Time will tell

Sam:Part Five.

Sam opened his eyes. He was surrounded by complete darkness. His head felt like an over-inflated balloon. For another blissful moment, he didn't feel anything, then the reality crept in. His chin hurt. It felt warm and wet. There was a frantic warm sensation on his cheek he couldn't identify. He groaned, bringing his arms in and lifting himself up into a kneeling position. He couldn't see anything, and for a few moments couldn't remember what had happened either, nor could he identify a screaming, nagging thought at the base of his skull, like he'd forgotten something extremely important.

His train of thoughts were interrupted as a small, warm body clambered onto his lap, licking his hand desperately. He felt around in the darkness with his other hand until he was gently stroking the back of his furry little friend, Toast. Sam knelt there for a few more minutes, gently rubbing the little creature's back while they calmed down. From the aching pain in his chin, and the feeling of warmth trickling down his throat, Sam guessed he must have hit his chin on something, A shelf no doubt.. What had he tripped over though?

The answer hit him after a second. He'd snagged his foot in the darkness, where he thought there was just smooth flooring. He let toast down and looked behind him, eyes barely adjusted to the deathly void of the basement. There it was. A small, barely noticeable handle jutting from the ground. Excited, he scampered over to it and lifted it up - and to his delight it swung upwards easily. It was a secret ladder, leading down to the top of a staircase. How had he never spotted it before? It had been right there the entire time and he'd never noticed. He looked at Toast.

"Stay." He told them firmly, giving them the remains of the breadcrust, and lowering himself into the new passageway. He closed the hatch above himself, and then.. Then it really was pitch black. He felt the ladder as he went down. It wasn't designed for someone of his stature, the rungs uncomfortably spaced just a little too far apart. He made his way down, then - keeping one hand pressed to the wall - began shuffling slowly down the stairs, until he hit a short corridor. His wide eyes strained to see in the darkness, but the environment yielded no visible information to him. His mind began to flounder. Was it safe down here? What if there was a sudden drop? ...Was he alone down here?

Panic began to rise in his chest. He shuffled along more quickly, praying there would be some sort of light at the end of the tunnel.

And then... He saw the eyes.

Two faintly luminous eyes, with thin, slit pupils, watching him like a hawk from the end of the tunnel. He felt his stomach drop and veins turn ice cold. He held his nerve for only bare seconds before his mind flooded with panic, the animal deep within screaming at him to RUN or DIE.

Sam bolted for what he thought was the exit, arms outstretched. He found nothing but a wall, barring his escape. He started to cry, scrambling in the darkness for the exit. When he did not find it, he pressed his back to the wall behind him, staring wide-eyed at the eyes in the darkness, waiting for the owner to pounce. It never did. He took a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes to be sure he was awake, and looking again. Sam frowned, still cautious, but confused now, as well as afraid. His eyes were thankfully starting to adjust again. Scanning the room, though, he saw noone, just the indistinct figure around the eyes. He could now almost make out the structure of the room; a stout room with tables and equipment around, and a barred-off section, through the bars of which he'd been able to see the eyes. He squinted slightly.

"...Hello? Is someone there?"

The room was silent.

Sam got up and scoured the room, picking up what he hoped was a lamp, and feeling for the ignition. With a click, the whole room was illuminated by the powerful little thing in his hands. He hissed a little and closed his eyes, now squinting like he'd just opened the curtains to the sun after barely waking up. When the spots faded from his eyes he looked around the room, approaching the bars separating him from the eyes. Inside the little cell, was a tiny, impossibly skinny little fellow barely as tall as he was with crimson hair and snowy white skin. He had a red tattoo of a snake coiling around a round-topped cane on his cheek that matched his hair for the vibrant red colour. His body was clad in a thick, padded full body jumpsuit with dozens of belts rising out of the fabric in places, buckled up tightly to restrict his movement. There was a crude wire cage fitted over his lower face like a dog muzzle, and a heavy metal ring padlocked around his neck, to a chain connected to a ring bolted to the floor.