reader discretion is advised.
heavily inspired by many ao3 fanfics.
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Sam felt his stomach twist as he crawled through the gap. Colby had waited beside it for him, offering his hand if Sam had needed it. The smell had nearly made him puke, something had died in there, recently. Sam held his tongue, praying that what he was thinking wasn't the case. Colby thinks it was probably a bird or a fuckton of birds, but Sam could smell the blood. He hoped it was just his imagination and fear feeding off of each other, but he couldn't help imagining a mangled body in one of the rooms. It was just something about the odor that was familiar to him. He held his tongue, not providing Colby with much converstation as the pair did what they do best.
and then, his eyes opened.
The smell had only gotten worse in time span Sam had been there, he can't help but think that it's the mans blood that he's smelling or worse, it's Colbys. He shakes off the feeling of dread and instead his body replaces it with regret and anger. That night had gone so horribly wrong, both boys hoped that they would just be mugged and left alone. Sam knew right away that there was no way that they would be just mugged, he knew there was gonna be something more to it. The thought that something else would happen only crossed Colbys mind for second. Sam kept replaying everything. The man grabbing all of their things before pulling a gun, and thats where Sam gets the most regret. He bolted. He left Colby there in that fucked up place with that man who probably shot him, who definetly shot Colby. He had heard it echo as he ran, he tried to tune out the other boys pained yells as he ran the opposite direction of that building. Sam tried to make himself feel better, he did run to get help. He just wishes help had been a little snappier on the arrival or that it hadn't been so far away. He drug a hand through his hair and shook off everything, he was on a mission. He was bringing Colby home, dead or alive. Of course, he was hoping for the latter of the two, but he was keeping expectations low.
Sam swallowed before calling Colby's name, waiting a few seconds between each call for a response. He eventually stumbled into the room where his friend had been bound to a metal rod. Sam swallowed again, he had to look away. There had been so many cuts and bruises and a dark red bandage wrapped around his leg, he prayed that he wouldn't lose it. Sam finally got a hold of his stomach and reached into his pocket for the small switchblade, Colby had been passed out but he was breathing, barely but it was enough.
He had to work fast, there was no telling if or when that man would come back. He sawed through the rope and yanked his friend up, throwing his hand around the others waist. Sam had painfully drug the dark haired boy out of the building and gotten him into the car before he woke up, groaning in pain. Sam's brain didn't even form a sentence to throw to Colby, not even a word. Sam was focused on getting Colby to a hospital, alive. It didn't matter how fast he drove, it never seemed fast enough. He slowed down to a clean 90 when other cars had appeared on the road, car after car pulled over. He blew through red lights, stop signs, he did everything in his willpower to get to the hospital. He wasn't even scared of getting arrested.
Colby didn't talk much after, Sam thinks that the man did more than shoot him. The brief moments that Colby talked about what happened it didn't sound good. Sam fought hard to get back to him in a few hours and he thought he did, but as it turns out it had been days and Colby experienced a lot in those few days. The experience Colby talked most about was watching the birds fly past the small window. It broke Sam's heart hearing that every bird that went by Colby had thought it was him and after the second day, he thought Sam wasn't coming back. He wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, but he gave up hope with Sam around hour 4. He had began to believe that Sam set him up, because it was unlike him to willingly leave Colby behind in a situation like that. Sam dealt with the guilt of leaving Colby there, he had assumed that finding him and driving him to the hospital was enough to rid him of the guilt, and it was for awhile, but the more Colby shared the guilter Sam got.
Colby had to deal with the trauma, he was the one waking up in a cold sweat every night whether it was a dream about getting shot or having his gross hands on his body. God, the thought still made him sick to his stomach. Colby didn't know how much pain his body could take until then, he wished that Sam hadn't run. They would have just been mugged, the Man had no need to kidnap either one of them. He had everything they had on them, which gramted. Colby got back when the police cleaned the place out a few months after he was released from the hospital. The dark haired boy was angry and traumatized. He didn't want to be either of the two, but he'd choose being angry everyday of his life before he chose that kind of trauma. Most nights when he can't sleep, he thinks about it. He thought about it a lot when he was chained up in there, but since it wasn't exactly possible, he just prayed that God would kill him before the man got the chance. He thinks about suicide so often, its almost normal. He laughs at the thought, 'When death is better than what you've been through, there truly is no reason to live.' He used to think about it a lot before. He used to think of it has a motto saying that your past is never as bad as dying, but now, he sees it for what it is. There's still days when he wakes up, clawing at his chest for air, he prays. Colby hadn't done it very often before but, he did it while he was there and he does it here. He doesn't pray for the normal things or ask for his trauma to be taken away. He prays for death, too afraid to kill himself so he asks God to do it for him. Quite frankly, he's tired of being woken up every night by nightmares just like the roommates are probably tired of being woken up to the sound of his nightmares.
