by Morgan Rice
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sam was still reeling.
That scene inside the mobile home had been so intense, he still couldn't process it. That creep. The knife. The struggle. His cheek. And then Samantha. Killing him like that. It was unbelievable. Who was she?
As he sat in the roadside diner, across from her in a booth, he looked her over. He was more attracted to her than ever - but also wary now. Cautious. She looked totally relaxed, sipping on her vanilla milkshake, and he couldn't understand. Was this the same chick? Here she was, this totally cool and hot, awesome chick, who he loved hanging out with - and yet she had also been that crazy, psycho girl that totally killed that creep without even blinking an eye. Had she really killed him?
It had all gone down so quickly, and the place was so dark, he couldn't even really tell what had happened, exactly. But he remembered the noise, that sickening crack when she twisted his neck. And he remembered seeing the guy hit the ground, totally limp. The dude looked dead to him. But he couldn't say for sure. Maybe she'd just knocked him out. But still. How did she do that? That dude was strong. And he had a knife.
For the millionth time, he hated himself. He had been so stupid. Naive. How could he have really believed him, have fallen for an internet predator? Was he really such an idiot? What was he thinking? He felt so ashamed. More than anything, he felt more convinced than ever that he'd never find his Dad.
On top of it all, he'd dragged Samantha into it. And worse, he didn't even protect her. She'd had to protect him. How embarrassing. She must think he was a real jerk.
He worried that she'd just take off. He couldn't blame her.
"You OK?" she asked, looking at his cheek.
He remembered, and he reached up, and pulled off the paper towel stuck to his face. He checked it. The bleeding had slowed - but it still hurt like hell.
"Yeah," he said, then looked her over. He noticed she wasn't bruised at all. "So, like, how did you do that back there? I mean, kick that guy's ass?"
She shrugged. "I studied karate most my life. Hope it didn't freak you out. But that guy was dangerous, and I didn't want to take any chances. It was just a really easy move that I did on him. I can teach you. "
She had a way of always making him feel better. It was like she knew what he was thinking, and knew how to put him at ease. It was incredible. All of his worries flew out the window.
"I'm really sorry," he said. "I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I took you there. "
"Hey," she said, "we wanted to take a drive anyway, right?"
He stared at her, and then they both burst out laughing.
The tension in the air lifted.
Sam reached out, and took a big bite of his untouched burger, and as he did, Samantha suddenly stared at his wrist. She reached up and grabbed it with her icy hands.
Sam lowered the burger in mid-bite, and wondered what she was doing. She pulled his wrist closer to her, and stared at it. His watch. She was staring at his watch.
As she did, her expression changed. She seemed totally serious now. Transfixed.
"What?" he finally asked.
"Where did you get this?" she asked, deadly serious.
He looked at his watch. He had totally forgotten he was even wearing it. He'd always worn it, ever since he was a kid. It was like a part of him, and he didn't even realize when he had it on. It was a weird-looking watch, he had to give her that. But still, he couldn't understand why she was so obsessed with it.
"It was my dad's," he said. "Or at least, I think it was. I was too young to remember. I've always had it. "
Sam looked at it himself now, curious. It was encased in some kind of weird metal - he'd always thought it was some kind of platinum - and it had these weird carvings all along the side. It actually looked ancient, and it ticked time in a weird way. It was actually pretty weird that he'd never had to wind it once, or change the battery. It just always ticked, and always told time perfectly.
She ran her fingers along it.
"Here," he said, taking it off. "Go ahead. Check it out. Try it on, if you want. There's this really cool stuff on the back. I was never able to figure out what it meant," he said, handing it to her.
She look like a kid in a candy store as he placed it on her palm. She turned it over, and looked at it carefully, and her eyes opened wide. She seemed genuinely surprised.
"What is it? Can you read it? I think it's like. . . French or something," he said.
"It's Latin," she corrected in a whisper, breathlessly.
She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes staring right at him, opened wide with surprise and excitement.
"It means: the Rose and the Thorn meet in Salem. "
