Doubt and confusion swirled inside of my stomach. There was this continuous tugging feeling pulling at my heart. I started feeling this way since last night. Right after Sam told me what he was doing in this prison.

A murderer.

He called himself that. He said the word with such disgust, which I knew he held for himself. As well as pain and...and hurt. He was hurting, he was in pain - all because he believed he was a murderer.

However, after hearing his story, I felt as if there was something missing. I felt as if there were parts of it, that didn't make sense and needed justification. It all didn't make sense.

I felt my brows furrow as I stared down at my hands, absentmindedly tapping a beat against my wooden desk. It was something I rarely did. Something I did when I was anxious, or overthinking. However, I felt as if I wasn't overthinking. There was something explicitly missing from his story and I needed to look into it.

Nervously biting down on my bottom lip, I glanced up at the clock. It was lunch break, but I was spending it in my office. Daniel was absent, since it was his day off, resulting with me being here. However, today I didn't even have an appetite. The pot of rice and Mexican beans from the cafeteria, sat on my desk, untouched.

I simply couldn't eat with all these heavy thoughts present in my mind.

That's when an idea popped into my mind. My eyes darted towards the ground, where my bag was sitting, leaning against my desk's leg. With great hesitance, I picked my bag up and pulled out the item I needed. My laptop.

A little wave of guilt danced at the pit of my stomach. I felt wrong for doing this, but I needed to look further into this. Clearing my throat, I opened my little window's laptop and turned it on. I waited a couple of seconds, before it loaded up. I typed in my password, and I was then led to my home screen.

Every crime story around the world, would definitely be put online. Even if it didn't make the big news. So, as I typed in 'Sam Christopher Blake', I hoped it would lead me to find new information about him. Possibly an article; that would be useful.

I inhaled a deep breath as I clicked on 'search'. There was a small pause, due to slow the prison WI-FI. However, when the screen fully loaded, various amount of links met with my eyes. I was slightly taken aback from finding so many sources of information, but shrugged my little ounce of shock off.

Thoughtfully pursing my lips, my eyes skimmed over the links, inwardly contemplating on which one to click first. I randomly clicked on the first one, hoping it would show me the information I was looking for. When the link loaded, I pushed up my glasses as I read over the article.

I frowned at the heading for the article. They made it sound much worse than Sam had told me it was. But I guess that was just their way of attracting eyes and getting judgement from the audience.

Seventeen year old; Sam Christopher Blake, has reportedly stabbed his blood father to death. This very event occurred on; Monday 10th July, 2009. Sources say that the teenage boy had arrived home after a tiresome, stressful day at work and acted out on his father.

I stopped reading, feeling my stomach churn.

His mother was present to witness the scene. She agreed to explain the story in a recent interview, however, began weeping when talking about the event. Therefore, she had agreed to not be recorded by video.

The interview is written down below.

I felt a bile grow in my throat. Oddly enough, I didn't feel as if this interview was going to bring any good. I scrolled down the page, squinting my eyes as I read over the interview section they did with his mom.

"Can you please state your name?" The reporter asked.

"Pattie Mallete." She confidently replied.

"What was your relationship with Jeremy Blake?"

"His girlfriend. He has a son with me." Her voice cracked slightly.

"What's your son's name?"

"Sam Christopher Blake." A tear slid down her cheek and she murmured a 'sorry'.

"If I'm correct, you were there to witness the death of Jeremy Blake. Can you please tell me what happened, exactly?"

She nodded in response, but her eyes were reportedly watery.

"Yes, yes I can." She paused, inhaling a deep breath.

"M-My son, Sam, he returned home from a hard, stressful, tiring day f-from the gym, where he worked part-time at. M-My b-boyfriend and I were talking in the living room, and it got a little out of hand."

"Got out of hand? Can you explain what you mean by that?"

"I-It was a silly argument, which just got out of hand. We just began yelling and screaming at each other." She explained.

"Did he hit you in any way, Ms Mallete?"

"No. He has n-never laid a hand on me." She sharply exhaled.

My brows furrowed as I felt my throat churn. Sam told me his father was abusive to both him and his mother. So why on earth was she lying?

"Are you sure about that, Ms Mallete?"

She smiled.

"Okay. Can you please continue with your story?" The reporter asked.

"Ah, of course. W-When Sam arrived home, neither Jeremy or I had heard him, as we were too busy s-shouting. When h-he entered the room, he yelled for his father to stop. T-That's when it all got a little bit violent." She paused, her voice cracking. Noticeable tears grew heavy in her eyes.

"Jeremy was already heated from our argument, and strode over to Sam to tell him off. Sam, I guess, wasn't happy with that, so he stood up for himself. I believe to prove himself."

