Trolololol. Here I am! Back for the first time in what feels like forever but was probably not really that long ago. XD Oh well. It feels great. This was originally going to be a remake of Tell Me What I Can't See, but so far what I'm planning for it is going to be so different that I can't really call it a remake at all. It's its own separate story! Yay! :D

I'm going to be messing around with vampire etiquette, mythology and the likes in this, so if I add something that's like WHOA THAT'S NOT TRUE IN THE MOVIE well...it's because I'm making it up, haha. Trolol, you see? There won't be any Twilight vampires, though. These boys are staying badass. They're just going to have a lot more rules to obey, if you know what I mean. ;)

This is dedicated to my friend Taragh McCarthy! :D I hope you enjoy this, dear. ^.^

The days are a death wish

A witch hunt for an exit

I am powerless…

.

Silence.

The silence was sharp – sharper than any silence ever was. Every second of every minute, every minute of every hour, it grew fatter. Sam never thought that nothing could be so unbearable. After all, at one point he had relished it – held the nothingness in the palm of his hand delicately and prayed it never went anywhere. What felt like too short of a time span, was the best shortest time in his life. When it felt like ages had passed between then and now, he reminded himself it had only been a few weeks. But no matter how long ago it felt, Sam remembered every detail—every word, color, scent, sound… Everything. But the nothingness that was but no longer is threatened to take away those details. And Sam wouldn't be able to bear it if he lost them.

He walked slowly, deliberately, down the hall. Everything seemed to be washed of all color – a throw-back to the 50s. The hall was long, with various shadows cast along it from the flickering ceiling lights. The lights were circular and bright, but projected downwards only, so the corners were darker than most people would be comfortable with. Sam, however, had grown accustomed to darkness in the last several months.

He was the only one wearing a white patient's gown; the others in the hall wore the uniforms of nurses and doctors. The silence was so painful he questioned whether he had gone deaf between the trek from his room to here. The employees gave him questioning looks as he passed, but this place was under a very tight lock-and-key and littered with watchful eyes; he wasn't going anywhere he wasn't supposed to.

Sam made a left turn down the hall – the only option he had, other than turning around, since the floors were squared. A middle-aged man exited a room towards the end of this new, dull hall, and walked in Sam's direction a few paces. He stopped, seeming surprised at Sam's presence, but shook it off and waited for the young man to make his way towards him.

Sam stood in front of the doctor, expression blank. He looked small and thin next to the significantly taller man, but still healthy – a promising sight. The doctor said nothing; he merely led Sam back to the door he had recently emerged from, turned the handle, and gently guided the blonde through.

Michael stood abruptly, as soon as he laid eyes on his younger brother. He nodded to the doctor, who gave a small smile and quietly shut the door once more. The licensed man was watching them, leaning against the painted wood, but thankfully he was keeping to himself. Sam was only able to take several steps towards his brother before the dark-haired man met him more than halfway; he was crushed in a bear hug, unable to breathe, before he could even open his arms to hug Michael back.

A wide, toothy smile split across Sam's face at seeing Michael. The older male only looked down at him grimly once he pulled away, hands still resting on Sam's shoulders. "You're okay." It wasn't a question – simply a verification. Michael looked Sam up and down, as if the boy would have garnered physical wounds the short few days he had been in the institution.

Sam nodded, and brushed his bangs to the side. His hair had grown longer than he had ever allowed it to; his bangs swept into his eyes constantly, and his hair now fully covered his ears. Not long for Michael—or any of the boys he had grown to call family, for that matter. But long for Sam, nonetheless. He hadn't realized he needed a hair cut until they put him in here. He had so little to do, way too much time was spent playing with the shaggy locks.

Michael couldn't help but allow a small smile at the action, and removed his hands from Sam's shoulders. They both sat down at the table that was set up in the middle of the room – a grey, rectangular surface with two metal chairs opposite each other. Michael spun his chair around and sat on it backwards, crossing his arms on the edge of the table. He was trying to make the atmosphere as casual as he could, considering they were being monitored at all times and the room wasn't cozy in the least. Sam didn't look uncomfortable, though. Subdued, compared to usual, but not stiff.

