Archive of Our Own ^beta

She had been wondering how long it was going to take. It had been, what? Weeks now? A couple months at least, she was sure.

Every few days, she would have to put up with that little whore coming to her door bearing a basket of those plastic-looking muffins, seeking entry into her house and home and trying to make like she was actually part of the family.

And every few days, she would be already seated at her outside table and waiting meet that little hussy on her porch to bar any further intrusion onto her property.

The tramp was undaunted, however. Completely ignoring the very clear signs that she was not wanted, she would smile brightly as she set her trashy little basket of equally horrible muffins on the table, sit down in the only other chair—the one she always made sure was the rusting, nearly broken one that had not been cleaned in the past year—and attempt to make small-talk as her clearly unwilling hostess simply stared blankly at her in silence and never so much as breathed a word or twitched in the direction of the muffins.

Eventually, that little whore would get the hint that she wasn’t wanted and give up after an hour or so of completely one-sided conversation, make some flimsy reason to excuse herself, and leave her revolting pile of muffins behind, trying to delude herself into thinking that it’d be enjoyed after she was gone instead of being immediately tossed away like the previous dozen or so batches had been.

This same song and dance had been going on for at least a couple months, she was sure, and she had some satisfaction in seeing that it was finally starting to wear on the harlot.

Perhaps it was cruel of her to play this game, but she was still so very much a bitter woman, after all, and she didn’t need any more reminders.

Deep down, she knew that she couldn’t necessarily fault her for reminding her of everything she lost and would never have again.

But she certainly could fault her for everything else. And fault she did.

Someone had to hold the little whore responsible for everything she ruined. Might as well be her. Because at least someone would remember the losing side in this little travesty called “true love”, which was apparently synonymous with “betrayal” nowadays, or at least that’s how it seemed to her. She didn’t care what they wanted to call it. You could call horseshit “rose petals” and it’d still smell just as horrible. And she was going to remind them of that fact. Every. Damn. Day.

She was bitter for a reason, after all.

But it does take two to tango, she remembered. Which led to the other party involved. Him. The one she really wanted to talk to. That foolish, foolish boy who found it all too easy to throw everything else to the wayside for some girl he hadn’t even known. Maybe she should feel guilty for using the girl in such a manner, but then again, the girl obviously held no guilt for her actions, so she found herself hard-pressed to spare the harlot any sympathy.

Can’t sympathize with an unfeeling home-wrecker, after all.

So she was cruel. Vindictive. Refusing to grace her with so much as a word as she let her stony silence say everything for her. If it made the hussy feel like dirt, well…that was simply a bonus. One she almost reveled in…okay, openly reveled in. But her true reason for it all was that by doing so, she knew it would only be a matter of time before the tramp would go crying to him, and he would come running to her.

And sure enough, it wasn’t even a few hours later that Sam greeted her at her door with a glare.

“We need to talk.” Were the first words out his mouth as he pushed past her and into her living room, and it would have taken more strength than she was willing to spare to hold back on rolling her eyes.

So roll them she did.

“Hello, Sam.” She greeted, sarcastically. “Nice to see you, too.”

It only took three months of silent-shunning the little slut before he bothered to approach her—no doubt at her behest or as a result of her whining, but hey, at least he finally got the balls to show his face to the woman he left behind.

“Don’t you even start with me!” He hissed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I’ve done the only thing that would get you to show your face here. You haven’t been by to speak to me in months, Sam. The only reason you’re even here now is because I upset your little whore.”

“Don’t call her that!” He growled, raising his clenched fist.

Her eyes narrowed. “Resorting to threats now?”

Catching himself, he forced himself to calm down and took a seat at the table. “No, I just…you know how I feel about her…”

She took the seat across from him without saying anything about his forced presence in her home. “No, Sam. I really don’t. Whatever excuses you tell to fool yourself and your little cronies won’t work on me.”

“They’re not excuses! And they’re not my ‘cronies’! Look, there’s a lot going on you don’t know about—”

“Don’t I?“ She asked incredulously, eyebrow raised. "Just because you haven’t been by to see me doesn’t mean I haven’t been seeing you. And your behavior is simply deplorable.”

