C͞͞h͞͞a͞͞p͞͞t͞͞e͞͞r͞͞ 2
Beryl-green hues search their surroundings. Dark. An all consuming blackness. It was suffocating; incessant amounts of nothing, nothing, nothing.
And then there's a vehement light, glowing orange and crimson, heat-
Sam wakes up with a start, a cold sweat dampening the back fabric of his sky blue shirt as he strived his best to calm his racing heart, his labored breathing. A dream. He hadn't had a dream since... Well, since he died; dreaming merely wasn't a luxury in Heaven. Heaven? Hell? Some sort of Limbo? -he doesn't know. Surely it couldn't be a place with salvation... Heaven was practically made up of dreams, wasn't it?
The unknown thought as to where he's been residing for the last... (Ah, he didn't even know how long he's been dead) was vile and disturbing, and so, he pushed it aside. He could worry about all that when he needed to worry about it. Right now, he had to get out of this hospital aHe shivers despite how warm he feels in the heated room, and tosses the stale, white sheets away from himself, swinging his legs over the mattress. For a diminutive moment, something tugs on his arm, the simple motion sending another chill down Sam's spine. The boy's expression quickly turns to that of confusion as he turns his lanky frame in order to glance down. There, he sees a small girl. She tugs on his arm with frail and decrepit hands in which seemed moments away from breaking.
Her hair was a tangle of deviant knots, her face pale and obsolete. However, she was smiling, an unexpected flash of white teeth prominent.
Sam swallows, lips instantly parting with a prudent question sitting upon his tongue, though before he manages to let the words fall from his mouth, the girl is gone, nothing more than a simple hallucination. The tugging wasn't a smiling child; tubes attached to his arm - an IV.
He was going crazy.
"You're okay," he mumbles to himself, nodding once. "You're okay." He pulls the medical materials away from his arm with a sing motion, a small gasp sucking in through his teeth as he does so. "You're okay," he rambles once more, making sure the statement was true before he gathers his feet, bites down with teeth affixed to his lower lip, taking in a breath, and finally, stands.
Good.
Step one - done. See! He didn't have to wait for Wes to get him out of here, get him away from the shadows (and apparently children) - he could leave here himself, perfectly fine.
He smiles triumphantly to himself, taking a contingent step forward before faltering; a little girl simply arises in front of him, smiling a wide, toothy smile while offering a friendly wave.
And then-
She dissipates as quickly as she had came, leaving Sam to abruptly stumble and fall clumsily to the floor.
He gasps, unable to help the air falling from his mouth in a panicked method. He attempts then at swallowing back the reverberaton, and goes about searching frantically for the shadowy girl he was sure he saw - he wasn't going crazy, insane, was he? "Please leave me alone-" he mumbles a bit fatuously before scrambling to his feet.
His next thoughts were simple; Get out of this room. Get away from the illusions.
Bare feet pad along the cold and chalky hospital floor. Acid tickles his nose; the smell of bleach and ammonia.
Everything was still, somehow, overwhelming to the tenous boy. Naturally though, after a constant dark and black, infinity of murkey ink; no sound, all feeling forgotten, adrift. . . Well, simply being thrown back into a world of color and noise had to be immense to anyone included in such a thing.
YOU ARE READING
If you want to get out alive...
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