"How is everyone?" Sam asked, leaning forward on the table and smiling broadly at his brother. "I bet you're all missin' me."

"Like crazy," Michael confirmed with a soft chuckle. "Even though it's technically been only a week."

Sam paused, and some of the zest on his smile evaporated. "A week?" Michael's own grin disappeared and he nodded solemnly. "But…" It felt like it had been two, maybe three days. If he was so bored in here, how come he had lost so much time?

A small silence fell upon them, and Michael quickly pushed forward; they only had an hour. "Mom's been upset, but she's trying to take time off work to come visit you. The hours are really tight here. Seven to eight at night – only that hour." He shook his head. "Kind of unreasonable, don't you think?"

"Mom's been upset?" Sam hadn't talked to Lucy much lately. In fact, he had talked to her as little as any other teenage boy in the last year or so. He never stopped to think what she might be feeling right now. A really horrible thing to forget about, he realized.

Michael hesitated, a little taken aback by the backtracking. "Yeah," he said slowly. "But she's been working a lot. Keeping herself busy. Grandpa's keeping her company." Sam nodded. That was good, at least…

"What about the others?" He was the most curious about them. The last he had been able to talk to them, the situation was a little shaky. Worry that he had failed them began to settle in, and he swallowed thickly. Were they all right? Had that man been the last they needed to worry about, or was he one of many and Sam's intervention was pointless?

A blank look answered him. "Mike," Sam said. But Michael was looking at him; he was here, grounded in this room, listening to Sam. The brunette just wasn't answering. "Mike? How is everybody?"

When Michael opened his mouth but there was still no reply, Sam reached forward and grabbed his brother's hand desperately. "Mike, I need to know!"

"Sammie," he said quietly. "I don't know who you're talking about."

Sam blinked. "What the hell are you on? Yes you do."

"No," Michael insisted, his voice dropping to a mere whisper; they still had ears listening in. "I don't."

The blonde just stared at him, mouth open, disbelieving. He started to say something, but the words drifted off and he never fully began whatever he was going to say. Sam looked down at their hands; his was placed on top of Michael's larger, tanner one. And on his wrist, tied securely but carefully, was a bracelet.

It might have been considered girly, for a man to wear such decoration, but Sam knew Michael didn't mind it. He loved it, in fact. It was composed of several intricately tied strings – navy blue, maroon, forest green and grey. The knots were tiny but formed little stars, making anyone studying it wonder how it had been made. Very skillful hands had created it, indeed. And almost tucked underneath Michael's wrist, attached to the string, was an inch-long canine tooth.

Sam retracted his hand as if he'd been burned. "I can't believe you." He glowered at his brother, who looked at him apologetically. Sam stood and swiftly turned to leave.

"Sammie—"

"We're done," Sam told the doctor. He nodded and opened the door, allowing Sam to leave promptly. Michael stood by his chair, hurt and shock displayed by his expression and posture. It took him a full minute to gather himself. He sighed, straightened his back, and allowed the doctor to escort him out of the building.

He's lying. He's lying. He's a fucking liar.

Sam chanted the words to himself over and over again as he paced his room in irritation.

"Liar, liar, liar!"

He threw himself down on his bed, elbows on his knees and hands gripping his hair.

The bracelet… Michael had to be lying. There was no way the last how many months hadn't happened. No way. No way…

The silence in the room—in the whole institution—gnawed away at his sanity, making his head swirl with memories that had to be true. His best friend, his family, his mate…they were somewhere. They had to be. Or the silence in his mind would cease to match the quiet of his room, and his visions would return—and then, Sam would truly lose his mind. He knew he would. He had nearly lost it before…

.

The fragile, the broken

Sit in circles and stay unspoken

We are powerless…