Gone Too Far (SamandColby)

Chapter 7: Drowning

Warning for frank discussion of bodily wastes!

----------A/N----------

He had absolutely no idea how he managed to find the peace of mind to actually fall asleep. He was chained up in a fucking glorified coffin, fucking helpless and in varying levels of pain and discomfort...

His body must have hit some sort of hard restart after the trauma of the whole day and just taken him out for the count, because there was definitely a moment when he "woke up" after being asleep for who knew how long.

Unfortunately, upon waking, another need made itself abundantly clear.

"Fuck..."

He shifted as best as he was able to in the tiny box. The size and shape of the box didn't allow for much room, or any way for him to shift the pressing signals his bladder was sending him.

It hadn't been a need when he was hard, and his fight or flight had kept the signals at bay. But now, waking up after who knew how long... it was a need.

"Hey!" He hollered, trying to get the damn demon's attention. "Hey!" Not that he really wanted more attention from the fucker, but he fuckin' had to go. "Hey asshole! I gotta piss!" And other things frankly.

Nothing. He wasn't sure what else he had expected.

He kicked the top of the box, trying to make more noise. "Hey!" The kicking jostled his bladder, and he grit his teeth. "Hey, asshole! Fuckin' let me out! I gotta piss!"

Nothing.

He took and released a deep breath. "Fuck, okay, okay..."

Where even was the demon? Did it need to sleep? Did Sam need to sleep while there was a demon possessing him? Was the demon even still in the house? A terrifying thought occurred to him. Fuck, had the demon just left him here? Was he going to be left here to fucking die in this fucking coffin?

He shoved that thought back down, because he would absolutely lose his mind if he let that thought linger.

The only comfort, if he could call it that, was that he got the distinct impression that the demon wasn't done with him. That it wasn't done making him suffer. And he wasn't sure if that was a reassuring thought... or a terrifying one.

He groaned. He needed to piss.

"Hey!" He shouted it again. Kicked the box again.

Nothing.

How long had he been asleep? He felt like it hadn't been too long. The demon had said it was putting him in for the night. Was it still night? Was the demon not coming back until morning and he was still hours from rescue?

He had no idea, and no way to get answers. And his bladder fucking hurt.

He shifted his hands where they pressed against the padding behind him. Still no feeling in his pinky and half of his ring finger on his right hand, and they weren't moving right either. And there was a numb patch on the back of his left hand. He could only conclude that hanging from his wrists had done some sort of damage. He had no idea if it would heal though.

Fuck, he had to piss...

He shifted his hands again, trying to rub at the numb areas. There was an uncomfortable moment of a choking sensation as his cuffs tugged at the collar around his neck, but then he settled. His shoulders screamed, his neck was strained. He wanted out, he wanted free, he wanted to go home...

He wanted to piss.

And he tried. He tried so fucking hard to hold it. He was determined to hold it because he was not going to fucking piss himself . He was a fucking adult, and adults didn't piss themselves.