DISCLAIMER: Popular is the intellectual property of Ryan Murphy. I simply dabble in his sandbox, make his characters gay for each other and enjoy the turn on that follows.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is for krumnut, who requested: "We keep this secret in our blood." Kinda dark, in some ways, but in others not so much. I guess, I'm just angsty lately. It shows.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Morbid, Much?
By carpesomediem
"Is this yours?" Brooke asked, holding up a folded piece of paper. It was littered with snippets of text, lined in ball point pen ink.
"Where did you get that?" Sam snatched it, recognizing the writing. It was hers, after all. She'd been looking for it for the better part of a day.
"Is it true?" Brooke's face was etched with concern. "I'm worried about you, Sam."
"Don't be," Sam stuffed the paper in her back pocket. "It's nothing. Just some stuff I was working on."
"Sam," Brooke pressed on, "Don't shut me out. That was pretty heavy. You're talking about blood and cutting and-"
"-It's a metaphor, Brooke," Sam cut in, rolling her eyes, frustrated she'd have to explain the contents of the poem she finally managed to get out.
"A metaphor?" Brooke was skeptical. "How is bleeding out a metaphor-"
"-Don't you ever pay attention in history class?" Sam asked angrily. "I don't know why I have to explain this you when you couldn't take the time to return it without reading it!"
"Sam, I-" Brooke wasn't expecting Sam to get so angry.
"-During the Black Plague, Europeans used to bleed themselves out to try and get the plague out of their blood. Sometimes it worked, most of the time it didn't, but for those it worked for, they were changed. They were different. They purged something holding them back, a part of themselves and they could move on with their lives as if the things holding them back no longer mattered…"
"Sam," Brooke tried interrupting.
"Just go, Brooke!" Sam screamed, pushing the blonde out of her room and slamming the door in her face.
The End