Ginger Snaps - Haunted

“Brigitte! You cannot be serious!” Sam cried. He was in shock…it was over! Ginger was dead, they had a cure…
“I’m not strong enough to do it myself…” Brigitte whispered. Sam threw his hands into the air in frustration.
“Fuck Brigitte… you have fucking lost it!” Sam cried out.
“Please…” she muttered, her voice quite but desperate. Sam took a deep breath and rubbed his temple, trying to ward away the feeling of an inevitable headache.
“It’s over Brigitte!” Sam said after a few minutes, pulling his hand away so he could look at her again.
“I can’t live knowing I killed her!” Brigitte cried out, forcing herself upright. She paled at the effort.
“Woah! Brigitte, just lie back and relax, and we’ll talk about this, okay?” Sam said, forcing Brigitte to lie back down again.
“Don’t you get it! I killed her! I fucking killed her Sam…” Brigitte cried, her eyes over flowing with overdue tears.
“But you saved our lives.” Sam whispered, wiping away a fallen tear. “Without you…” Sam hissed in pain and grasped at his shoulder. “Without…” Again he put his hand to his head, rubbed his temples. “I mean we’re alive…” Sam started to sway. “Brigitte!” He cried, reaching out for her. Brigitte stared on, wide eyed and still, as Sam collapsed onto the floor.
“SAM!” Brigitte cried. There was no response. She pulled herself up again, ignoring the pain that came with it. Slowly she crawled forward, until she was near enough to feel for a pulse. She reached out for his wrist, picked it up, and wrapped her fingers around it, moving them until her thumb found the right spot. His pulse was there, it felt normal, but there was something else there…a scar… Brigitte ignored it and moved forward, listened closely to his breathing.
Sam awoke to see Brigitte hovering over him. He watched her expression as she moved closer to her. She looked terrified, distraught.
“Brigitte?” He whispered, causing her to jump. She looked down at him, and Sam was sure he saw the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips.
“Sam! You’re alive!” She whispered, sounded shocked and relived.
“Yeah… yeah. I think I just fainted…what with the Lycanthrope bite and all.” He said, smirking. “God I need a cigarette…think you could get me one? They’re in the pocket in my shirt,” He said, casting his eyes downwards. Brigitte reached out and took one, lit it. As she handed it to him she asked,
“Can’t you move?” Sam’s smile widened at the concern in her eyes. He shook his head.
“Not right now, but give me a minute to smoke this…” He said, inhaling deeply on the cigarette.
“Good,” Brigitte said, and with that she reached out and grabbed the syringe of monkshood, and injected it into Sam’s arm. Sam tried to pull away, but it was too late. He had been cured.
“Brigitte! What the fuck! You needed that a hell of a lot more than I did!” he cried out. Brigitte simply stared at him.
“I don’t need it! I don’t need anything, I just need to die,” She stated. Sam groaned. He sat up, feeling normal, and shook his head. He reached out and grabbed Brigitte by the shoulders, pulled her up until her face was at eye level.
“Brigitte, listen to me! You are gonna go to your room and get all your shit, then you and I are going to go back to my place, cure you and get the hell out of here!” He said, voice firm and serious. Brigitte couldn’t argue. Whether is was because she was too weak, or because she agreed with him, she had no idea, so she nodded. Sam smiled. “Good! Someone other than Ginger has managed to penetrate your mind. Now where’s your bedroom?” Brigitte’s eyes widened. “Relax! I just wanna help you there. What you think you can walk by yourself?” Brigitte shook her head, and allowed Sam to help her to her feet. When Sam slipped his arm around her, she pushed it away.
“No! Leave me alone Sam!” she whispered as she moved away from Sam. As soon as she was out of his hold, she collapsed. Sam grabbed her in time to stop her hitting the floor.
“You can’t even stand without me!” Sam said, biting back a laugh. Brigitte glared at him, but allowed him to support her.
“Fine! My room’s in the basement!”
Sam lowered Brigitte onto one of the two single beds, and looked around, nervous and unsure.
“Um…you get your um… stuff together… I’m going to go find a change of clothes. The cops are on me enough about Trina at the moment… the blood doesn’t help a whole lot,” Sam lowered his gaze and ran his hand over the back of his neck. Brigitte smiled slightly at his nervousness.
“There’s a laundry room, upstairs, by the kitchen. Some of my dad’s old clothes should be in there…he used to be skinny. They should fit you…” she whispered, allowing Sam to leave. He nodded.
“Cool…um you might want to change your clothes too…but I really can’t help you with that…” He gave her a shy smile. “Try and pack anything you might want or need… I don’t think we’ll be coming back here Brigitte. Do you think you’ll be alright doing that alone?”
