Samantha walked through the hallway to the apartment she shared with her brother. As they walked towards their apartment, a strange feeling of dread set in the pit of their stomach. This was far from unusual, Samantha had just accepted that the anxiety and paranoia were a part of the luxury of being a survivor.

That didn't make it any easier.

As Samantha's heart rate quickened, their pace did the same thing. She took her keys out with shaking hands. Apartment 217.

You live here, Samantha. You could draw a map of this place with your eyes closed.

The only noise in the whole building was of the keys turning in the lock. They hated the silence, but most people would be at work at this time.

As the door creaked open, Samantha's unease only grew stronger. Jason wasn't working today, and the apartment was small. Almost every room was visible from the front door.

"Jason?"

No response.

Samantha could hear her heart thudding in her chest.

They walked into the living space, turning their head to see if there was any indicator of their older brother.

Maybe he'd just gone out for food? No, Jason would leave a note or a text.

His phone. His phone would be on. He wouldn't turn it off.

Samantha took out her phone to text him, but halfway through writing it, she looked up. The bathroom door was cracked open, and the light was on. Electricity was expensive, he'd make sure to turn all of the lights off before leaving the apartment. As they slowly crept closer to the bathroom, they could make out the silhouette of a body lying on the floor.

No. No, it couldn't be-

Samantha swung the door open.

And there was Jason Lee Anson, lying face down in a pool of his own blood.

Samantha froze. Or screamed. Or cried. Everything got fuzzy after that moment.

He was shot in the back. Fucking cowards.

Samantha hesitantly put two fingers on his wrist. She knew that this blind hope would get her nowhere, but she needed to check. There was nothing. They dialled 911.

"He's dead, he's dead, he's dead-"
"Miss, I need you to calm down. Who's dead? Did you hurt anyone?"
"No! No, no. My brother. Jason. Jason Anson. They shot him. He's dead."

They sent an ambulance. She didn't see the point in it. They didn't see the point in sending an ambulance for a dead person, and Samantha had been taught how to check for a dead body. And if the same person that taught her how to check for a dead body was the same person that killed her brother, there was no point in sending the police either. They wouldn't find anything. They could've just sent a body bag with a "sorry for your loss card". It would've been just as effective as Felicity Valley PD.

She was probably too distraught for her answers to be coherent, anyway.

All of their memories were a blur that day.

She went to the hospital to receive the news that she already knew. And apparently, there was paperwork and money involved if your big brother had the audacity to get murdered without health insurance.

They went to the police station to tell the officers that they didn't know what happened, that they were just coming home and he was dead. She said she had no knowledge of anyone who'd want to hurt Jason. It wasn't Samantha's place to let all the skeletons in Jason's closet out. It wouldn't help him now, when he was as dead as them.

Samantha knocked on the door of Clover Copeland's apartment. Aurora opened the door. There was a rerun of Keeping up with the Kardashians on the TV.

"Is that blood on your shirt?"

"Oh my god!"

"Are you okay?!"

"What happened?!"

Clover said Samantha could be their roommate. They could use the help with the rent anyway. Samantha acted like they didn't know where the rest of Clover's money was going.

So, Samantha ended up sitting on the floor of Clover's apartment, mindlessly watching the Kardashians. They were wearing one of Clover's oversized hoodies, that was still a bit small for Samantha. Aurora ordered pizza.

Samantha just wanted to forget everything.