinly veiled challenge.

“oh, you know, the usual,” emily said with a sarcastic smile. “matt getting all worked up over nothing.”

matt’s face reddened, and he stepped forward. “over nothing? you were practically hanging off mike’s arm, em!”

mike’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the show. “hey, don’t drag me into this, man,” he said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “i can’t help it if people like being around me.”

“oh please,” jessica interjected, rolling her eyes. “it’s not like she hasn’t moved on, right, em? or maybe you just can’t let go of the fact that i’m with him now.”

emily’s eyes narrowed, her voice icy. “oh, trust me, jess, you’re welcome to him. i’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”

“bigger and better?” jessica repeated, her voice rising in pitch. “you think you’re better than me?”

the room went silent, the playful banter tipping quickly into hostility. matt stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides, while mike watched with a smug grin. you felt josh tense beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulders. he had that look in his eyes, like he was trying to decide whether to step in or let the drama play out.

“alright, alright, everyone, let’s just cool it, okay?” josh finally intervened, stepping between them with a broad, disarming smile. “we’re here to have a good time, remember? no need to fight over ancient history. how about you and jess go to the other cabin that i told you about and you let this go?”

he shot a pointed look at mike and then at matt, his tone light but firm. mike shrugged, backing off with a chuckle, while matt reluctantly stepped away, muttering under his breath. emily and jessica exchanged one last glare before turning away from each other, both visibly annoyed but unwilling to push it further.

the hours drifted by slowly as you lay in bed, your head pounding with the dull throb of an oncoming migraine. you closed your eyes, trying to block out the flickering shadows cast by the firelight, wishing for some rest. 

the lodge had fallen into an almost eerie silence. everyone had split off, doing their own thing, giving the place a stillness that felt almost unnatural.

then you heard it. a loud, frantic banging on a door downstairs, followed by a sound that made your blood run cold.

chris’s voice desperate.

“ash! oh my god, ashley!”

you bolted upright, the pain in your head forgotten as adrenaline coursed through your veins. throwing on your shoes, running out of the room and down the stairs, heart pounding in your chest.

you found chris frantically pushing against the kitchen door.

“hey, chris!” you yelled, grabbing his arm, trying to get his attention. “what’s going on? what happened?”

he turned to you, eyes wide and wild, barely able to get the words out. “it’s ashley,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “something– something took her! we were looking for clues and then... i don’t know, it grabbed her! we’ve got to get her out of there, now!”

the sheer panic in his voice left no room for questions. you nodded, bracing yourself and shoving against the door with him, putting every ounce of strength you had into it. the wood groaned under your combined weight, the hinges straining.

with a sudden, violent crack, the door flew open, and the two of you were thrown forward, hitting the carpet hard. you scrambled to your feet, the room dimly lit and filled with shadows. it was hard to see, but as your eyes adjusted, you spotted her.

ashley was sprawled on the floor, unconscious, her body limp and unmoving.

“oh my god, ashley!” you gasped, rushing to her side. you knelt down, hands shaking as you checked her pulse. relief flooded through you when you felt it. faint, but steady. she was breathing.

you turned back to chris, ready to tell him she was okay, but the words died in your throat as a shadow moved behind him. before you could shout a warning, a masked figure stepped out of the darkness and swung a fist, landing a brutal punch squarely across chris’s face.

“chris!” you screamed as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

instinct took over. you had no time to think, only react. you sprinted to the kitchen, grabbing the first thing you could find, a small knife. it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

you held the knife out in front of you, your hands trembling as you backed towards them, trying to protect her and chris. 

“stay back!” you shouted, your voice cracking with fear. “i swear i’ll use this!”

but before you could make another move, you felt it. a strong arm snaking around your waist, yanking you back against his chest. the sudden pressure of a cloth was pressed over your mouth and nose, the sickly sweet smell of chloroform invading your senses.

you thrashed wildly, kicking and clawing, refusing to go down without a fight. the knife was still in your hand, and you swung it blindly behind you. you felt the blade connect, slicing into flesh, and a distorted scream of pain ripped through the air. the grip on you loosened for a moment, using the last of your strength to try and break free.

but it was too late. the world around you started to blur, the room spinning as your vision darkened. your body went limp as the chloroform took hold, the knife slipping from your fingers.

the last thing you heard before you blacked out was the masked figure’s laboured, angry breathing and the sound of ashley’s soft, uneven breaths, still unconscious on the floor beside you.

that's when everything went dark.

you stirred awake, groaning as the pounding in your head reminded you of the events before you blacked out. 

beside you, chris let out a low grunt, shifting as he groggily sat up. the air was cold and heavy, the lights still off, and nothing around you seemed to have changed.

but as you blinked, clearing the haze from your vision, unease curled in your gut. something was different.

ashley was gone.

“shit,” you muttered, your voice breaking the silence. panic surged through you as you scrambled to your feet. turning to chris, you shook his shoulder, forcing him to focus. “chris. ashley’s gone.”

chris blinked hard, his face paling as realisation dawned. “what? where– what the hell happened?”

you didn’t answer, instead yanking him to his feet. “we’ve got to find her. she can’t be far.”

switching on the flashlight of your phone, you searched your surroundings. the beam caught every shadow, every corner, as you searched for any sign of where she might have gone. 

finally, your light hit something, a purse lying on the ground.

“it’s hers,” you said under your breath, crouching down to pick it up. it wasn’t much, but it was something. you clutched it tightly as you moved around the house toward the front door.

the door creaked as you pushed it open, the cold night air cutting through you. but what you saw next made your stomach twist into knots.

blood.

it smeared the wall outside the door in messy streaks, glistening faintly under the pale moonlight.

“holy shit,” chris whispered, his voice shaking as he stepped closer. “is that–?”

you didn’t let him finish. your flashlight followed the trail of blood, which led away from the house, cutting through the snow.

“we have to follow it,” you said, barely able to keep the fear out of your voice.

chris nodded, sticking close to you as you both ventured into the freezing darkness. each step crunched beneath your boots, the sound unnervingly loud against the eerie silence of the night. 

the blood left a faint trail to the shed in the backyard.

it was there that you heard it. a voice, cracked and trembling, carried by the wind.

“chris!”

ashley.

her sobs were unmistakable. exchanging a panicked glance with chris, both of you breaking into a run.

you burst into the shed, your flashlight sweeping over the scene inside. the sight made your blood run cold.

ashley hands tied above her to a wooden board, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against the ropes holding her in place. 

she wasn’t alone.

beside her was josh, also bound, his wide eyes locking onto you the moment you entered.

“oh my god,” you breathed.

“help me! please, help!” his voice cracked.

ashley was sobbing harder now, her pleas barely coherent as she begged for you and chris to save them.

their cries grew louder, filling the small shed with tension, until they didn’t.

the sound of a voice, deep and distorted, crackled through hidden speakers, silencing them both.

“hello, and thank you all for joining me..”

the voice was chillingly calm, it’s tone laced with malice. it was the one you’d heard before you passed out. 

you and chris froze, every muscle in your body tense as the words echoed around you.

your flashlight flickered slightly. josh’s voice cut through the deafening silence, quieter this time, trembling with nothing but anguish.

“please,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours, wide and glistening with unshed tears. 

“don’t let whoever it is hurt us.”

before you could respond, the crackling static of the speakers filled the shed once again, followed by the same deep, sinister voice.

“tonight, we’re going to conduct a little experiment.”

“what the fuck is going on?” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

the voice continued, unfazed by the panic rising in the room.

“for this experiment, we’ll need the cooperation of two of our test subjects… joshua and ashley.”