“Yeah…yeah there’s not really anything I need…” she whispered. Sam nodded, and headed up the stairs. He returned 20 minutes later, dressed in a pair of oversized jeans and a plain white shirt. Brigitte raised an eyebrow when she saw him.
“What! This was all I could find!” Sam stated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, and some of her mother’s more expensive jewelry. “Think your parents will mind if I take this?” He asked.
“No more than they would mind coming home to find the house covered in blood, a dead wolf in the dining room, and the idea of their youngest daughter running off with the local drug dealer!” Brigitte said with a smirk. Sam smiled himself, not at her joke, but how her smile had lit up her face, for just a second.
“Good, we need to lay low for a while, can’t do that without cash,” He said, pocketing in. “You ready?” Brigitte nodded, and nodded her head towards the bag on the floor. Sam picked it up, and again helped Brigitte to her feet. “Did you change?” Sam asked Brigitte as they struggled up the stairs.
“Yeah…my clothes…they are pretty much all the same…” Brigitte gave another small smile. “No one notices me dressed like this…”
“I did” Sam whispered. Brigitte stayed silent, and so did Sam. The stayed that way until they reached his truck. Sam opened the passenger side door, and buckled Brigitte in, before throwing her bag in the back. “Let’s get out of here,” he says as he gets in himself and starts up the van. Throughout the journey Brigitte was again silent, and Sam didn’t try and push a conversation on her. Eventually he pulled up in front of his greenhouse. It was now empty of his party guests, and a complete tip. “Don’t go anywhere, I’m going to get some shit, I’ll be back.” Brigitte doesn’t response. Sam sighs and disappears into the greenhouse. He returned to the van minutes late, with just about everything and anything he thought might be useful. Different plants, drugs and drug paraphernalia, as well as his own personal belongings. He chucked his things into the back of his van, before he climbed into the front seat. “I think we’re ready to book,” he said glancing over at Brigitte. Only Brigitte wasn’t there. Instead Sam was met with the soft breeze that floated in through the open door. He banged his hands against the steering wheel. “SHIT!” he cried, climbing out of the van once again. “Brigitte!” he called out, knowing that he was unlikely to get a reply. Even if Brigitte was close enough to hear, he had a feeling she wasn’t going to make him aware of it. “Come on Brigitte! You can’t have got far…” He paused, glanced around, trying to work out what direction she could have gone in. He let out a frustrated groan. “God- Dammit!” he cried “What the fuck is…” but something made him stop. Far off sounds of banging, crashing, and frustrated screaming. Brigitte. “Brigitte…” Sam whispered, as he turned and ran in the direction from which the sound was coming from. As he got nearer, he realized that she was at a park, a park not far from where he had hit the first Lycanthrope. “Brigitte…” he whispered again as he caught sight of her. She had a branch, and was hitting everything around her, with as much frustration as she could muster. She screamed out her sisters name as she did so, her anger seemingly increasing with every cry. Sam didn’t know what to do, so he simply watched. He knew that Brigitte needed this, or she’d only take it out on herself. Eventually, after doing no visible damage to her surroundings, Brigitte collapsed onto the floor. She began to sob, muttering incoherently. Sam approached her slowly, still unsure of what to do. He wasn’t used to seeing such an outpouring of emotion from Brigitte. Finally, he crouched down at her side, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Brigitte…speak to me… you going to be okay?” he asked. Brigitte didn’t respond, she simply looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, her face a picture of grief and pain… Sam had to bite his lip, to stop himself from crying too. He reached out and moved a strand of hair from her face, wiped away a tear. “Say something Brigitte…anything! Tell me to fuck off or whatever, but just let me know you’re okay…” Brigitte felt her throat tighten at the concern in Sam’s voice, but she did not allow herself to be overcome by it.
“I killed her…” she whispered. Sam didn’t know whether or not to take this as a sign that she was okay, or a sign that she was about to throw herself in front of traffic.
“Come on Brigitte, we have to go!” Sam said, as he took Brigitte’s hand and attempted to pull her to her feet. Brigitte went limp.
“I killed Ginger…” she whispered. Sam said nothing, just continued in his attempts in making Brigitte upright. Brigitte remained limp. Suddenly, a flashing blue light appeared in the distant, followed, seconds later, by the loud sirens of a police cruiser.
“GOD-DAMMIT BRIGITTE COME ON!” Sam screamed, desperate in his attempts now. Brigitte still didn’t move. “COME ON BRIGITTE WE HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” But Brigitte, just stared…