He stiffened. “What?”

“I’ve seen how you act in town. I’ve seen the way you strut around like you own everything there is and how you treat others. I’ve seen you and your pack of muscle-bound flunkies running around shirtless like you’ve got something to prove. And I have seen the way you treat those girls! It’s sickening, Sam.”

“It’s not—!”

“You kiss her scars like they’re some sort of trophy!“ She only just held out from fully shouting, still making her complete disgust evident. "What are they supposed to be, some symbol of your love? How did she really get them then, if you consider her scars worth kissing more than her lips? And you do that in public and then turn right around and growl—actually physically growl at anybody else who even dares to look at them as though they’re infringing on something private just for being there!”

“It makes her uncomfortable!” He exclaimed, defensively.

“And your kissing them doesn’t?”

Sam started to growl, glaring at her in growing anger. “Don’t talk like you actually care about her now after how you treated her!”

If that was the way he wanted to play, she could get angry, too.

“After how I treated her?” She bristled. “She comes here, to my house, acting like we’re family and seeking my blessing in doing something she knows is wrong and hurtful. And now you come here, storming in like a big ape, demanding my approval of these actions—yours and hers—like you’ve completely ignored everything we’ve had to go through already? Have you forgotten, Sam? Or do you just not care how seeing you with her makes me feel?”

“This isn’t about you!” He shouted.

“You’re right. This is about her. Everything with you seems to be about her nowadays.“ She gave a small sigh and turned away to look out the window. "It kind of says something when no amount of effort on my part can get you to so much as call me more than every dozen or so weeks when you can be bothered to remember, but making her so much as frown will send you to my doorstep in a rage within a couple of hours. Tell me, how long DID it take her to break down and finally tell you how ‘mean’ I was being?”

“You’re being cruel!”

“And you’re not?” She hissed back, causing him to lean back slightly. “Bad enough to ditch one girl for another—her COUSIN, no less—but to parade your relationship around the way you have…how is that not cruel? At least your father had the courtesy to leave.”

“Don’t you DARE bring him into this!”

“How can I not when you’re doing the exact same thing?”

“It’s not the same! I’m NOTHING like him!” He shouted, rising to his feet and glaring down at her. “Just because you’re angry about us doesn’t give you any right to compare me to him! It’s not Emily’s fault what happened and you have to stop blaming her!”

“Enough.” She snarled back, not about to leave her seat and give him the impression she was in any way intimidated. “You think you have any right to just storm in here and make demands? The rest of the reservation may allow you to bully them, Sam, but you will not come into my house and act this way with me.”

“I don’t bully anyone!” He exclaimed, slamming his palms on the table.

She followed suit, slamming her own palms on the table and forcing herself to stand. “Don’t you? You go around with a swagger like you’re king of the reservation and everyone seems to accommodate you—not because you somehow deserve it, but because they’re scared. What is that supposed to tell me, Sam, when people are scared of you? Scared of even slightly upsetting you?”

That actually seemed to stun him and make him back off, both figuratively and literally as he also took a couple steps back and away from her and the table. “I…they don’t…” He shook his head. “I’m doing important things! Everyone else seems to understand that, why can’t you?”

“Important? How, exactly, is any of this supposed to be important to anybody but yourself?”

He hesitated at that, seeming to want to tell her something but unable to bring himself to.

“I can’t.”

A beat.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t tell you.”

She sighed, sadly.

It seemed there was nothing else for it, then.

“Against all my hopes…it seems like you are exactly like your father after all, Sam.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it? You left the woman who loved you for a…a slut that you only just met!“

"I told you, DON’T CALL HER THAT!”

But she only continued on like she didn’t even hear him. “The only difference is that he, at least, had the limited grace to run off afterwards where as YOU are sticking around and shoving your ‘oh so perfect’ romance in everyone’s faces! And THEN you have the gall to wonder WHY anyone would be upset with you?! It’s like you can’t get enough of showing off how happy you are, even as you’re making people around you miserable! Do you just ignore the effects of your actions, Sam, or do you get off on the harm you inflict on others?”