Sometimes he prays for something good, never for him though. Always for Sam, or Katrina, or Elton, or Corey, or Brennen, or Aaron, or Devyn, or Kevin, or Mike, or someone else. Sometimes, he even says a prayer for that man. It's never anything bad, he does not wish his trauma unto him, instead, he asks God to give that man a life. A life worth living, a life where he can have a family and get the help he needs. The worst nights are the nights that he prays for God to give him a reason to live, those are the nights that he cries all day. Those are the nights that he writes another letter, he decided that everytime he feels like that, he will write a letter to everyone that means someone to him. He smiles as he thinks about the letters, keeping a countdown. There's only 5 left. The last two are for his parents, one is for the fans, one is Sam, and the last one is for the man. Colby can almost laugh as he thinks about what that letter will say, 'Dear Man, thank you for raping and chaining me to the wall. thank you for making me watch you cut your arms so deep it made me wonder why you didnt scream. thanks for the trauma!' He shakes his head, throwing the thought around. He knows what the letter will say, he knows there will be only one thank you.
'Thank you for making me finish this journey.'
This time he does laugh, he says another prayer before closing his eyes again. His room feels more like a prison than that abandoned house, he thinks the traphouse is scary. It's scarier than anything he could ever go through. He has to face his friends everyday knowing that they don't have to deal with what he is going through, knowing that Sam was the only one who did anything to get him back and as angry at Sam as he wanted to be, he knew the truth. Sam was trying. He clawed his way out and he got Colby help, whether he needed it or not. He has to face the people who didn't even visit him at the hospital but had the audacity to say they cared, because they didn't. He let out a sigh, not caring to think about his terrible friends anymore. He wanted to go to sleep, the time flew by and suddenly it was 4 am. He opened his eyes and everything was white. He blinked, trying to regain some sort of sight. He could hear Sam calling him and he looked around. His eyes catching something from underneath him, it was Sam.
There he was, in the building where Colby had been what felt like hours before. Sam's voice had gotten louder and louder and Colby took notice that he still had his backpack on, Colby never left his side before the man showed up. He blinked as the realization set in, he wasn't dreaming.
He was dead, God had answered his prayer. He had only one thought:
He didn't get finish his letters.
Sam wouldn't get to know that Colby wasn't mad at him, even though he was. Sam was worth lying to, Colby never wanted Sam to blame himself, even if Colby had been blaming him since it happened. It would tear Sam apart if he thought he was the reason, because in reality, he probably wasn't. That man probably would have done those things to him whether Sam had left or not, except Sam would have to watch. Colby almost shuddered at the thought, he didn't want Sam to have that kind of trauma. He didn't want anyone to have that kind of trauma. He was angry at himself now, how dare he. He prayed for death and he got it, what kind of fucked up person does God have to be to take away someone life just because they asked? Colby's anger shifted from himself to God, all of his faith exiting his body. God was fucked up and Colby had come to know that. God had gave everybody trauma, he created suicide and rape. He created gay people and turned his back on them, he created a life and let his son die for it. It seemed like something had snapped in him, because he stood up and the world melted from bright white to his room and he was pissed.
'I'm sick of Limbo.' He just wanted to know where the hell he was. Was he alive with trauma? Dead? Alive before they went? What the hell is going on? Too many questions and not a single answer. He pushed open the door and walked into the bedroom across the hall, and stopped. This wasn't right, the whole room was gutted. There was nothing there. Did Sam move out? No, he wouldn't do that, not without talking to Colby even if he was dead. Colby blinked and the room was back to Sams room. His head was reeling, what the fuck is going on? He spun around and everything was white again. This was all becoming bullshit. This was either a really elaborate dream or somethings fucked up. He wanted to scream, he could feel it building up in throat. So, he yelled a long and exaggerated 'fuck' and watched as the world in front of him began to change once more, only making his anger reappear. He was fed-up, he thought death was supposed to be nice. Finally, he was standing outside an bandoned building and he could faintly hear his partner talking. "Sam?" he called out as he looked around, "Yeah, i'm inside!" Colby's stomach turned. Colby climbed in, not taking notice of the entrance being completely different. This place was familiar and that's all he payed attention to. Sam stood there, beaming at his friend, "This place is cool and," he snaps his fingers creating a gun, "legal." Colby lets out a breath, shaking his head. Sam talked a bit more before turning off the camera, "I was wondering if you were ever gonna come in. You were zoned out for like 25 minutes." Sam laughed a bit, kicking away some litter. "What were you thinking about, anyway?" Colbys body stood rigid, zoned out? He finally remembered where he was. It was a week before they went to the abandoned jail place, it was a week before Colby got traumatized. He didn't know how he did it but, this felt real. It felt stable like it wasn't gonna melt away. "Uh, nothing much, just..." tell him, tell him that you don't think you guys should go to the jail next week, "I don't think we should go next week, I've got a bad feeling about it and there's a guy running around there, mugging people and stuff." Sam nodded, "Ok, I've got another place planned, something that will be a lot more fun for both of us." Colby nodded, mind still confused as to how the hell he managed to get here. He blinked a lot trying to tempt everything into changing, but he didn't. When Sam wasn't looking, Colby had elbowed the cement wall, trying to inflict some pain onto himself to decide if this was real... and when it hurt like a bitch, that's when he decided it was. Everything was ok. Colby wasn't dead, Sam hadn't left him. They'd be fine. Colby closed his eyes, thanking god for bringing him back here. He was home.
