Gone Too Far (SamandColby)

Chapter 3: Blood

Colby grunted with effort, his calves burning as he tried to keep weight off of his wrists.  "Fuck..."

He stared up at the chain snaking into a crank in the ceiling, glaring up at it.  He'd managed to work the blindfold off by rubbing his face against his arm, and he'd taken the room in with a sort of horrified dread.

The chain in the ceiling ran over to a crank on the wall, clearly the one Sam had been using to yank his arms up.  Another shocky pain twisted up his fingers as the cuffs bit in, and Colby shifted again, groaning and straining his legs.

The room was... a fucking dungeon, honestly.  That was the best way Colby could think of to explain it.  There were flogger and whips and other toys Colby had only seen online on the walls.  There was a cabinet on one of the walls, closed so Colby couldn't see what was inside of it.  There was furniture in the room that looked like it would better belong in a medieval torture room, a two leveled table with restraints, medieval stocks, and a metal cage in the corner.

He was fucking terrified.  God, if this was a prank of some variety, Sam had really gone all out.

Except that he was pretty sure this wasn't a prank.

He and Sam pushed each other pretty far in pranks, but Colby couldn't think of a time when they'd pranked each other and gotten to real, actual distress and they hadn't backed off.  Not recently, anyway.  Not since the prank that had caused that unspoken agreement.

A muscle in his calf spasmed.  He ignored it.  He wasn't putting weight into his wrists if he could avoid it.

But God, they burned...

Worse than the pain in his calves and wrists came the pain in his chest.  All anxiety and emotional pain, but definitely worse.  Because as far as they'd gone with pranks Sam had never, would never have said the things he said today.  He knew Colby's sore spots, his insecurities, quiet words he'd confessed to Sam in private.

So he'd known just where to rip if he wanted to hurt Colby.

"Fuck, fuck..." He muttered, looking down at his pocket, where he knew his phone sat.  Fuckin' useless to him of course.  He couldn't get to it with the way his hands were bound.

God, who would he even call?  It felt a bit extreme to call the cops on Sam.  And he'd hate to call Kat or Stas and put them in danger if Sam really had fucking lost it.

He had to have.  That was the only explanation Colby would accept for what was going on right now.  That Sam had just fucking lost it and needed help.  Colby could forgive him for that.  He didn't think Sam had any sort of family history of psychosis, but fuck, someone had to start it right?

Colby's thumb tingled and he shifted his wrists again.

Yeah, Sam had just fucking lost it.  And Colby needed to find a way to get him help.

But how could he do that chained up like this?

His head jerked to the door when it opened again.  Of course, Sam came through.  There was something weird about his body language.  His steps were slower, more deliberate.  There was less of Sam's natural energy to his steps, and Colby hated the grin that was across his face.  Because that was a grin that promised something malicious.

And then Colby's gaze made it up to his eyes and his heart stopped.

What the fuck was wrong with Sam's eyes?

His pupils were massively dilated, almost swallowing the blue of his irises.  And they were jerking in their sockets.  Sometimes jumping up and down, left and right.  It was fucking freaky to look at.