Another chapter for the over thinking readers. This is very complex and has so much symbolism inside of each paragraph, and references to previous chapters. (Go back to Brainwashing and Dinner Dates !! ) - Song of the Chapter: Mistaken - Marian Hill Darling you won't get me out of you mind, No matter how hard you try, how hard you cry, I'm always here, I thrive in a place you can't find
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SAM FELT AN ICY STRIKE Of wind sweep over him, and capturing his lips into a familiar feeling of its unforgiving winter-like kiss seep into him involuntarily. The coldness seemed to be a figure, a shadow almost. . .
It had no face, the cold shadow. It was just a lively terrorized nothingness draped in a black robe, inside its hood dug a dark abyss; pulling you in closer and closer by every glance you take.
How long has Sam been like this, against an unknown surface with the shadow hovering over him? He doesn't know. It felt like centuries, millenniums even. But he didn't argue. Sam didn't question. He felt not the need to, he felt not the need to do anything anymore . . .
Wisps of gold and sparks of silver streaks were the only things that stood out in the utter darkness, being extracted from Sam's own body and into the shadow, glowing like stars for a moment, and then disappearing like it was sucked into a black hole. As though the shadow held a universe within it.
The alpha could feel his fingertips numbing, and his own breath coming in shorter, quicker, in spastic bursts. The only noise left pounding in his ears was his heart threatening to thunder through his ribs. Slow and steady, yet ready to pounce.
The room was dark, an inky black that fought any form of light that dared to reflect luminously upon its glossy interior.
Sam let out a low whine when the cold hovered over him closer than before. He felt his own breath catch in his chest. The heavy frigidness soaked deep inside his skin, slipping through every pore and tensing his every muscle. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart. Feeding off what was left of his being, feeding off of the spark of love, hope, and will inside. Devouring all it whole.
Sam's eyes rolled up, his voice unable to escape his mouth in protest or pain, he was just a shell. A puppet. Sam couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. Submerged in the utter displeasure of numbness and confusion.
But then it all stopped.
He no longer felt the icy breath of the shadow hover over him, his body savored the little facade of warmth that was immediately provided once the winter storm above him was lifted.
