His hands became fists as the sound of their kissing to seal the pact. An unholy, evil pact that would doom Samantha to a life on the run as a fugitive or, worse yet, to jail. Either way, Wendell would lose her forever.
"Samantha, no! You can't do this," he shouted, running towards them. They broke off their kiss, Samantha's pale face turning even more so. "Whatever he's doing to you, you have to fight it. You can't want to do this."
"Who are you? Oh, right, the little boy from Mr. Pryde's house. I don't know what you're doing here or why you're interrupting us. What we do isn't any of your business."
"Samantha, please, it's Wendell. You've known me for nine years now. You have to remember, please. You can't do this. You'll end up in jail. Is that what you want?"
"Look, little boy, I don't know what you think you heard, but we're not robbing any banks. We were only joking. Run along and go play," Samantha said.
"We can't let him go," Joseph said. The brute took a step towards Wendell. "He'll tell the police."
"Like they'll believe him. He's just a kid."
"We can't take the chance." Before Wendell could run, Joseph seized him by the collar and held him up in the air. Wendell tried to break the brute's grip, but his punches did nothing. "We have to get rid of him."
"Joseph, no, we can't kill him. That wouldn't be right."
"We won't kill him. We'll incapacitate him for a little while, until we're gone from here."
"Samantha, you can't let him do this. You have to stop him," Wendell said. "Please, I love you."
Her laughter at this hurt him more than anything Joseph could ever do. "You? How old are you, eight? I'm sorry little boy, but I'm a bit too old for you."
"Samantha, no-" Joseph's punch to Wendell's head ended the conversation. Joseph dropped Wendell into the snow, where the world turned dark, Samantha's laughter echoing in his ears.
***
Prudence stopped at the bottom of the hill, her chest burning and legs throbbing. She couldn't go much farther on her own. By the time she reached Seabrooke at this rate, Samantha could be a thousand miles away.
There had to be something she could do to help Samantha. A house lay across the road, an automobile in its driveway. Yes, here was her salvation. She forced her tired muscles to run across the road and up the front walk to the door. She knocked on the door and prayed someone answered the door to help her.
An elderly woman answered the door, peering down at Prudence through thick spectacles. "Who are you?" the old woman snapped. "Are you selling something? I don't want any."