"J-Jeremy lay a hand on him first. He began beating him, but Sam hit back. T-They got out of hand and then a k-knife, I was previously using to cut an apple, somehow got thrown into it."

"Do you know who grabbed it first?" The reporter questioned. A few tears were rolling down her face. She pursed her lips, shaking her head.

"N-No, it just somehow got thrown in. And after that, I don't remember much, but Samhad got a hold of the knife and he then...he stabbed his father -" She burst into tears and then called the interview off.

That was the last we were able to get from her. She refused to take any other interviews after that. It most definitely has taken an emotional turn on her. As far as that, we have no more information on the case. However, arguments have been made that Pattie wasn't fully honest. Some believe that Pattie was not being truthful and seemed to be lying, which you can tell by her shifty and nervous behaviour.

However, we are not completely sure.

We are just thankful that a criminal is behind bars and innocent Jeremy Blake, is peacefully sleeping his grave. May his soul be in heaven. We wish the best for his family and friends.

- Lucas Wood

31/09/2011

My eyes were blurry with tears when I finished reading. Tears of injustice and sympathy grew for Sam. This entire interview about Sam, was completely wrong. Every aspect of it was incorrect and was making Justin look guilty.

Most people in my situation would be contemplating who was really telling the truth. Pattie or Sam. However, I had faith in Sam. After witnessing the nervousness, how emotionally hard it was for Sam to tell me his story - I knew he was telling the truth.

And after reading how the journalist had described how she was acting, constantly falling into tears and stuttering with her reply - it only confirmed my thoughts. She was lying. What she had explained, it was not true.

So, that left me wondering.

Why on earth did she lie?

I lowly sighed, closing my eyes as I massaged my temples. I felt as if I was missing out on something which was extremely important. It was something I needed to piece together in order to solve how Jeremy really died.

I thought my hardest, thinking back to Sam explaining. Until I remembered something exceedingly significant which left his mouth.

"A-All I remember is my mother staring at the knife in my hand, which I don't remember being there. On the ground was my dead bastard of a father, blood staining his shirt. And my mother...she just looked paralyzed."

"The knife was in my hands, I was on the ground. My...my mother just began whispering things, but I can't remember."

His words echoed in my mind and slowly I felt realization cloud over me. Sam had said he was thrown off his father, and then he awoke with the knife in his hand. He didn't remember anything, because he was unconscious. The only people who were conscious, were his mother and his father.

But his father wouldn't stab himself.

My eyes widened as a silent gasp escaped my lips. It was like an imaginary light bulb just lit up above over my head. Sam was not a murderer. Nor did Jeremy commit suicide. It was definitely a murder case. And that left only one person.

It was no other than, Pattie Mallete herself.

Throughout the entire day, nerves settled in my stomach. Dinner rolled by and I hadn't yet found my appetite. It was just gone, faded away for the entire day. And I could most definitely say it was because of the news I had found out.

A part of me was happy and relieved. I was happy that Sam was truly an innocent human being which was just misunderstood and put in here for someone else's mistakes. However, another part of me was fuming. Why on earth would Pattie do such a thing?! She let her only son be put into a prison - for something she did.

I would never understand her. Nor would I forgive her.

Even if I didn't get the chance to meet her...

And to add on to that, she made Sam seem in the wrong. That just angered me a little bit more.

Inhaling sharply, I pushed up my glasses as I paced around the room. There were only three minutes before Sam would arrive for therapy session. My thoughts were all over the place. I felt this need to tell Sam the news about his mother as he had the right to know. But I didn't know how.

My confused thoughts were put to a stop when hearing a knock sound on the door. I blinked, clearing my throat as I glanced at it.

"Come in!" I called out, straightening up. A bubble of nerves settled in my stomach.

I was so not ready to face Sam.

The door turned open and in stepped Sam, Marco just standing by the door to make sure he walked inside. When he saw Sam walk inside, he closed the door and walked off. My eyes darted to Sam, his gaze was already settled on me.

"Hey," I smiled at him. His eyes were narrowed, as if he was reading me. I arched a confused brow, walking towards him. I saw an emotion cloud over his eyes - relief. I inwardly wanted to question him about it, but kept silent.

"Hey, Belle." His raspy voice whispered back. Pushing any nerves aside, I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around him. He embraced me back, and I never failed to miss the way his grip tightened slightly. I smiled, pulling back to look him in the eye.

"What's wrong?" I softly asked. His eyes glinted a little, a smile springing onto his plump heart-shaped lips. It truly amazed me how perfectly plump and shaped they were.