“what?” ashley’s voice broke into a sharp shout, her cries mixed with a choked sob.

josh froze, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his panic evident even as he tried to keep himself from breaking completely.

“oh my god,” you whispered, dread settling deep in your chest.

“but,” the voice drawled, almost casually, “we’re going to need one more brave participant to help decide… which subject will live, and which will die.”

“no,” you gasped, your voice cracking as the weight of the words slammed into you. tears burned in your eyes, now spilling over as you covered your mouth with your hand. “no, no, no!”

ashley’s screams became louder. “this can’t be real! this can’t be happening!”

josh pulled against his restraints again, pleading. “don’t listen to him! please, get us out of here!”

their cries overlapped, filling the room with desperate pleas and frantic sobs. you couldn’t breathe; the room felt like it was closing in, the walls pressing tighter and tighter around you.

chris stood frozen beside you, his face pale, his hands trembling.

“please, please,” the voice interrupted smoothly, it’s calm tone a stark contrast to the chaos you all shared. 

“everyone calm down. it’s all very simple.”

simple?

“you will find a lever placed directly in front of you. all you have to do… is choose who you will save.”

your head snapped toward the lever.

“what the fuck? they can’t be serious!” your sadness morphed into something hot and volatile. rage bubbling beneath your skin as you stormed toward the door between you and them.

“no!” you growled, slamming your hands against the handle. “this isn’t happening! this can’t be happening!”

you pushed, pulled, slammed your shoulder into the door, anything to force it open. the wood creaked under your assault, but it held firm.

the sound of metal grinding against metal filled the air, sharp and shrill. the saw had started.

the noise sent a chill down your spine, you pulled harder on the door handle, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“oh no,” ashley sobbed, her voice rising in pitch. “please, this can’t be happening! this isn’t right!”

the saw’s steady whirring was like a countdown, each second ticking closer to an unthinkable end.

josh’s voice broke through the noise, full of pure terror. “don’t do this! please, you don’t have to do this!”

ashley’s cries grew louder, more frantic. “save me! please, oh my god, i can’t die!”

you could feel your sanity slipping as you turned back to face the room. the lever stood there, mocking you, as if daring you. chris was pacing now, running his hands through his hair, his movements jerky and panicked.

“w-what do we do?” he stammered, his voice cracking as he looked to you for answers you didn’t have.

the saw’s hum grew louder, as the reality of the situation bore down on you. time was running out, and you were trapped in a nightmare with no way out.

the grinding sound of the saw grew louder. your hands trembled as you clutched the door handle, pulling with everything you had, screaming for it to give way.

"come on!" you cried, voice breaking as hot tears streamed down your cheeks. "come on, you son of a bitch, open!"

but it was no use. the door wouldn’t budge.

behind you, the pleas grew more frantic, more agonised. ashley was sobbing uncontrollably, her words tumbling over each other as she begged for her life. josh was screaming now, his voice hoarse and cracking, calling your name, calling chris’s, calling anyone who might listen.

“please!” josh shouted, his eyes wild and terrified as they locked on yours. “you can't let me die!”

your vision blurred as you turned your back to them, the image of josh tied up, eyes red, face swollen burned into your mind. the person who made you laugh when no one else could. the one who saw you when you felt invisible. the one you loved more than anything.

"chris," you sobbed, clutching at his arm. "we can’t do this! we have to find another way!"

but chris wasn’t looking at you. he wasn’t looking at anything but the lever.

he was trembling, his eyes darting between josh and ashley, both of them screaming, both of them begging, their voices a mix of anguish and fear.

"chris!" you yelled, shaking him hard. "don’t! we’ll figure something out! just–just don’t!"

his breathing was shallow, his face pale and wet with tears. “i– i don’t know what to do,” he choked out, his voice broken. “i can’t–, i can’t–”

but even as he said it, his hand was moving. slowly, shakily, he reached for the lever.

"no!" you screamed, lunging for him, grabbing at his arm. "chris, don’t!"

it was too late.

with a guttural cry, chris yanked the lever.

time slowed to a crawl, the world around you dissolving into a haze of sound and motion. the saw roared to life, screaming as it moved toward it’s victim.

“no!” you shrieked, your voice tore through the air as you clung helplessly on the gated wall for josh.

his wide, terrified eyes met yours, full of pain and betrayal. “no, no, no! please!” he screamed, struggling against the restraints with everything he had.

and then the saw reached him.

the sound was sickening, the kind that burrowed into your ears and stayed there, haunting. blood sprayed across the room, splattering the walls, the floor, and even you as you stood frozen, paralyzed by the horror before you.

josh’s screams cut off abruptly, his body going limp as the saw finished it's grim work.

the room fell deathly silent, except for the faint hum of the machinery winding down.

the door clicked, the lock releasing with an almost casual sound. it swung open.

chris stumbled forward, rushing to ashley’s side. she was sobbing uncontrollably as he worked to untie her. “it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “you’re okay. i’ve got you. don’t look.”

but you didn’t move.

you couldn’t.

your knees buckled, and you crumpled to the floor, your body wracked with silent sobs. 

josh. your josh, was gone. the one person who mattered most to you, the only source of true comfort that you had, was gone.

your eyes stayed fixed on the blood-soaked floor, on the mangled remains of the person you loved.

he was gone.

cut in half.

gone.

you hugged yourself tightly, rocking back and forth as grief consumed you, an unbearable weight that left you hollow and broken.

chris turned to you, his face pale and etched with guilt. he opened his mouth, but whatever words he tried to speak were drowned out by the sound of your own sobs, tearing through into the cold, unforgiving night. 

it echoed around you, a resonance that mocked the void where he used to be.

you could still hear him, josh's voice screaming for you in those final moments. still feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear when you used to lie close to him. it was nothing but a ghost now. a cruel reminder of what was gone. he wasn’t there anymore. he would never be there again.

your thoughts spiralled. chris. it was all chris's fault. he had made the choice. not josh. chris. he chose ashley. he chose her over him. his crush over his childhood best friend, your love, your person. the realisation hit.

before you knew it, you were moving, your grief boiling over into something darker. you snapped to your feet, crossing the space between you and chris in an instant. your trembling hands hit his chest, his shoulders. whatever you could reach, your fists weak but desperate.

“why?” you choked out, your voice breaking as you struck him again. and again. “why? we could’ve found another way! how could you do this? how could you do this to me?”

chris didn’t stop you. he stood there, letting you vent your anguish, his own tears carving silent trails down his face. he didn’t try to defend himself, didn’t make excuses. ashley stood nearby, distraught and useless, her sobs muffled behind her hands as she watched the scene unfold.

your blows slowed, turning into open palms pressed against him, you collapsed against his chest. the grief overtook you, the strength to hold it all inside shattered. you cried into him, the rawness of your pain spilling out in broken gasps and incoherent words.

for a moment, chris tried to hold you. his arms moved hesitantly, afraid to make things worse. but the second you felt him, your anger surged again, and you ripped yourself away. “don’t touch me,” you hissed, your voice shaking. you stumbled back, wiping at your face, dragging air into your lungs that felt too thin.

you couldn’t stay here. not in this place. not with these people who used to be your friends. you turned away from them and staggered outside into the night. the cold air bit into your skin, but it didn’t matter. nothing mattered anymore. not without him.

the lodge loomed behind you like a reminder of everything you’d once loved. 

deep down, you knew it didn’t matter who had been chosen. losing either of them would have been devastating, a blow from which you would never truly recover. but that logic was lost in the haze of your grief. it didn’t matter that the decision had been impossible. all you knew, all you could feel, was that chris had made it.

he had chosen not to save josh.

you stumbled a few steps further, every breath was agony. the grief, the disbelief, the rage. it all swirled inside you, drowning you in it’s weight.

it felt as though someone had reached into your chest and ripped out your heart, leaving you to feel nothing but also everything at the same time. you stared at the distant treetops, the stars blurred by tears, and tried to feel something other than the nothingness threatening to consume you. 

your chest heaved as you bent forward, hands braced on your knees, gasping for air that seemed almost impossible to catch. the night’s chill clawed at your skin, but it did nothing to numb what burned inside you.

the crunch of footsteps on snow made you look up, your tear blurred vision settling on emily and matt as they approached cautiously. their faces twisted with confusion and fear as they took in the sight of the three of you. shaking, pale, and splattered with blood.

emily was the first to speak, "what happened?" her voice was sharp but laced with unease. matt hovered beside her, his wide eyes darting between you, the blood, and sounds of the sobs that you shared.

you straightened slowly, forcing yourself to meet their stares. your voice trembled as you tried to speak, every word catching in your throat like broken glass.

