Notes:WELL WOULDJA LOOK AT THAT. I had another chapter to post that I just forgot to, until user Im Just bored Ok posted a review and I remembered to do it xD
Very short li'l chapter here. Avoiding going into too much detail on things, and then setting up the next chapter.
The trial was not a good one.
The whole time Sam couldn't focus, kept feeling the pull back to that room, back to those screens. Things were slightly better when she was with teammates, at least when they were able to catch and hold her attention. She still avoided helping with generators, but forced herself to hold back, to guard for fellow survivors and take a hit to give them time to escape. The upside to knowing she'd have time to heal elsewhere. Or hoping, anyway.
It was one of the most unpleasant experiences of her life, but the plan seemed to be working. That is, until one unfortunate relocation sent her right back to the panopticon. Ensnared, caught by whatever had wired her mind to that place, she couldn't look away. Couldn't heal. Couldn't contribute. Didn't ever get a finger on a generator or a totem. That was the beginning of the end, and things didn't get better. They only got worse.
Sam didn't leave that place for a long time, well past the exit of her other teammates.
Hours past the exit of her teammates.
The thing about an ability that seems to break the laws of the trials… Well, it was a curious thing. And the Doctor was a curious man. Keen on experiments.
She'd tried to game the system, cheat her way to invulnerability, and she'd pushed her luck too far. Should've played it safe, should've cancelled out her twisted power before it became too late. But once it was too late, all she had was time. Without a Collapse, her greediness was due for punishment.
If there was any positive to be found in being the personal pincushion of a madman, it was that her old painful memories of places like this were soon supplanted by new ones. And eventually, once he'd run enough current through her to evaporate the rest of the water in her brain, no memories at all. Just that laugh, that mocking pleasant voice, coos of false sympathy and snickers of sadistic glee. Her mind was wiped smooth, not a single thing able to stick, all of it dripping in one ear, out the other. Or was that blood? She didn't know anymore. Could she bleed? She couldn't die yet, she knew that.
Sam couldn't object to his touch - the fingers jabbing at her skull, her spine, the soles of her bare feet - because she couldn't speak, and she hated herself for that. Especially when the right prodding, the right shock, triggered muscles and contracted them, manipulating her like a puppet. He'd finessed control of her nervous system, and she would dance to his tune whether she wanted to or not.
Soon, her mind was on holiday and her body was not her own. That was the good part: that she wasn't present enough to fully experience that betrayal. And perhaps that he was more focused on her brain than body.
When she finally found herself in the field, in the fog, she couldn't remember the rest of the trial. He must've killed her eventually. He must've mori'd her, because she still felt the pins and needles of electricity lingering in her system. Her muscles ached from the currents that had pulsed through them. A splitting headache throbbed in her skull, like something had lodged itself in her brain, little stones wedged into the folds. It was all she could do to keep trudging back to the Campfire.
The openness was gone, at least. Her mind was her own again, self-contained, the effects of Project Awakening having run out. She could think, she just wasn't sure she wanted to. In all honesty, she wanted a hug.
There was only one person who'd seen her broken, and only one person she trusted to see her break again.
Her hands were clenched into fists, holding in tremors, holding herself together like a bundled blanket. She ignored teammates and went straight for the forest. Straight for the clearing.
Sam didn't even hesitate before crossing into the fog.
She should've. If she'd been thinking clearly, she might have realized the risks she was taking, how both survivors and killers might catch her. But she was too focused on holding up her walls long enough to get somewhere safe.
Safe. Wasn't that an oxymoron. That the one place she felt would be safe for her, right now, was surrounded by killers. Good. They could stab anyone else who came close. And Susie could hug her. She needed to be hugged. She needed to be grounded, to discharge the ghost of static that still haunted her.
Once she crossed into the clearing, the heartbeat was loud, and it's source was obvious and - lucky for Sam - familiar.
She walked right past the two girls sitting atop the high rocks, heading for that spot in the opposite tree line that she thought might be the hidden entrance to the Deep Forest.
Whatever conversation they'd been having was interrupted by a surprised, "Sammy?"
Sam hadn't realized she'd wrapped her arms around herself until they started to hurt where her fingertips were digging in. It was hard to hold herself together sometimes. She waited, feeling the push and ignoring it, standing stubborn against the repulsion from the woods. She wanted to lift her hand, to push at the air, to try to pass through, but she couldn't let go yet. Not here.
The murmured words were unintelligible, but she could tell they were talking to each other. Maybe arguing, maybe just considering.
Finally, Susie's tentative hand rested on her sleeve. "You wanna come with?"
Sam just nodded. She'd talk eventually, but not yet. The delay was nothing new, it just took patience.
Susie's arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Sam flinched as she started to pull her straight into tree trunks, only— only, no tree trunks. No contact. An illusion, a barrier, to keep smart survivors where they belonged.
Sam was obviously not a smart survivor.
Notes: Are you ready for the comfort half of this hurt/comfort? It's so soft. SO SOFT. AAAAA.
Anyway, I'm slow again, but chugging along occasionally.
If you're worried about missing an update, as always, I recommend subbing and/or bookmarking to keep track. Also, I may have spent time I was supposed to be writing chapter 34 instead setting up an ask/rp blog for Sam over on tumblr. So uh… if you have any questions ic (or ooc!), or wanna start up a thread, feel free to drop 'em in the ask box, just leave a note with [fic] if it's about the fic! ^^ Username unwilling-survivor, as one does. (Oh, and Frank is also there to answer asks xD)