Come and Get It

Sammie Harris's life has been filled with tragedy ever since she could remember. When she was ten, her father was shot by her older brother for reasons she won't tell. After that her mother became addicted to drugs and sex. All of these brought back mental and physical abuse to her household.
One summer's day, she decided that she was through...
That was when she met the new boy in town...the boy with the secret...

WARNING::: This book contains sexual hinting and scenes, talking and participation in drug use, the use of alcohol, and a large amount of cussing.


Read sensibly. Let me know what you think and tell me if you'd like for me to continue. (That means to comment)


2. "Don't you just love the smell of weed in the morning...?"

Sammie's POV


My dreams are usually nightmares... Well, memories, I guess you'd say. Memories of that night. It haunted me...even six years after it happened. 

Sometimes I would see myself in the same situation, but in a different setting and time. But this dream... It was different. 

I was running in a forest of some kind. I didn't know what from, but the constant fear rolling in my stomach told me that I didn't need to know at the moment.

My stamina began to lessen, and my body suddenly became weak.

I couldn't run anymore... 

It hurt too much. 

I was grabbed at that moment, and drug to the ground. I screamed, trying to get out of the stranger's grasp.

I looked up, and met the light blue, glowing eyes of a dirty and very bloody teenage boy. He looked about my age. I gasped as he spoke- only one word coming out of his mouth.


I sat up in bed, my body lathered with sweat. My heart beat against my rib cage as my eyes darted around the room. With a small sigh of relief, I plopped back down on my pillow, my hands over my face as I calmed myself.

"It was just a dream..." I whispered to myself, "Juuuust a creepy, fucked up dream... Breathe..." 

I heard my bedroom door open, and saw Ronald peek his head inside. His pale blue eyes lightened once he saw that I was awake.

"Hey. Your dork club just called. They want to meet up at the park." He told me.

I sat up, frowning, "They aren't a dork club. They are normal human beings, Ron." 

He rolled his eyes, "Eh, whatever. Just came to tell you." With that, he shut the door.

I threw my pillow at the door as he was closing it. Looking over, I saw that it was 9:07 in the morning. That explained my grumpiness...

"Only my friends would want to meet up at nine o'clock in the morning." I mumbled before getting out of my small bed and walking out of my room and into the bathroom across the hall. 

After the...accident, we did move. We just moved to a small town in Minnesota in a shitty neighborhood where all the neighbors are drug dealers or rapists/pedophiles. My dream home...right? Yeah... My mom just moved us here cause her drug dealing boyfriend lives across the street. They've been dating for two months, and he already says they are in love. I know that the only things my mother 'loves' about him is his penis and his backyard garden of Mary Jane. Not to mention the fact that the man hates me as much as she does. I think it's the drugs...because I have never done a thing to that man. I haven't even talked to him but once. And that was the introduction.

I didn't care though... If he's at the house, she ignores me. And the more of that, the better...

After I showered and brushed my teeth, I began to brush my hair. My hair was a light blonde with a few streaks of blue and purple in it. I fiddled with the tangles as my eyes traveled down to the bruise on my collar. I stared at it for a moment before I snapped back into reality. 

With a sigh, I reached under the sink, and pulled out my little makeup bag. I covered the bruise the best I could, wincing after each touch.

I couldn't let my friends see it. They had yet to know about my mother's beatings...

Ronald hardly knew about them. I mean, sure, he knew that she'd smacked me a few times but he didn't know what happened after he went to bed. I wasn't planning on telling him anytime soon either.

I applied little makeup to my face, only covering the light scars that my mother had caused to my cheeks. After thoroughly brushing through my hair, I went into my room and searched through my closet for something to wear. While reaching upward, I noticed a yellowing bruise that I hadn't seen before just on the crook of my arm. 

I sighed, and pulled out a thin, long-sleeved grey top. Along with that, I grabbed some comfortable leggings to wear with it. After I dressed, I slipped a few socks out of my dresser and pulled them on my feet, doing the same with my dirty black converses. I pulled my hair into a bun, and then I was ready to go. 

As I walked out of the hall and into the living room, I saw that my mom had passed out on the couch again. A slow sigh escaped my lips as I leaned down and kissed her cheek. I crinkled my nose as I straightened up. Her breath reeked of weed. I sadly frowned. Despite the beatings, the way I talked about her, and the way I acted towards her, I still loved and cared about her... It was just the type of person I had come to be.

I was mean on the outside and sweet on the inside. If you were lucky, you could get through my tough shield. Most weren't too lucky though... 

With a whispered goodbye, I headed out the door to meet the warm, humid air of summer. 

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