“it’s josh,” you rasped. “he… he’s gone.”

emily’s lips parted in disbelief, she faltered as she tried to process the words. matt stiffened, his jaw clenching as his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“what do you mean, gone?” emily asked, her voice wobbling. her eyes darted between you and the shed, expecting josh to emerge at any moment, laughing this off as a cruel joke.

you opened your mouth, but the words refused to come. instead, fragments of the moment flashed in your mind. the split second choice, the screams, the sound of your own heart breaking. you winced, flinching at the memory, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“chris… he had to choose,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind. “it was him or ashley.”

the weight of the admission crushed you all over again, and for a moment, the only sound was the muffled sniffling from you and the distant howl of the wind. emily stared at you, her face draining of colour, while matt swore under his breath and looked away.

“that doesn’t make any sense,” emily whispered, her tone brittle. “how could something like that even happen? why–why was there a choice at all?”

her words struck a nerve, but you didn’t have the strength to argue. you couldn’t. the truth of it was unbearable, but it was all you had.

“i didn’t… i didn’t even get to say goodbye,” you choked out, your voice breaking. tears welled up again, blurring your vision. you turned away, clutching your arms tightly, trying to breathe through the pain.

you hear them talking. quietly at first, but the words soon cut through the air. they’re discussing the psycho on the mountain, piecing together what had happened. the conversation ends with emily and matt deciding to head to the fire tower to try and contact someone on the radio, and chris suggests you and ashley go with him to find sam, still hopefully holed up in the lodge.

you say nothing. you just follow them, keeping your distance but staying close enough to hear the whispers. the words between them are too loud for their own good, a mix of fear and regret, constantly circling back to josh.

ashley’s voice cracks as she speaks to him, her apologies tumbling over each other. “i know how close you were to him,” she says, her voice low. “i– i just... i never meant–”

she stops herself. the realisation hits her. she turns to you, eyes wide with guilt, as if suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

her face is full of remorse, her lips parting to offer an apology, but you can already feel the anger bubbling up inside you.

you clench your jaw, your fists tightening at your sides. she doesn’t get it.

“don’t. you don’t get to talk about him,” you bite out, the words sharp. “you don’t get to. not after what happened.”

the air between you is heavy with tension. ashley opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. she knows. she knows there’s no fixing this. you didn’t want her to. how could she?

you charge upstairs, your legs trembling with every step, but the adrenaline doesn’t let you stop. it fuels you, because you can’t stop. not now. not with sam missing. not with everything spiraling further and further out of control. 

you don’t even bother hiding the tears streaming down your face anymore. you just need to find her and get out of this godforsaken place. this needs to end.

you’re done with the fear. you want to go home, to a place where things made sense. you want to feel safe again, slip into your bed where his scent still lingers, and just… cry. to finally feel the pain and let it break you. 

the hallway stretches out before you, quiet and eerie, the air heavy with the silence that feels so much worse than any scream. your breathing is ragged as you throw open door after door. 

"sam!" you call, but there’s no answer. just empty rooms. no sign of her. each door you open makes your stomach twist tighter with dread, like a rope being pulled too taut.

you jog back down stairs, walking to the entrance of a room you haven't checked yet.

the movie room is where it all comes crashing down. her bracelet. you spot it immediately on the floor, lying there as if it’s mocking you. you freeze, staring at it. she never takes it off. never. your heart drops, she was here. and she’s not anymore.

you stumble forward, picking it up with shaking hands. it’s so small in your palm, so simple, but it’s hers. it’s hers, and it’s the only sign of her that you’ve found. and then you see it. the video.

it’s looping on the projector, a grotesque, grainy replay of josh’s death. over and over. the sound of his screams fills the room, echoing in your ears, drowning out your own sobs. chris is already on it, slamming his fist into the projector, but it’s no use. the damn thing won’t stop playing. he kicks it, hard enough to send it skidding across the room, but it keeps playing.

you double over, clutching your stomach as if it’ll stop the nausea rising in your throat. it’s too much. all of it. the weight of what you’ve lost, the guilt, the fear, it’s suffocating. the bracelet in your hand feels like a cruel reminder that sam could be next. or maybe she already is. and what the hell can you do about it?

“we have to keep moving,” chris says. you know he’s right, even if you can’t bring yourself to say it. you wipe your face with the back of your sleeve and force your legs to move, one step at a time, until you’re following him down to the basement.

the air is colder down here, and not just in temperature. it feels… wrong. like something is watching. waiting. ashley’s hand brushes yours at one point, a trembling, silent plea for some kind of comfort, and you squeeze it instinctively. you don’t say anything, though. what is there to say?

then, it appears. the ghost. at first, it’s just a pale blur in the corner of your eye, but then it comes again. clearer this time. the faint outline of a figure, there and then gone before your brain can catch up.

ashley screams, stumbling back into chris, who immediately snaps into denial. “there’s no way–” he starts, but then it happens again, and the words die in his throat.

your pulse is nothing but a hammer in your chest. you can’t even feel your hands anymore; they’re ice, like the rest of you. you scan the room, every dark corner, every shadow, but it’s the dollhouse that pulls your attention. it sits there, perfectly positioned, it’s tiny rooms lit by some unseen source. 

the dolls inside. each one carefully placed, are positioned just like that night. like the prank. like what happened to hannah.

you couldn't even touch it at first. your fingers hover over the tiny furniture, shaking too much to do anything else. you open it and you see her diary.

the pages are worn, the ink smudged in places like she’d cried over it while writing. you skim the entries, your chest tightening with each one. her excitement about mike. her insecurities. the little hopes she’d held onto, even when things were rough. you can see her in the words, hear her voice, and it breaks you all over again.

she trusted you. she trusted all of you. and what happened? she was pushed too far, and now she’s gone. her warmth, her kindness, her life, gone. 

the tears come harder now, but you don’t stop reading. you owe her this.

you don’t realise how long you’ve been standing there until chris nudges your shoulder. “hey,” he says, softly this time. “we… we should go.”

the basement hallway stretches out further than you thought it would, the shadows growing deeper with each step. then you see it. a figure. sam’s clothes, and for one awful, heart stopping moment, you think it’s her. you freeze, the air ripped from your lungs, until chris steps closer and pulls the chair into the light. it’s not her.

relief floods through you, but it’s short lived. she’s still missing, and the nightmare is still far from over. you glance at ashley, whose eyes are wide with panic, and then at chris.

chris looks just as distraught as you, his face pale, his hands trembling as he struggles to stay composed. you want to say something, anything, but the words won’t come. that’s when you notice it. a shadow shifts behind him, barely noticeable at first. it moves closer, and your heart leaps into your throat.

your mouth opens to scream, to warn him, but it’s too late. a figure lunges out of the darkness, fist connecting with chris’s face in a brutal, sickening thud. his head snaps to the side, he crumples to the floor, out cold.

