It was a typical night for Sam and Colby. They were deep into filming their latest video, capturing the eerie atmosphere of an old, abandoned house. The setting was perfect for a haunted investigation-dusty furniture, creaky floors, and a heavy silence that hung in the air like a blanket. They were in the midst of their "Annabelle" investigation, setting up the camera in the center of the room, while Sam nervously joked about the haunted doll they'd just held.
"I still can't believe we're doing this," Sam said, forcing a smile as he adjusted the camera. "Annabelle's definitely watching us right now."
Colby chuckled. "You're just scared because she can hear you talking about her. She's gonna get you, Sam."
"Yeah, yeah," Sam replied, laughing it off. But deep down, his nerves were starting to fray. He'd never been great at handling the supernatural, and the energy in the house was making him uneasy. As the minutes passed, he tried to focus on the task at hand-filming and making jokes to mask his discomfort-but something felt off.
Then, it hit him.
A sharp, searing pain pierced through Sam's chest, cutting through the fog of his nervous energy like a knife. He gasped, a strangled groan slipping from his throat as he doubled over, clutching at his ribs.
Colby noticed immediately. He turned from where he had been setting up the camera and froze. "Sam?" he asked, concern flooding his voice. "What's wrong?"
Sam tried to wave it off, but the pain was becoming unbearable, and his breath was coming in shallow gasps. "I'm fine," he forced out, attempting a reassuring smile, but his voice trembled.
Colby didn't buy it for a second. "No, you're not fine. What happened? Are you hurt?"
Sam shook his head, though his face was pale, sweat beginning to form along his forehead. He tried to stand, but his legs felt weak, his knees buckling under the weight of the pain. His breath hitched as he gasped for air, and before he could say anything, he collapsed onto the floor.
"Sam!" Colby shouted, rushing over to him. His heart raced as he caught Sam in his arms, pulling him close to his chest. Sam's body was trembling against him, and he could feel the rapid, shallow breaths Sam was struggling to take.
"I-I can't breathe," Sam managed to whisper, his voice strained and weak.
"Sam, it's okay," Colby said, his voice trembling as he stroked Sam's hair, trying to comfort him despite his own rising panic. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline taking over, but there was a sinking feeling in his stomach. This wasn't something simple.
"You're going to be okay," Colby said, though his words lacked certainty. He didn't know what was happening to Sam, but he couldn't just sit here.
Colby placed the camera down quickly, realizing it wasn't important anymore. His focus was entirely on Sam now. He turned back to see Sam's face contorted in pain, his eyes beginning to lose focus. The younger boy's breathing was getting even more labored, and Colby could feel his own panic growing.
"Sam, stay with me," Colby said, his voice breaking slightly. He cradled Sam in his arms, pressing him against his chest. His hands ran through Sam's damp, disheveled hair as he tried to soothe him. "It's okay, Sam. Just breathe. You're not alone, okay? You're not alone."
Sam weakly tried to say something but his words were a jumble of garbled sounds. His body seemed to go limp in Colby's arms, and his breathing became more erratic.
"Sam? Sam!" Colby shouted, his voice desperate as he shook Sam gently. Sam didn't respond. His body was uncomfortably still. Panic surged through Colby. This was real. This was something serious.
Colby's hands shook as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He quickly dialed 911, his voice shaky when he spoke to the operator. "Please, my friend... he can't breathe. He's unconscious. I don't know what happened."
As he spoke, he felt Sam's chest against him, but it was faint. Too faint. He tried to stay calm, but his heart was racing, his mind spiraling into panic.
"Stay with me, Sam," Colby whispered over and over, as if his words could somehow keep Sam tethered to the present. His hand was still in Sam's hair, gently running his fingers through the mess of soft, damp strands as his chest tightened with fear. The sweet scent of Sam's shampoo was mixed with the faint smell of smoke from the old house, and it only reminded Colby of how much he loved him. How much he needed him.
A few moments passed, but it felt like an eternity. Sam's body remained unnervingly still in Colby's arms, and Colby continued to whisper words of comfort, hoping, praying that Sam would come back to him.
"Please, Sam," Colby whispered, his voice breaking. "Don't do this. I love you. I need you."
Sam's body trembled slightly in Colby's arms, and Colby breathed a sigh of relief. It was faint, but it was something. Sam wasn't gone. Not yet.
The sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. Colby could hear them, but the fear inside him was so strong that it felt like the world had slowed down. He wasn't sure if Sam would make it. But he wasn't going to give up. Not on Sam. Not ever.
"Hang on, Sam," Colby whispered again. "Just a little longer, okay? I'm right here."
As the ambulance finally pulled up outside, Colby was still cradling Sam in his arms, not wanting to let go. Sam's breathing was still weak, but he was alive. That was all that mattered.
As paramedics rushed inside to help, Colby watched them carefully, holding Sam's hand tightly, the soft, familiar warmth of Sam's fingers in his still a comfort. As they loaded Sam into the ambulance, Colby stayed by his side, unwilling to let go for even a second.
"You're going to be okay," Colby whispered to Sam, his heart aching with love and fear. "I'm not leaving you, Sam. I love you."
Through the haze of exhaustion and panic, Sam's lips barely moved, but a soft, faint whisper escaped. "I love you too, Colby..."
The words were barely audible, but it was enough. Sam was still there. And Colby would be there for him, no matter what.
