The thing that nobody understood on earth was that "hell" was just a word. You could put it in a sentence, name a hot wing flavor after it, you could pretty much do whatever the hell you wanted. Because in reality, it was, just a word. But trust me, once you've been down to the pit, you stop saying that particular word so nonchalantly. It stops being just another part of your vocabulary, and it starts being a part of your every thought. Instead of being able to pull the word out whenever it was convenient for you, it became a picture that would resurface every time you blinked. It became a vivid memory that you couldn't turn off, no matter how hard you tried. Nothing ever worked. Sleeping, large amounts of alcohol, none of it ever muffled the images that were burned into your memory. Frankly, trying to make them go away only made them that much worse.
"Is there something you're not telling me here, Sam?" she asked, the volume in her voice raising.
It had been four days since they'd been thrown back on earth. Four days that she'd been on her toes, constantly pacing the multiple motel rooms that they'd acquired. Four days that Sam had called "their time to readjust". Sure, they'd been in hell. And yes, as vessels for two extremely evil entities, they'd been calling the shots on major torture sessions and some bone chilling possessions. But for Ryan, all of that was pushed into the back of her memory. In the speed of a blink, they were back in that cemetery. And from that moment, there was only one thing on her mind.
"Listen to me, you need to trust me. We just need to give it a few more days," he replied, trying his best to calm her down. It wasn't working.
"A few more day-" she nearly screamed, and Sam inhaled. Wrong thing to say.
On earth, it had been a whopping three years since they were thrashed into the pit by Carreau and Lucifer. Three years. In hell, however, it had been close to thirty six hundred years. Three thousand, six hundred years. In the pit. In the fire. No stopping, barely breathing. Three thousand six hundred years of nothing but pure evil.
"You were down there with me. Every single day. All those years… and now, you have the nerve to stand here and tell me that I have to wait a few more days? I've waited for almost four thousand years, god dammit!" she fought. And she'd continue to fight until she got her way.
"Why is it so bad for me to want to see him?" she questioned, scaring herself to even think of the reasons. Sam didn't say anything.
"Sam… why aren't you letting me find him?" Still, he remained silent. Her centuries old heart began to clench, and she was thankful that it still had the ability to do so.
He took a breath and finally gathered up the courage to look at her. "I don't think he wants you to find him, Ry."