“chris!” you gasp, but there’s no time to check if he’s okay. the flashlight he was holding clatters to the floor, spinning wildly before it’s beam settles on the attacker. he turns toward you and ashley, his movements deliberate, methodical.

ashley is quicker than you expect. before you can react, she rushes forward, gripping the scissors. she drives them into his shoulder with a desperate cry, the blade sinking in deep. the attacker stumbles back, a low, pained grunt escaping him, but it’s not enough to stop him.

he moves with startling speed, grabbing ashley by the wrist. she struggles, kicking and thrashing, but his free hand rises, before she can break free, his fist connects with her face in a brutal blow. the impact sends her crumpling to the floor in a heap on the floor, her body still.

“no!” the word tears from your throat. helpless, as the reality sets in. you’re on your own, and your only weapon is still lodged in his shoulder.

you turn to run, your legs screaming at you to move, before you can take more than a step, something sharp pierces your neck. it’s small, almost subtle, but the effect is immediate. your hand flies to the spot, fingers trembling as they brush against the tiny dart embedded in your skin.

a whine escapes your lips as your knees buckle. the world tilts violently, the edges of your vision blurring. panic claws at your chest as you try to stay upright, your body refuses to listen. your legs give out completely, you fall, the ground rushing up to meet you.

before you hit the floor, strong arms catch you, pulling you against a broad chest. you’re too weak to fight, your limbs heavy and useless.

“i’m sorry,” a voice murmurs, low and distorted, the words muffled by the mask obscuring his face. “i’m so sorry.”

you try to focus, to make sense of what’s happening, the world is fading fast. the last thing you see before the darkness takes you is the mask staring back at you, it’s blank, soulless eyes the final image burned into your mind.

you wake slowly, your eyelids feel weighted, your thoughts sluggish and out of sync. something isn’t right. your instincts scream it before your senses can confirm. when your eyes finally flutter open, the world above you sharpens into focus. two massive saw blades hang ominously overhead, their jagged teeth gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights.

it’s the next sensation that sends a chill crawling up your spine, your wrists. they’re bound tightly, the rough rope digging into your skin with every small movement. you yank at them, testing the restraint, but it holds firm, the fibres biting deeper.

panic sparks, your breath becoming faster as you look around, desperate to understand where you are, what’s happening. the room is cold and industrial, its concrete walls bare except for the shadows cast by flickering lights. your gaze snaps to the figure directly in front of you, chris.

he’s slumped in a chair, his head hanging slightly, his face pale and tight with fear. one of his hands is bound to the armrest, but his other arm hangs free. between you, perched cruelly sits a gun.

your chest tightens as you try to move your legs, only to realise they’re tied too. the ropes around your ankles bite just as viciously as the ones on your wrists. you twist and pull, but your body feels sluggish. the injection, that stranger. you’re still under it’s influence, your limbs betraying your desperation to escape.

“chris?” your voice is hoarse, trembling, thick with fear. “what’s going on? where are we?”

he lifts his head slightly, meeting your eyes with a look that chills you to your core. his face is a mix of confusion and terror, his lips parting to speak. “i don’t know.”

your mind reels, memories flooding in, the shed, the others, the horrific choices. 

the weight of what’s coming feels unbearable.

“we’ve gotta get out of here,” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the relentless pounding of your heartbeat.

that’s when you hear it. the saws.

the metallic whine cuts through the air as the blades begin to descend, slow but deliberate. the sound, growing louder with each passing second. your head snaps upward, and the sight of the spinning teeth edging closer sends a fresh wave of panic through you.

“no!” you scream, thrashing against the restraints, your wrists burning as the ropes cut deeper into your skin. the effort is frantic, wild, but useless. the ropes don’t budge. you feel like you’re suffocating, the walls of the room closing in.

and then they stop.

the saws are still whirring, still spinning inches above your head, but their descent halts. the silence that follows is almost worse than the noise. 

that’s when you hear it.

that voice again.

“hello there, my special little subjects.”

your stomach twists as the sound crawls over your skin. chris freezes across from you, his head snapping up toward the speakers embedded in the walls.

“aw, shit,” he mutters, his free hand darting for the gun on the table between you. he grips it tightly, holding it up defensively as though the steel in his hands could somehow protect you both from the nightmare unfolding around you.

the voice continues.

“chris has made one fatal choice already today, and now he must make another.”

you and chris lock eyes, the horror in his matching your own. your breaths come faster, you shake your head desperately, trying to deny the inevitable.

the voice pauses, as if savoring the moment, before delivering the final blow.

“chris, you can take the gun in front of you and shoot her, or you can shoot yourself. whoever is left gets to live. the choice is yours.”

your stomach churns, your chest tightening so much it hurts.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head, your voice trembling. “no, this can’t–this can’t be real.”

chris’s hand shakes as he lifts the gun, his knuckles white around the handle. his gaze flickers to the saws above you, still spinning mercilessly, then to you, and then back to the gun.

“don’t look at me like that,” he says, his voice barely steady. “there’s gotta be a way out. this… this doesn’t make sense.”

he turns the gun toward the machinery and fires. the deafening crack of the shot echoes in the room, but it does nothing. the saws keep spinning. the gun’s recoil jerks his arm, and he mutters a curse under his breath, lowering it slightly as the futility of the situation sinks in.

“no, no, no,” you mutter, panic clawing at your chest. you thrash against the restraints again, harder this time, your vision blurring with tears.

“chris,” you rasp, your voice breaking. “you have to do it.”

“what?” his head snaps toward you, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“shoot me.” the words come out stronger than you expected, but the tremor in your voice betrays your fear. “you have to. you can’t–” your voice falters, and you swallow hard before continuing. “you can’t kill yourself. you have ashley. you can live. you can make it out of this. i–i can’t.”

“what the hell are you talking about?” chris’s voice rises, desperation thick in every syllable. 

“i’m not doing that! we’ll figure something out– together.”

“there’s nothing to figure out!” you cry, your voice raw. tears spill down your cheeks, but you keep going, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “chris, i can’t live without josh. don’t you get it? i’m already gone. he was everything to me, and now he’s dead. i don’t have anyone to go back to. but you– you have ashley. she loves you. you can still have a life.”

chris shakes his head violently, his grip on the gun trembling. “no. don’t– don’t say that. don’t you dare say that. you think this is what i want? to kill you? how the hell am i supposed to live with that?”

“by being alive!” you scream, your voice cracking. “chris, please. i can’t– i can’t do this anymore. just end it. end it for me. you don’t deserve to die here. not for me. not like this.”

tears streak his face now, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. the gun in his hand wavers, the barrel swinging between you and himself.

“i can’t,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “i can’t do it.”

“you have to,” you plead, your voice softer now, almost broken. “please, chris. you have to make it out of here. you have to live. for ashley. for yourself. for me, don’t let this place take you too.”

the saws above you screech, jolting both of you. the voice returns, colder now, more impatient.

“time is running out, chris. make your decision.”

chris’s face crumples as he stares at you, the weight of the choice pressing down on him. his hand tightens around the gun, shaking harder now.

you hold his gaze, tears streaming down your face. “it’s okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling but resolute. “it’s okay. just do it. i’m ready.”

the gun rises.

the room feels impossibly still, the only sound the relentless whir of the saws above. your chest heaves with shallow breaths as you close your eyes, waiting for the end.

