Max and Samara had started dating almost a month after the incident of Halloween night.
They had some ups and downs. Occasionally causing them to split, it was high school romance.
This soon turned into actual love, which led Max to finally be brave enough to ask her hand in marriage.
She accepted, of course.
A few years after their wedding they had a beautiful baby girl, Calliope. Born on Friday the 13th in October no less. They had moved all the way to New York, one because Max suggested it and, Two because Samara had been offered a job.
One night, an argument arose. About the witches from their past. Max had found Samara practicing the art of witchcraft. He was unbelievably frightened for his wife and daughter. Thinking they had come back by possessing Samara.
She swore she only saw a stupid spell book, in a library, and wanted to see if anything would happen. She also swore never to scare him again.
Loophole.
She promised to never scare him. Not to stop the practice all together, so she continued. Not much would happen, maybe a feather would float or a candle would light. But she came up empty handed.
Until one night she got a call from a number in Salem, begging for help.
Unfortunately for her, that was exactly what those three witches needed.
"Hello are you Samara Taylor?" Someone asked from the other end of the phone.
"Yeah. Samara Dennison now." She replied driving home from work.
"Oh, right. Well...you were there that night right?" A girl asked again.
"What night?" She replied, knowing exactly what.
"Halloween 1993." The girl responded. Hearing the date from Gilbert.
"Yes." She replied letting out a sigh.
"They're back." The girl said. Causing her to freeze pulling her car over in shock. They were back. The girl had hung up not letting Samara ask any more questions. She had to help Salem, again.
She drove the car out of New York. Hoping she wouldn't get any questions from Max, who had most likely gone to sleep. Hopefully she would get back alive.