A/N: Random story, just came to me again. Written the same way I write all my others, through random thoughts that need a storyline. I might write something like this with Carly and her mom too. I felt there should be a reason why Sam never mentions her dad.
Summary: Ever wonder why Sam's dad is never mentioned in ICarly? It's like he never existed, and this is my thoughts on why. Warnig: Abuse, mostly in passing, but there will still be some details. Set a little before they started the webshow, but Carly and Freddie will still be mentioned. Mostly what Sam think's Carly will think about her dad, but even then I'm trying to keep this kinda Sam-centric.
I locked the bathroom door, leaning against the door and breathing hard. It had happened again. . . I hate it when Dad visits. I sighed, looking at my arms. The bruises were showing up already. . Carly won't be happy. I should've told her he was visiting, she would've told me to stay with her. I smiled slightly, moving toward the shower. At least Dad's not here now, I can shower in peace.
I peeled off my clothes, hissing after stepping into the water. Carly doesn't know it, but if Dad gets mad enough he'll use the metal end of his belt. She still thinks he only uses his fists, but thats more then Fredie knows. Strange, I thought, watching the slightly pink water run down the drain. They're supposed to be my friends, (well. . . sometimes people wonder with Freddie but I still consider him a friend) but they have no clue about some of the things going on.
I don't want to worry them, a part of me rationalized.
Yeah, right, another part argued. You just don't want everyone to know that you're not as tough as you seem.
Shut up! I told myself, reaching for a wash rag. I don't really care right now, all I want is to get clean and go to bed.
I sighed. Reduced to talking to myself? I thought. Could be worse. I could be a nerd like Freddie. I smiled. It might not seem like it but Freddie is cool in my books. He's really a nice guy.
I hissed, gritting my teeth, when I brushed the rag across one of the cuts littering my back and sides. Dad was getting worse, and if he got home while I was in here he'd just do it again. That thought alone was enough to make me wash up as fast as I could without making things worse.
After getting out and drying off, I assessed the damage in the mirror. Some of the bruises would be hard to hide. Dad went a little low on my arms, and the one forming on my cheek's almost impossible to hide. Thankfully most of the school would just assume I'd gotten into another fight, but Carly would pry. Since I didn't call her to tell her about any fights she'll know somethings up. Thankfully I'm a fast healer.
After making sure that Dad still wasn't home I snuck back into my room, peaking down stairs to see what Mom was up to. Dad treats her as badly as he treats me, and she's dealing the same way she does any other time. She's drunk. Nothing else bothered her, nothing else would make her drink. Especially not as heavily as when Dad visits. I finished the trip to my room silently, no need to draw anymore attention. Mom's probably got a killer headache, or she will in the morning.
I locked my bedroom door, flopping on my bed. This is going to be the worst week ever. Then again, I think that everytime he visits, and it gets worse every time. Not that he bothers staying the full week anyway, he just comes here, eats everything, beats on me and Mom, and leaves. Then we don't hear from him for months, possibly years like this time. Sure he sent a few dollars every now and then, but other then that we didn't hear from him, and the return addresses were never the same.
I curled up on my side, wishing I was at Carly's right now. She's my best friend, even if we don't always agree on things. She and Freddie may know that my home life isn't the best (I think that's the only reason they put up with me) but they'll never know how much worse it gets when Dad comes home. And since he's not here long, why worry them more.
Shut up, I told myself. Sleep time, before he gets home and starts yelling again.
I sighed, for once listening to my rational side and slipping into a deep sleep.
Next morning- SPOV
I woke up to yelling. Not the normal yelling of my mom telling the cat to get a job, but Dad yelling again.
"Great job you're doing at raising our daughter!" I heard him scream at Mom.
"Like you have any room to talk! You're never even here!" she screamed back. "And when you are here you beat her then send her away!"
I jumped out of bed, going to the landing to see what was going on. He better not be trying to take me away, he couldn't.
"You don't even care about her!" Dad yelled, glaring at Mom.
"You don't even try to help us! You think I can afford all of this myself! At least I'm trying to raise her!" Mom said, her back to me.
"Not doing a very good job!" Dad retorted. "I think she should come with me!"
"NO!" Mom and I yelled at the same time.
When they turned to me I said, "I like it here. I don't want to leave. I have friends, food, a home. I'm not bouncing around like you always are Dad. I'm staying here!"
They stood there shocked for a minute. Mom was probably like that because of how few good things I said about living here. Dad. . . I never knew what was going through his head. After a minute he stormed off, grabbing his suitcase and yelling, "Fine but don't expect me back!"
I flinched as the door slammed, looking at Mom. She asked, "Do you mean it?"
"Yeah, Mom, I do. I like it here," I said. "Can I go back to bed now?"
"Get some sleep, maybe call your friend Carly later," She said. "Maybe with him gone for good things will get better."
I smiled, going back to my room. Mom and I might not always get along, but I do love her. And now we have nothing to worry about, no more Dad.
I sighed, falling asleep again, worry free for the first time since the first time Dad showed up. He wasn't coming back this time.
A/N: Wasn't to sure how to end this, it's different then anything else I write. Hope this wasn't too suckish.