BANG.

the sound reverberates through the room, deafening and final. you jolt, your body stiffening in anticipation of pain, but... nothing. you’re still here. alive. untouched.

your chest heaves as you slowly open your eyes, your breath caught in your throat. chris is staring at you, his face pale and drawn, his expression one of shock and bewilderment. he’s just as confused as you are.

the saws above you screech to a halt, the room plunging into a sudden, eerie silence.

you blink, trying to process what just happened. “chris?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

before he can answer, the overhead lights blaze to life, harsh and unforgiving. the sudden brightness makes you wince, and when your eyes adjust, you see him.

the psycho.

he steps out of the shadows, his mask gleaming under the fluorescent lights. he moves with a slow, deliberate confidence, as though savoring your fear. your heart pounds wildly in your chest, the sight of him terrifying you.

“no,” you stammer, your voice rising in panic. “no, no, no! get away from us!”

chris, snapping out of his stupor, raises the gun without hesitation and fires.

bang!

bang!

bang!

three shots. each one echoes through the room, but the psycho doesn’t even flinch. he doesn’t stumble, doesn’t react. it’s like the bullets didn’t touch him.

“oh, chris...” the voice is mocking now, dripping with condescension. the psycho moves closer, his head tilting as if amused. “oh, chris, chris, chris, chris, chris.”

chris’s grip tightens on the gun, his knuckles white. “what the fuck?!” he shouts, his voice cracking with frustration and fear.

the psycho chuckles, a low, sinister sound that sends chills down your spine. he circles the table slowly.

“you’ve heard of blanks before, haven’t you?” he says, his tone smug and condescending. “i mean, really?”

chris freezes, the gun lowering slightly as the psycho’s words sink in. blanks.

you feel your stomach drop. the tension in the room grows unbearable as the psycho stops beside you, his presence radiating menace. he tilts his head, examining you for a moment before turning his attention back to chris.

“i mean, come on,” he says with a smirk in his voice. “you really thought i’d make it that easy?”

his hands move to the edges of the mask, and your breath catches in your throat. the anticipation is unbearable as he lifts it, slowly revealing his face.

your eyes widen in disbelief, shock and horror flooding through you as the truth clicks into place.

it was him all along.

the sound of the door screeching open echoes through the space, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from him.

your entire body feels like it’s been hollowed out, like every breath has been violently torn from your lungs. your mouth is open, but no words come out, no sound—just the sharp, jagged edges of disbelief slicing through you.

josh.

josh, your josh. the one you saw ripped in half, his blood pooling across the floor in a scene so horrific it seared itself into your memory. the man you mourned, grieved for so deeply it felt like the world might never make sense again.

and yet here he is, standing before you.

“josh?” mike’s voice cuts through the silence, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself of what he’s seeing.

you can’t think, can’t move. it’s like the pieces of reality are crumbling apart and leaving you suspended in this unbearable moment. how is this possible? how is he alive? and more terrifyingly– why?

a tidal wave of emotions crashes over you. confusion, relief, anger, betrayal. all churning into a storm so violent you don’t even know which way is up anymore. your head drops, the tears come, shaking you to your core. but the sobs are silent, strangled by the sheer weight of it all. 

you cry so hard your entire body trembles, the kind of crying that leaves you gasping for air but never getting enough.

sam rushes over, her hands working to untie the ropes binding your wrists. “it’s okay,” she murmurs, though her voice shakes as much as your hands do. “we’ll figure this out. you’re okay. i’ve got you.”

but even as she says it, you can hear her unspoken doubt. she doesn’t understand what’s happening any more than you do.

and then josh laughs.

it starts low, a chuckle that grows louder, sharper, until it fills the room. the sound is manic, cruel, cutting through your grief.

“oh, very good! every one of you! got my name right!” he says, his voice dripping with mockery, arms flung wide as if he’s addressing an audience. “and after everything you’ve been through– wow!”

your stomach twists painfully as his words sink in, each one laced with something venomous. he paces the room, looking at each of you in turn, his grin widening as he feeds off your reactions.

“good, good, good. i mean, how does that feel?” his eyes flick to you, it feels like the winds been knocked out of you. “huh? do you enjoy feeling terrorized? humiliated? panicked?”

his voice rises with every word, his arms flailing dramatically.

“all those emotions my sisters got to feel one year ago! only guess what? they didn’t get to laugh it off! no, no, no! they’re gone!” he stops, his face twisting into something wild and unhinged.

mike steps forward, his expression dark, his body tense. “i don’t know if you’ve noticed, josh, but none of us are laughing.”

chris then speaks up, there’s a venom in his voice you’ve never heard before. “you want to talk about humiliation? about terror?” he jabs a finger in josh’s direction, his voice rising with every word. 

“do you have any idea what you’ve done to her? to all of us? you died, josh. we thought you were dead! she—” he gestures toward you, his voice cracking. “she begged me to shoot her because of what you did! she wanted to die, josh! because of you!”

josh’s manic energy falters, his expression slipping into something more subdued. his mouth opens like he wants to argue, but nothing comes out.

chris steps closer, his face inches from josh’s now. “you think this is justice for your sisters? you think this is what they’d want? or are you just too wrapped up in your own goddamn head to see the difference?”

josh stares at chris, his lips trembling, his confidence visibly cracking.

but you’re not watching them anymore. you’re staring at the ground, your vision blurred by tears. his voice, his face, his laugh. it’s too much. it’s all too much.

“hey,” josh says softly, steps toward you, his voice lacking the bravado it held moments before. 

“hey, it’s okay. i– it’s me. it’s josh. i’m here now.”

you feel his arms around you, warm and familiar, and for a fleeting second, you almost give in. almost let yourself believe that this is the josh you knew, the josh you loved.

but then reality slams into you like a freight train.

“no!” you cry, shoving him away with every ounce of strength you have left. he stumbles back, his face a mask of shock and hurt.

you take a step back, your chest heaving, your voice trembling with betrayal. “how could you do this to me? to us?”

josh’s hands rise defensively, his eyes wide. “i– i didn’t mean–”

“don’t you dare,” you snap, you point at him. “don’t you dare act like this was some accident. you planned this, josh. you planned it, and you knew what it would do to me!”

your voice shatters into a sob as you turn away from him, collapsing into sam’s arms. she catches you, holding you tightly as you bury your face in her shoulder.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. her voice is steady, but the anger in her eyes as she glares at josh is unmistakable. “i’ve got you. it’s okay.”

josh takes a step toward you, his hands reaching out. “please, i–”

sam’s glare sharpens, “don’t. you’ve done enough.”

josh stops, his arms falling to his sides. the room is heavy with silence now, the weight of his betrayal suffocating.

and for the first time, you see it on his face, realisation. guilt. maybe even regret.

but it doesn’t matter. nothing he says or does will undo what’s already been done.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ @antihuntress

© ruewrote 2024.

Two lovers entwined pass me by

And heaven knows I'm miserable now !!

