The Long Game, Lucas Sinclair

018. i'm just as fine as my torso

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
2x08: The Mind Flayer

"She's not waking up. Why isn't she waking up?"

Their words were muffled, disoriented, cloudy in her ears. It all sounded like giant blurbs, random sounds that blended together to make one giant noise. Sam's eyes fluttered, eyelids twitching. A bright light flooded her vision. An immense ache shot through her body, the sort of ache that made her writhe with every movement. A small, stifled groan left her lips—it was a sign of life.

Sam thought she was dead. In her opinion, it wasn't too bad of a consequence.

Someone was lifting her bridal style from the car and into the Byers household—Steve Harrington, she was pretty sure, or maybe it was Hopper. The person's body tensed when Sam's writhed. A whimper pushed past her lips, and she was sinking into cushions.

"She's waking up," Mike said. He blinked, refusing to look away. "Please. Wake up."

Waiting for Will and Sam to wake was painful. They sat around the Byers' house, everyone dispersed, with an eerie silence hanging over them. Lucas and Mike shared an armchair—they were across from Sam, and Lucas was nervous. His nails were bitten raw, and he'd barely spoke a word.

Corey sat with Sam's legs on his lap, an arm hovering over her torso to keep a cloth applied to the wound. His eyes scanned her face, waiting for any sign that she was waking. When her brow twitched, he sat up.

Then, Sam's eyes fluttered open.

Her vision was foggy. Small bits of light mixed together, dull colors dancing in her vision. She blinked, and the blobs turned to shapes. She blinked again, and the shapes turned into Corey's face. Sam drew in a quick breath.

"Core," she muttered. She made an attempt to sit up, but her head spun. "Shit."

Nancy rushed forward, and she rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Hey careful," she said "How're you feeling?"

Sam dismissed her question, squinting so the light didn't burn her sensitive eyes.

"Is everyone okay?" she asked.

Everyone's outraged cries were a little different, but the incredulity they felt was all similar.

"Are you serious?" Mike nearly screeched. "You're asking us that?"

She shook her head and backed onto the sofa.

"Bob," she whispered. "Where's Bob?"

Everyone's collective silence was enough. She knitted her brows together, tears welling in her bloodshot eyes.