“I’m not hurting anyone!”

“Aren’t you? Can you really look me in the eyes and say that? After Emily? After everything?“

He couldn’t. She knew he couldn’t and he didn’t even have the grace to even try to look at her.

"And what about me, Sam? What is it supposed to tell me when you go and do shit like this? Do you have any idea how much of a slap in the face that was? That after everything we’d been through together…all that time spent trying to help you get past what your father did, to show you that you don’t have to be that man…and you end up doing the exact same thing!”

“It’s not the same!” He insisted, sounding weak to both their ears.

She grit her teeth and looked away from him. “You’re right, it’s worse. He just left without a word. But you? You flaunt what you’ve done like it’s something to aspire to—to actually be proud of! And you’re completely shameless about it! Don’t you feel even the least bit bad about any of it?”

“I do! You have no idea how I felt!” His words were hollow-sounding. All about him. All about how he felt. No thought or consideration to anyone else or what he was doing to them.

And she just couldn’t stand it. What happened to him? What happened to her Sam?

“No, I certainly don’t. And I’m not sure I really want to.” She looked up at him, sadly. “Honestly…I don’t know what’s happened to you, Sam. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“You don’t.” He muttered, darkly, knowing full well she heard him.

She forced herself to ignore the slight. “But I can’t help but notice how this all started when you met her. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what made you think you had to drop everything for her. But I do know that you’ve changed, and certainly not for the better. I don’t like what she’s done to you.”

“What she’s—she hasn’t done anything to me! It’s what she’s done for me!” He struggled momentarily for a way to explain it that would make sense to her. “She…she’s like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time!”

“Forgetting that looking at the sun is bad for your eyes.” She quipped, much to his annoyance.

“It’s like a collector finding an undiscovered Da Vinci!”

“So this is just a hobby to you?”

“What? No! It’s…it’s like a mother looking into the face of her newborn child!”

“…Incest then.”

“Dammit, you know that’s not what I mean!” He exclaimed in frustration.

“No, I really don’t. Hell, I don’t think YOU even know what you mean. Sounds like you’re confusing a number of different types of ‘love’ to excuse your bullshit.”

“She’s my everything.” He whispered.

She stared at him in shock before shutting her eyes and breathing deeply to calm herself. After a moment, she spoke. “Then why are you here, Sam? Because if she’s supposed to be your ‘everything’, then you don’t need anyone else and you certainly don’t need me.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Isn’t it? You’ve made it quite clear that she’s the only thing you care about anymore. Are we even living in the same world, Sam?”

“I’m living in the real world!” He hissed. “You’re the one refusing to accept it because you can’t let go of the past that’s dead and buried!”

Her eyes widened in shock and hurt.

“The past is over and done with. Has been for a long time now. You can’t let that go and move on! You’re still so stuck in what used to be that you can’t even be happy for others when they find true happiness of their own! You’re selfish and you want everyone to be miserable with you! If you want to hold onto your silly little grudge, that’s YOUR problem, not mine! Maybe there was a REASON you were left behind!” Barely two seconds after shouting it, his eyes widened in shock, realizing just what he had said.

But he didn’t deny it. He didn’t apologize for it.

That was…how he truly thought.

She stared at him in growing horror. She never believed he’d go there. Never thought he’d openly use the past against her like this. That he would simply shrug it all off as inconsequential. That he would outright intentionally try to hurt her like this.

And that he would accuse HER of being the selfish one, of being deserving of the pain inflicted on her, completely ignoring what he was doing. How hypocritical he was being…

How…

Just.

Like.

Him.

And that’s what hurt the worst.

He took a breath and relaxed when she didn’t reply, believing that she had finally broken.

He knew she loved him enough to want to still be part of his life no matter what. But he couldn’t have a life that was divided—not when it came to Emily. There was only one thing he could do.