(captured by: @bratjosh / me)

i played until dawn again after like four years lmao heres my ending if anyone is interested:

chris: alive

ashley: alive

mike: alive

sam: alive

matt: alive

emily: alive

jessica: dead

josh: wendigo

i sleep so i can see you (i hate to wait so long)

ੈ✩‧₊ chapter 3: sam likes girls?

view it on ao3 previous chapter

image credit: @bratjosh <3

pairing: josh washington x sam giddings, emily davis x sam giddings

synopsis: The first time Sam has a proper interaction with the twins' older brother, she's on the ground. When Sam is in the tenth grade, he's the reason she gets called to the principal's office. She's got her phone beside her pillow at full volume at all times and he's why. She realises that she'll be making excuses for him all her life. Josh and Sam in the years leading up to the prank. Or, all the boys people Samantha Giddings has ever had a crush on.

word count: 4.6k

a/n: hiiii guys !!!! sorry not a lot of jossam in this chapter; this is something for the samily girlies... i wanted to try something a little different and kind of build more on sam and her inner thoughts and feelings. but don't worry, LOTS more jossam to come in the next chapters :) :) we haven't even got to the good parts yet ! this one was loosely inspired by a headcanon written by @queenofbaws! she has sooo many cute jossam oneshots that i LOVE. thank you so much for all the support on this, i hope you all love reading it as much as i loved writing it <3

Sam figures that she likes shopping with Emily - it’s more fun than shopping with her mother, (who only takes her shopping once every six months when her clothes at home no longer fit her) that’s for sure. She was surprised that Emily had even asked her in the first place instead of Jess, who was usually her go-to whenever she felt like spending money; but Sam was glad to have a reason to finally use what she had saved up from her job at the animal shelter. 

She receives the phone call Friday afternoon after she gets home from swim practice. Sam rushes to her room to pick up her phone, because despite knowing her since middle school, she still can’t tell whether Emily likes her or not. When she answers, Sam pretends to be preoccupied and picks at her nails, even though Em can’t even see her. 

“We’re going out tomorrow,” she says. “I need to buy something for the dance and I don’t trust anybody else’s opinion.” 

Sam’s been talking to a guy for a while now - his name’s Elliot and he’s on the swim team and the track team like herself. While he’s sweet and patient and doesn’t mind that she’s rejected him more times than she can remember, there’s still something in her brain that tells her she shouldn’t be with him. When they had first started talking, he had asked her to go to the movies once after school. 

“I can't,” she said. “I need to visit a friend in the hospital.” 

What she likes about him is that he’s understanding and patient. He had asked her again the week after. 

“I can’t,” Sam said again. “I have swimming and track after school every other day.” 

He had joined the track team to see her more often, which she had rolled her eyes at. If it was Josh, she would’ve secretly thought it was endearing. There’s no reason why she should be thinking about Josh this much; she hasn’t spoken to him in ages. There’s no real reason why she shouldn’t reject Elliot anymore - she doubts Josh even thinks about her, and she figures she needs to get over him at some point.  So she had accepted Elliot’s invitation to the school dance in two months, and she realises that she wouldn’t mind going dress shopping. 

It makes her glad to know that Em thinks so highly of her, that she actually cares what Sam thinks. She’s also excited to feel like a normal teenage girl - something she always forgets to do amongst all her duties. It’s been back and forth from her mother and father’s houses every few days and she hasn’t had time for herself since god knows when. 

“Do you like this?” Em runs her hand down the train of a navy blue dress and cranes her neck in the mirror. Sam’s conscious of the fact that Emily is significantly cooler than her, with her glossy black hair and her perfect manicure. And it’s obvious, from how natural she looks in the dress. 

“It’s gorgeous ,” Sam gushes, eyeing the glittering beads. She takes a look at the tag - $2,000 - that’s worth more than probably all of the clothes in her closet.

“No. It’s disgusting,” she resolves, and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“What? Em, it looks beautiful!” 

“Not the dress. It’s me.” Emily rolls her eyes and begins undoing the back. “I need to be perfect .” 

Sam can’t believe that she doesn’t consider herself perfect . When she thinks of her, perfect is all she can see. Sam’s seen the tests that litter her desk - Emily’s a genius - she doesn’t think that her GPA has dropped below a 4.0 ever since high school started. And she’s drop dead gorgeous too (and it wasn’t a matter of personal opinion either, because all the guys in their grade seemed to think so as well). 

Emily unloops the dress from her shoes and stuffs it into the hands of the store attendant. She’s only in her bra with the curtain open, but she seems so confident in her body that she doesn’t even care that there are other people around them. Sam blushes and her head reflexively turns away like it’s being pulled to the side by a string. 

“Wait,” Em calls to the store attendant, who’s half running back to her the moment she hears the younger girl’s voice. Emily’s looking Sam up and down with a hand on her hip, and her insecurities suddenly feel glaringly obvious. “This might look good on you , though.” 

Sam instantly wraps her arms around her body. “No, today is for you !” But Emily doesn’t listen, and she’s pushing her into the change room, and stuffing the dress into her arms. 

“Turn around,” Em says, and her cold hands on her back makes a shiver run up her spine. When she laces up the back of the dress up for her, the tips of her nails graze her bare skin and it makes Sam’s hairs stand on end. Emily stands close beside her, their faces next to each other so that they can both have a look in the mirror. Sam can feel the warmth of her cheek on hers, despite them not physically touching. 

“You’re really pretty, you know,” Emily says, running a hand through her hair. 

A memory of Josh pops up in her head against her will - the two of them on the porch at Mike’s birthday last year. “ You’re like, the most amazing girl I know, ” he says, and she feels like her heart has expanded the size of an elephant. She can feel her cheeks burn red and she can’t tell whether it’s because of Emily or the memory. 

It’s crazy, but she thinks that she actually agrees with Em, because the blue looks nice on her skin and it makes her realise that maybe she actually is pretty. Sam doesn’t recognise the girl staring back at her, but she’s convinced it’s not the same one who’s grown man shoulders from four days of swim practice a week. 

“Are you joking?” 

Emily looks at her like she’s got another eye growing in the middle of her forehead. “Don’t lie to me right now bitch, you know you’re pretty.” She’s standing close to her now, her face right up beside her so they’re both looking at her in the mirror. She can feel the warmth of her cheek burning against hers. With one of her hands, she pulls Sam’s hair into a low ponytail, and with the other she pulls two strands out. 

“Do your hair like this, okay?” She uses her finger to tilt Sam’s head to the side so they can look at the hair with the dress. Her hands graze the back of her neck and goosebumps run up her arms. When she spends time with Emily, Sam’s always self-conscious of being perceived. It’s much like the way she feels when she has a crush. “And wear drop earrings. You’ll look hot. ” 

That’s how she feels when she spends time with Emily – she feels hot , and cool , and everything that a teenage girl is meant to be. She’s turning sixteen soon, but in her head she’s still an awkward twelve year old - although she can’t be that awkward if she’s here with Em. 

Sam feels her phone buzz and there’s two texts: one from Hannah - hows the dress hunt going? and another from Elliot - What you doing today Sam? 

She snaps a quick pic and texts it back to her: Would love to get this dress if it wasn’t like a billion dollars :( She ignores the other. 

Emily sees her take a photo and she pulls out her phone. “Hold on, I need one of us too.”  

That night when she gets home, there’s a photo of her biting her tongue into a smirk while Em kisses her on the cheek posted on @emdavisxo. It’s amassed 200 likes and it hasn’t even been an hour yet. It makes her blush when she notices that Em’s chosen that one. It’s funny - she has to pinch herself when she thinks about the fact that she went out with Emily today. Their relationship is immortalised on her Instagram account, and it makes her feel like she’s special to Em - she doesn’t even have an Instagram post up of her and Jess. She thinks, maybe it wouldn’t be bad if she liked girls - maybe it wouldn’t be bad if she liked Em . But before that thought materialises, she scrolls through the likes to check whether there’s one from @joshwashington.

Since their shopping trip, Sam sees Emily more times in a week than she has ever seen her since middle school started. Em texts her during classes that they don’t share and sits with her in the classes that they do share, doodling pictures on Sam’s notes and swapping jackets (because they’re the exact same size!). After school, they hang around the mall and sip smoothies and Sam tells her about her parents’ messy marriage and Emily tells her about her love/hate relationship with her mother (she loves to hate her). It feels different, intimate and tender, not like her other friendships with girls. 

