Still In Hell
As time dragged on, he lost a lot of his coherency, most of the details all blurring together.
Heat. Pain. Screaming.
His entire world had narrowed down to those three things. At least one was always present, and sometimes all three at once, but when that happened there was always the possibility of a blackout. There were times the pain was worth the respite.
There were moments where the screaming was so loud it was deafening, and he couldn't tell if it was himself or Sam making the awful racket. He was sure there was a time, more than once, where it was both of them at the same time.
The noise all became the same after a while and it became hard to separate. There was little point in putting in the effort anyway.
There was light too, blinding in its intensity, and coming from two separate sources. One only came close when he was sure that Sam was the one screaming, and as it retreated Sam would fall into silence and then it would be Adam's turn again. The other light was always close. It was angry and familiar, and it terrified him like nothing else did.
Then a Darkness came. Only once, and briefly, but Adam remembers.
It was hard to forget such an abrupt change in the routine, especially after the change it left in its wake.
A third voice made itself known that day, deep panicked bellows that begged and pleaded and threatened before falling silent.
Adam never heard Sam's voice again.
The light that held him, that burned and tore at the very fabric of himself, had hit some sort of breaking point. It lavished extra attention on him after the Darkness left, filled with fury and wrath and unleashing it on the only available victim.
It wasn't long after that when the two lights collided, leaving Adam to huddle alone in the corner and hope to be forgotten.
There was a flash and a sound like a bomb going off, sharp, loud, and shaking him to the core. Then a dimness.
One of the lights had been snuffed out.
The light that remained came to him, just as Adam knew it would. He knew better that to run or to fight, and he braced himself for the heat and the pain.
He was met instead with a blanket of cold, and a voice in his ear, the same one that had bellowed loud and long when Sam disappeared. The cold seeped slowly into his flesh, soothing the pain to a pleasant numbness, the light tucking Adam tighter to it.
It whispered to him, saying the same thing over and over, until Adam was unsure who it was talking to.
"He made me promise. He left, but he made me promise."