Daughter of the Refuge

Chapter Twelve

^^^The best video my peeps;)

Okay so I wasn't going to update for a while because I'm trying to get ahead in my writing, but I got my braces put on today and feel like crap so I thought publishing might make me feel a little bit better. So here's chapter twelve! Enjoy:)

Samantha knew he had been following her. It had taken quite a while to realize, but eventually she did. Thankfully, by the time she noticed, she was able to change her course and head to the one place that she knew would get him off her tail. 

She hadn't been back at her old house in four years, but nothing had changed. It was still the broken, disastrous house that her family had fallen apart in. She didn't want to spend a lot of time in it, but it was as if the moment she was back inside, the memories drew her in and she couldn't escape. 

Her hands trailed the dim patterns of the wallpaper as she made her way down the hall to her old bedroom. It was exactly as she had left it the last time she had been inside. Her bed, which was covered in dust, still had the large dark-green quilt that her mother had sewn by hand for her fifth birthday. Her small desk still had papers and ink spilling off it onto the dark carpet that covered the surface of the floor. She paused when she got to her chest and gently eased it open. 

Inside were all the things that she had treasured as a child, her doll, her mother's journal, the piece of cloth that her mother had used to teach her how to sew. Needless to say, that was one lesson that Samantha never took much interest in. 

But something else caught her eye. It was a broken piece of glass. Her eyes hardened as she reached into the box and pulled it from its spot between a stack of clothes, ones that were far too small to fit her, and her old music box. She turned it over in her hand, a million emotions coursing through her as she gazed down at it. She slammed her eyes shut and clenched it in her fist, the broken edges cutting into her palm, but the pain was relieving. Relieving because it showed that something could hurt worse than the pain she felt on the inside. 

She grabbed her old fabric bag from the chest and quickly began stuffing the pages from her desk into the bag. She knew she would need them later. As for the glass, she shoved it in her pocket and walked out of the room, her head held high, challenging her emotions to have her do anything else. 

She stopped at her father's office and grabbed anything that she thought would be useful and made her way out of the house, ignoring the boy who stood by, watching her with evident curiosity. To her utter relief, he entered the house, leaving her the opportunity to return to Jada's house. 

And she probably would have made it there without any more incidents, until she saw a figure cross the street in front of her, a younger boy trailing at their heels. As the two came closer, Samantha immediately recognized the girl and drew to a halt, a fire burning in her eyes. When the girl caught sight of the person stopped before, she too halted and ran a hand down her arm in nervousness. 

"Can I help yous?" She asked rather harshly, the impatience in her tone not matching the doubt in her eyes. Samantha scoffed. 

"Yeah actually. I 'ave some questions." The girl glanced down at her companion who was currently two paces in front of the girl, a fiery glare in his eyes, aimed directly at Samantha. 

"Skipper, it's alright. I'll catch up with ya later," she said, gently pushing the boy away from her. 

"I-" He went to protest, but the girl cut him off.

"I've got dis," she said, giving him a hard look. He dropped his head before running off down the street. 

"Samantha," she said.