“Since when were you and Em so close?” Hannah asks, and she doesn’t know what to say. Jess is in the same boat, because she’s blowing up Emily’s phone every day, trying to figure out why she feels like she’s intruding whenever she hangs out with Sam and Em in a group. 

She’s eager to please, responding to each of Em’s texts immediately and never missing a FaceTime from her. She’s scared for the moment that her friendship (relationship?) will inevitably fall apart when one of them gets a boyfriend. But in the meantime, they share beds like children and swap clothes and Emily sends her i love you ! at the end of every night and she’s not sure if she means love or love . 

It seems all her thoughts are consumed with Em, because she’s beginning to send Elliot one word responses and it almost doesn’t hurt when she sees Josh walking around with a girl at school.

During spring break Em takes her on rides in her Lexus and they play loud music and pretend that they’re famous, honking at boys on the side of the road and sticking their tongues out when they call back to them. They shop down Rodeo, and despite being able to buy out a whole store with her dad’s credit card, she stuffs clothes in her bag and flirts with security guards to get away. It’s exhilarating being friends with her, like a drug with an endless high. Friends - maybe more. She doesn’t know. She’s never loved a girl before, but this is coming close to it. 

Sam doesn’t tell anyone that it’s her sixteenth birthday, but the twins know anyway. Hannah and Beth invite her for a sleepover, pretending like they have no idea, but surprise her with balloons and streamers strewn around the living room. They’re not doing much, just a girls night at the Washingtons’, but Sam’s heart still swells at the gesture. Emily and Jess make her a chocolate cake in the shape of a heart and We Love You Sam in bright red frosting, and they eat it together on the living room floor with plastic spoons. Something about the fact that Emily wrote her the words We Love You is flattering. She can’t tell whether she loves Emily too , or it’s just the fact that she’s so in awe of her that she doesn’t seem real. 

It’s the end of spring break, and Josh is nowhere to be seen. She didn’t expect him to come - obviously - it’s not a big party or anything anyway, just the girls sitting around and watching movies. Josh has an on-and-off girlfriend now – “I think they’ve been together the entire spring break,” Hannah says – a pretty girl named Liz who he’s always on the phone arguing with. He’s been with lots of girls, she’s sure, so Sam doesn’t know why this bristles her so much. 

They exchange texts every now and again; though not enough to constitute conversation - sometimes he sends her trailers to new horror movies he thinks they should see, and she sends him silly Instagram posts she imagines him chuckling at. Sam notices that whenever she texts him first, it’s with bated breath, only finding herself exhaling when he responds. It was nothing, though, she assured herself. Conversations between friends, if anything. When the conversations thin out to maybe a couple texts every few weeks, she realises it’s probably best to let it go. 

These days, she prefers to ignore him rather than get her heart riled up. They haven’t spoken in person lately. She can’t speak to him, not able to return his witty banter like she once used to. Sam can’t tell what’s between them, what’s wrong with them, why she hasn’t been able to talk to him properly since she got suspended last year for claiming his cigarettes were her’s. Sometimes when she feels her affections growing stronger for him, she piles over the feelings with overexertion. She’s been bouldering to take off the stress. 

The other day during her track meet, she saw him sitting on the bleachers and smoking a cigarette. His girlfriend, presumably, was next to him, arms crossed over her chest, each finger decorated with dark red nails. She’s so cool, in an effortless way, with a sheet of long dark hair down her back, so long that she could sit on it, and a cigarette in her own hand too. Josh is different now - he’s elusive and aloof and every time she sees him it’s like he’s on a completely different planet. Sam immediately runs a self-conscious down her shirt to smooth it out - she was comparably not cool, in her track team t-shirt and baggy shorts. He raised a hand to wave at her. Sam kept running. 

They’d run into each other at the Washington house last week - she was on her way out while he had just arrived home. 

“Sam-my!” he calls, raising a hand to high five her. He seems reinvigorated from the last time she saw him; his eyes are brighter and he’s got a wide smile plastered on his face. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

She doesn’t know why, but she ducks under his hand, mentioning something under her breath about needing to wake up early for track tomorrow. 

On the other hand, she can’t tell whether randomly thinking about a girl all the time means you have a crush on them. But she finds herself thinking about Emily every now and then, wondering what she’s doing and whether she’s thinking about the late nights they spent during spring break together. Sam doesn’t think she knows how to separate platonic love from romantic love. Actually, she doesn’t even know if there’s a difference. But whenever Em passes her by in the hallways and blows her a kiss or squeezes her on the arm, or sends her a snap of her outfit of the day, it makes her heartbeat quicken. Attention from Emily is different- it makes you feel special and chosen , like you’re the coolest girl in the world . Nonetheless, whether crush or not, she's glad because it puts Josh out of her head for a while. 

Jess sneaks a bottle of her mother’s red wine in her handbag, so they drink themselves to giggles - sans Sam, of course, who only has a couple, making sure they’re all being safe and tucking them into bed at the end of the night. By one in the morning, all the girls are tangled in each other in front of the TV, Jess and Emily sharing the couch and the twins and Sam on the pull-out mattress. Emily’s on her phone while Jess and the twins are fast asleep. Sam clears out the empty pizza boxes and glass bottles and makes her way to the kitchen, being sure to sweep the crumbs off the floor before she gets to bed. 

She’s cleaning up the kitchen counter and Emily drops a big black Saks bag in front of her. “I didn’t get to give you your birthday present.” 

Sam laughs. “Aw, Em, you shouldn’t have.” 

She sifts through the tissue paper and then, in protective plastic, she sees it- the navy blue satin of the dress she tried on. It's like there are magnets behind her lips, sticking her hands to her mouth. It’s the most expensive gift she’s ever received - and probably the most beautiful one too. Sam has to run her hands over the fabric once more to confirm to herself that it’s real. 

A twinge of guilt echoes through her stomach. She’s not like the other girls in the Hills, in the sense that she can’t so simply drop two thousand dollars on a dress for a friend’s birthday. She’s not like the other girls who can just get their father’s driver to pick her up from school instead of having to walk to the bus stop. It’s times like these that she feels so alien to the twins, Emily and Jess. “Emily. I can’t take this.” 

“It was nothing. It’s your birthday .” Em picks at her nails and shrugs. Sam’s suddenly aware of how the Tiffany bracelet that hangs off her wrist glints in the light. Sam doesn’t say anything. 

“ God, Sam. It’s a token for how much I care about you, or whatever, okay?” 

It’s something about this sentence that makes hot tears well up in her eyes. Sam reflexively wraps her arms around Emily’s shoulders and squeezes her tight. “You’re crazy . Thank you Em, seriously.” 

Emily only pushes her off softly and laughs. “Don’t be dramatic.” 

Sam sits up on the barstool beside her and crosses one leg over the other. Em’s phone is lying face down on the counter, but it buzzes every few seconds so that the vibrations are like a steady drum. She looks annoyed, and puts her phone on silent before stuffing it into her pocket. 

“Okay, miss popular,” Sam jokes, kicking her foot lightly. 

Em rolls her eyes. “ Ugh . Please. High school boys are losers.” 

“So you’re going to the dance alone, then?” Sam figures she would much rather spend time dancing with Emily all night than standing around in awkward silence with Elliot. 

“I don’t know, that Mike guy from French is kinda cute.” She pulls out her phone and opens up his account. There’s not much, just a mirror selfie of him shirtless and a picture with some friends by the pool. Sam doesn’t know what everyone sees in him - Em could do so much better. “He’s such a whore though. Anyways, what about your boy toy?”