"I thought you wouldn't want me anymore...because of what I told you yesterday. But...you do." He shrugged, his brows furrowing a little. My heart melted from hearing this. He sounded vulnerable, and so relieved. I so badly wanted to say the three words resting on the tip of my tongue.

"I'll always want you, Sam. No matter what." I firmly told him. An emotion crossed his eyes, which strangely made his hazel orbs glow. He let out a small breath, muttering to himself.

"You're amazing, my precious Belle." He rasped, tugging my chin up so I was facing him. I sheepishly bit down on my bottom lip, our lips inching closer. When our nose touched one another, I let my eyes flutter close. The next thing, I felt was Sam's soft lips against mine.

Our lips swiftly meshed with one another, my arms leaving my side to wrap around the back of his neck. I gently bit down on his bottom lip, his tongue soon entering my mouth without any warning. I held in a giggle, the kiss becoming sloppy from his tongue action. He licked his way down to my neck, my eyes fluttering close.

It felt undeniably good.

"My messy Belle." He growled, swiftly biting down on my neck. I whimpered, feeling my panties dampen from his simple action. His lips trailed back over to my lips, attaching them back with a slight more roughness. A muffled moan left my lips.

His hand trailed over my behind, gently groping it inside his hand. As I tried losing myself into the kiss, my thoughts about the news, found a way back into my mind.

"Belle?" I heard him lowly ask. I shook off my thoughts, kissing back with my full attention. He groaned, suddenly backing me up to a wall. I felt my back meet with it, while his hand continued to caress my behind. His hand slipped under my blue, smart dress, which I knew Sam appreciated.

"God, I love your fucking ass." He groaned, clenching one of my cheeks in his hand. I moaned, his lips trailing over my neck. I could feel marks growing. However, I couldn't find myself to fully concentrate on the pleasure. My mind was too busy thinking back to Sam's mother.

I needed to tell him.

"Sam," I whispered. He ignored me, continuing to grope up my behind and place kisses against my neck.

"Sam," I called again. He groaned in protest, but slowly pulled back. Not before giving my behind a firm squeeze.

"Yeah?" He rasped, slightly panting. I could see the obvious lust in his eyes and I so badly wished I could carry on our heavy make out session. However, my mind had other ideas. Sighing, I pushed up my glasses, nervously biting down on my bottom lip.

"Belle?" He pressed, his brows furrowing as he peered down at me. I closed my eyes for a second, inhaling a deep breath.

"You're not a murderer." I blurted out. The air fell silent and Sam's eyes locked with me. A glint waved across his eyes, but he remained silent.

"Belle I -"

"- I know this because I looked into your case, and I know you're not." I interrupted him, feeling an odd churning occur to my throat. He pulled back, standing up straight as he narrowed his eyes on me.

"Oh yeah?" He sarcastically muttered. I sighed, pushing myself up from the wall and reaching out to hold his face in my hand.

"I know it wasn't...I shouldn't have done so, b-but after you explaining to me what you were doing here...I felt as if something was missing." I paused, keeping steady eye contact with him. I could tell he wanted to speak, but held it in.

"So, I-I looked into your case. T-There was interview...with your mom. After reading what she had told the interviewer, I realized it wasn't the truth." I looked into his eyes, awaiting a reaction.

"S-She lied and said that your father never once lay a hand on you or her. She said that the knife was somehow thrown in while you were fighting. And then you just stabbed him. She said nothing about you being unconscious." I gulped, watching his eyes narrow down at me.

"After that, she began crying and refused to take any other interviews. However, I put all the puzzle pieces together and realized who really caused your father's death." His eyes bored into mine.

"Who?" He uttered.

"Your father would never commit suicide, would he?" I asked. He paused for a second, before shaking his head. I let out a breath, glancing down at the ground for a second. I hesitated.

"Sam, the person behind your father's death wasn't you...it was your mom." I told him, my words trembling. The room was silent. It was like the world had stopped for a second. His eyes narrowed and then his jaw clenched. Before I knew it, he ripped my hands away from his face and let them drop. I gasped from his sudden action.

"What the fuck did you just say?" He lowly asked. Never had I heard him sound so deadly.

"Sam, it's true -"

"- I can't fucking believe you, Belle. You can't accept the fact that I'm a murderer - so you go and blame it on my mother?" He breathed, sounding hurt and mad. I opened my mouth to explain, but he held a hand up, silencing me.

"You know what, fuck this. I'm out of here." He shook his head, turning on his heels and heading towards the door. My heart dropped and I snapped back into my senses.

"Sam! W-Where are you going?" I managed to get out. He glanced at me one last time, before turning his head away. All whilst shaking his it.

It was when I heard the sound of the door closing, I felt a tear slip down my face. Followed by many more.

That was not the reaction I was expecting.

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