"Sammy, if you would just take the medicine-"

"Shut up, Cameron!" Samara glared through the glass at the woman who had the gall to call herself Samara's mother. "Would you just shut up!"

"Sammy, don't talk to me like that! I'm your mother! And if you would just take that medicine they give you then you would be able to get out of here!"

Samara gripped the phone in her hand even harder. Seeing Cameron always had this effect on her. She got angry, her head clouded up, and she made stupid decisions and said stupid things. "Have you ever though maybe I don't wanna leave? Maybe I wanna stay here! Maybe I like it here, and maybe that medicine doesn't fucking work!"

Cameron gave her a glare of her own. "What kind of fucking psychopath likes mental institutions, Sammy? Do you even hear yourself? What the hell could you possibly like about this place?"

"More people care about me here! I have friends here!"

"Dr. Loomis spoke to me, Sammy! He said the only friends you have here are the nurses and even they don't like you!"

"He's a liar! As hard as it is to believe somebody here likes me!"

"Then tell me who they are! You can't do that, can you? Because they don't exist!"

"You bitch!" Samara slammed her hand down on the table and got as close to the window as she could. "His name is Michael and I like him too! He's a perfect man and he's perfect for me! We've even kissed!"

... She'd always had a problem with lying...

"What the hell!" Cameron gave her this totally disgusted look as she inched back away from the thin sheet of glass separating her from her daughter. "I don't believe you! You really are insane!"

"You've been saying that for years, Cameron! You've been telling me how crazy I am for five years! What the hell changed to make you just state that? Because I kissed someone? Huh?"

"You're a slut, Sammy! I don't get how you can live with yourself! You whore!"

Samara leaned forward. "You won't be saying that when I get outta here and kill you and your fucking son in your fucking sleep!" With that, she slammed the phone back onto the wall and turned her back.

A nurse escorted her away, telling Cameron she needed to leave. Taking the shackles on her hands without fuss and walking down the hall, she was still fuming at the woman who had enough nerve to call herself Samara's mother.

"There is no way I'm related to that woman," she huffed under her breath.

"Almost there," the nurse, Andrea, said, leading Samara to her room.

"Can I please go see Michael?" Samara asked, irritated. "I haven't seen him for two days. Dr. Loomis said it was alright for us to be together. I was helping him finish an art project."

Andrea sighed, but veered off to Michael's room. "Fine. I'll inform him of this and you'll only be staying an hour."

"Hey, I'm chained up in a mental institution. I take what I can get."

Andrea led Samara down the hall to Michael's room. The smooth black gloss of his name over the silver plating was a welcome tranquilizer to Samara's frazzled mind. She walked inside, greeting Michael with a silent smile as Andrea carefully undid the chains. She placed them near the door and sat, nodding at Michael. "Go on, Samara, you have an hour. Don't waste it."

Samara nodded back and walked over, sitting down in one fluid motion across from Michael at the coffee table. "Good afternoon, Michael." She reached across the table and grabbed a piece of newspaper, beginning to dip it in glue and help Michael with the new mask.

He slid the notebook over to her. Good afternoon, Samara. I can't help but notice you're doing that quite angrily. Are you upset?

She blew her bangs up and laid another piece of mâché over the mask, more carefully this time. "My whore of a mother came to talk to me today."

Oh? How did it go?

"She always pisses me off. She wants me to take that damn medicine they give me so I can get out of here. Umm, hello, maybe I wanna stay here. Duh."

I see. I'm sorry she made you angry. I would kill her if I knew where she lived.

"Pshh, leave that to me, please." She dipped another strip of newspaper into the glue. "I want to finish her off myself, along with my dumbass brother. Can you believe, she didn't think you were real?"

Why?

"I told her I had a friend here and she said to tell me who it was but oh wait, I couldn't because they weren't real. So I told her your name and that, um..." She blushed and looked down. "That we kissed."

So... you lied.

"I falsified the facts a little, yes. I've always had a habit with lying. Sorry, Michael. Forgive me?"

What did she say after that?

"Oh, she called me a slut, said she didn't believe me, and then said I was insane. Um, duh."

Michael reached over, and took her hand. He lightly pressed the top of her fingers to his mask. He let go and wrote something else in the notebook, then displayed it. Well, at least you're not a liar now. I've kissed you.

Samara blinked a few times, then shook her head. "Uh, um, uh, thanks, Michael."

Not a problem.

She leaned her cheek on her hand and simply watched him for a moment. His movements were so effortless, so graceful as he was making the mask. "Your mom ever visit you?"

Sometimes. Not so much now that I'm all grown up, but sometimes.

"She ever say stuff to you?"

Just normal mother stuff. How much she misses me around the house, how she remembers A's I got on tests I don't even remember. More annoying than anything else. I never say anything back or write to her or anything. He paused for a moment before writing more. You know who I really miss?

She picked up another part of newspaper. "Who?"

My little sister, Laurie. She must be all grown up by now. I think she's almost eighteen, if I'm counting right.

Samara slopped the extra glue off the newspaper with her thumb and index finger, then put it over the mask. "I don't give a damn about my brother. Never have, never will. If I'd acted on those impulses when I was five, he would be six feet deep with a couple of fork marks in his neck. People would be running around screaming vampire."

Be careful what you say. Michael chuckled. I think poor Dracula just rolled over in his grave.