Sam shuffles in her seat and pulls her legs up close to her so that she’s hugging her knees. “If I tell you, will you promise not to judge me?” 

“Bitch. Have you met me?”

She hesitates, for a bit. 

“ Sam ! Come on, you have to tell me now.” 

Sam takes a deep breath. She’s still a little woozy from the alcohol, but whatever’s left of it in her system gives her the courage to say things that she would never usually admit. “I don’t even think I like Elliot that much.” 

“Oh my god, you tease ,” Emily slaps her jokingly. “Okay, so who were you talking about when we played Never Have I Ever?”

Earlier that night, her only finger down in Never Have I Ever was for Hannah’s question - never have I ever loved a guy before. Typical Hannah, the hopeless romantic. Sam didn’t mean to, but her finger went down reflexively. She still loved Josh, despite every moment they spent not talking – the feelings were still there, no matter how hard she tried to separate herself from them. Jess and Em started teasing her about Elliot, but the twins, all the wiser, raised their eyebrows at her.

Hannah corners her in her bedroom that night, when she’s grabbing her stuff. “Tell me you don’t love my brother.” 

Sam stops what she’s doing and looks at her, mouth agape. She’s come to realise that she’s never had this conversation with her before. “ Well- -” 

“There is no chance the guy you love is Elliot, you don’t even know his favourite colour!” 

She’s worried that Hannah would be annoyed, but she’s looking at Sam with the biggest smile on her face.

“ Han !” Sam groans, and covers her face with her pillow. “It’s not like that. Not anymore. It was like, ages ago. He has a girlfriend now anyway.” 

Hannah rolls her eyes and smacks her on the head with a pillow. “He only got a girlfriend because he was getting over you, dummy!” 

When she says that, Sam feels like her heart has frozen up and then been smashed to a million pieces. It feels like pins and needles have covered every surface of her body, crept up her spine and into her head. “He liked me?” 

Right now she’s not thinking about Emily, but thinking of him. 

“I thought you knew !” 

Sam stuffs her face in the pillow and groans. “Oh my god , I’m such an idiot.”

“Stop. For real? I knew it.” When she tells Em that it’s Josh, her hands fly to her face and she gasps. “You guys always act so weird whenever you hang out.” 

“And you know what’s even more insane?” Sam giggles and closes her eyes, tilting her head back. “I haven’t even kissed anyone yet.” 

“Sam! No way.” 

“Like I have no idea — how do you know your teeth aren’t gonna clash or anything?” She feels a little stupid, but it makes her happy to tell someone. Sam’s been pretending to Jess and Em that she kissed someone back at summer camp when she was fourteen for the last two years. 

Emily raises her eyebrows, and looks down at her lips, then back at her eyes. Of course, she’s probably thinking about how childish it is that she’s sixteen and never been kissed. Em’s probably kissed tons of guys, in the back of cars or in bedrooms at parties, things that Sam could never have the courage to do. Sam braces herself for the reaction - she’s always thinking about what Emily’s thinking, thinking about whether she’s judging her secretly or not. What she said next is the last thing that Sam expected. 

“Let me show you, okay?” 

Sam is at a loss for words. It’s like her heart beat has stopped and steadied to a slow, agonising pace that makes her feel like she’s submerged under water. She’s trying to formulate something, but Em quickly adds —

“But don’t get all lezzy up on me bitch.” The word makes her grimace. Her breathing is all that her brain can focus on. “I’m just showing you how it is.” 

She doesn’t want to confront whatever feelings might be there for Emily. It’s all muddled up in her head, and bringing another person into the equation would only make it worse. She can’t even make sense of her feelings for Josh or Elliot. But her pull is so strong that it makes her entire body feel like it’s on fire. 

“Okay, show me,” she says quietly.

It’s slow and soft and the world seems quiet, like it’s stopped to make time for this moment. They lock eyes before Emily leans in and drags Sam’s hair out of her face. Her lips are sweet with the taste of alcohol and lip gloss, and it’s like flowers have bloomed out of her heart and up her throat. When she pulls away it’s abrupt and Emily’s looking into her eyes like it was the funniest thing to have ever occurred. 

“Oh my god , Sam!” Emily’s giggling and tossing her hair back. “I can’t believe we just did that.” 

After Emily kisses her, there’s nothing else she can think about. It takes her everything not to grab her face and do it again. She’s not sure if she likes Emily or if she likes kissing, but she finds herself replaying the memory over and over in her head until it’s burned into her brain. 

She gets a phone call a couple of days later, it’s nine o’clock at night, and she’s getting ready to go to bed. Sam picks up the phone and sets it down on the table as she changes into her pyjamas. 

“Hey, Sam,” Emily’s voice crackles through the phone and she feels her heart quicken. 

“Hey Em,” she tried to appear nonchalant and occupied. “What’s up?” 

“I just wanted to say… I’m seeing Mike now.” 

It’s like the universe doesn’t want Sam to win. Like love isn’t in the cards for her, like it’s never been, not for girls like her who have to pick up the pieces of shattered hearts all around her and stick them back together.  

“Oh… Oh, okay. Wow, um- that’s great Em!” She tries her best to sound enthusiastic for her friend. Yes, her friend - that’s what she was. 

“No hard feelings, right Sam?” she says. “I just … Like, I don’t like girls like that. I just wanted to see what it was like… You get it, right?” 

It feels like somebody has shot her a million times. 

“Oh, um, yeah- No, totally, I was thinking the same thing.” 

“Yeah, we were so drunk the other night, right?”

Sam tries to bite back the sting of rejection. “Mm, yeah, soo drunk.” 

The sound of her fan hums in the background. It drags out the pause between their conversation even longer.

“Anyways, um. We’re still getting ready together at Hannah’s on Friday, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there!” It takes all of her to infuse enthusiasm into her words so that Em can’t hear her voice cracking. 

“Okay, well… I’ll talk to you later.” Another long pause. “Love you, Sam.” 

She hangs up. 

How do you tell someone that you’re heartbroken, without there never being a relationship in the first place? She can’t confide in anyone – nobody knows about her and Emily except Emily, and she can’t bring herself to verbalise anything that happened. It’s like their time together was sacred, and bringing it to light will only destroy it. Sam needs Hannah. She FaceTimes her, and then calls her, and then calls her again and no answer. She wants the ground to swallow her whole, she wants the walls to close in on her and give her a hug and tell her it’s going to be alright. 

Her phone begins to buzz and she quickly picks it up, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Han?” 

“Sam?” It’s not Hannah, but Josh. “Sorry, Han’s in the shower. I hope you don’t mind that I picked up, I just, uh, thought it was important because you called a few times.” 

He looks at her closely, and his face morphs into concern. “Oh shit, Sam?! Are you okay? Why are you crying?” 

She can’t say anything, just stuffs her face into her arm. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s fine. Just tell Hannah I need her.” 

“Fuck, Sam,” his eyebrows are furrowed, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m coming over there, okay?”  

That night, Josh picks her up and they sit in the theatre room at the Washington Estate, watching old horror movies all night. Hannah and Beth bracket her and the three of them share the one heated blanket and snacks, but they go up to bed after midnight. Josh doesn’t leave her side once, except to move into the empty space that Hannah had left when she goes up to her bedroom. She doesn’t want to talk, and he doesn’t ask questions, but the twins find them the next morning tangled in each other, Josh with an arm around her and Sam sleeping in his lap. It's like no matter how much the universe wants to separate them, they'll always find their way back to each other, like there's an invisible elastic tying them together, snapping back into place when it stretches too far.