So he built up his courage and put his foot down. The ball was in his court. He had the power now. “This is how things are going to be.” He stated, flatly, clearly leaving no room for argument. “She is the love of my life. She is the one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Any future I have from here on out is going to involve her. I love you, that hasn’t changed. I want you to be there with me. But if you want to remain in any part of my life…you’re going to have to accept Emily in it, too.”

He wanted her to back down. To apologize and give in.

But he’d underestimated her. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Because it’s about time he understood—REALLY understood—that his choices had consequences, and this would simply be one in a long, ever-growing line of them.

And she was just bitter enough to be the one to teach him.

“Then that’s a deal I simply cannot accept.”

The look of honest shock on his face would have had her laughing had the situation been different. It lasted less than a second before he managed to hide it, but she saw the flash of surprise and hurt. He’d truly expected her to choose her love for him over anything else.

And normally, she probably would have. But he’d just crossed a line. He’d ignored her, insulted her, discounted her feelings, used their shared history to intentionally hurt her, and then proceeded to shove an ultimatum on her, fully expecting to get his way.

He clearly didn’t know her well. Or remember. She was so certain he used to actually care…before that whore came along, at least.

But if she couldn’t wake him up from this…whatever this was, she’d rather he simply walk away for good.

Because it hurt slightly less to lose him completely than it did to have him standing right in front of her and know he wasn’t really there.

She had to steel herself and draw on every last bit of strength and resolve she had for what she was about to do.

But she would not—could not regret it.

She could only regret that he had forced things to come to this.

“You speak as though you have no other choice to even consider. That Emily is the end all-be all only option for you. And if you want to throw your life away to a harlot who’ll toss any sense of loyalty, standards, or family bonds to the wayside, then have at it. That’s your choice, and you’ll have to live with it.“

She shot him a glare before he could get a word out, letting him know that she was nowhere near finished.

"But while you may not have any better options, I sure as hell do. And now I no longer see any reason not to take them.” She stood to her full height, staring him straight in the eyes despite his taller and broader stature, and felt an inner surge of vindictiveness when he actually seemed to waver despite having a good extra foot and a half on her.

“You stormed in here like you had any right to this place after you abandoned it,” She stated with a hard edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before. “And started giving me ultimatums as though you had any leg left to stand on. Rather than even try to talk to me or have any understanding for what you know I’ve experienced—what we both experienced, you make demands of me and throw a temper tantrum like a child. And then you have the nerve to wonder why I don’t want either of you around?”

His eyes widened in shock. “You…you don’t want me around? But…wasn’t all that just your way of getting me here?”

“Yes, it was.” She confirmed with a nod. “But only to see if there was anything salvageable in the boy I once knew…and if not, then to say goodbye.”

“You don’t mean that.” Finally, a tinge of desperation came through in his voice and words.

“I mean every word. I’m not a glutton for punishment, Sam. I’m not going to keep running after you hoping that today will be the day you finally look away from her for five seconds to even notice that there are other people who love you.”

She closed her eyes, holding up her hands and looking like she was wanting to wring something with them.

“It’s like you’ve forgotten that anyone else exists—that anyone else has any right to express themselves differently than you. It’s just you and her, living in your own little bubble of bliss and whatever it is you call ‘love’, protected by your your complete ignorance and self-perpetuated belief that you’re the only ones who know anything about the world and the only ones with any true worth or any right to exert yourselves within it. How selfish can you be? And for you to come here, demanding my compliance with this view and to just…slap me in the face like that, using what you know to outright try to hurt me…” She felt like she was losing air. She couldn’t stop shaking, but she forced her hands to lower, grasping one wrist with the other hand and bringing them both to her chest in some unconscious attempt to cover a wound that was completely internal.

She lost the love of her life once and managed to survive.

“I have had to put up with a lot of terrible things throughout the years. But not this. Not from you. I’ve already had one Joshua Uley in my life, I don’t need another.”

He choked, suddenly realizing just what he’s done. “You…you don’t mean that…”

“You’re the one who drew the line, Sam. You made your choice. Now I’m making mine. Get out of my house.”

“Mom, please!”

“OUT.”

She could survive losing her son, too.

Because she was still so very much a bitter woman.