OMG. I've been gone for such a long time...I'm so sorry it took me this long to update...Hopefully you all remember what this story is about.

Disclaimer: I own not the wonderous joys of Danny Phantom.

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Isolated

Ch. 5

She felt pain. Sam didn't remember it hurting this much…The shock of her injuries had worn away, and all of her nerves seemed to be on fire. Sharp pangs radiated from her rib cage and her arm, and she felt the stings of the scratches and the dull aches of the bruises that were scattered all over her worn body.

At first, that was all she could feel…the pain. But slowly, the world around her began to fade in. The cool concrete felt good against her skin, although the loose grit and dirt made her open injuries sting all the more. She sensed the slight breeze brush lightly against her face, and small strands of her hair danced with the gentle eddy. The familiar smell of garbage, decay, and the street assaulted her nose. Sam could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. It was slightly disconcerting, although not unusual.

Finally, she gained control of her eyelids. With effort, she peeled them open and blinked to clear her vision. It was evidently still daytime, a little before or after noon if the sun was any indication. Sam was conveniently placed right against a building, which shielded her eyes from the bright sun. Her eyes widened in obvious surprise when she saw which building it was.

It was the building with the window, the one where the curtains never opened…except once. How did she get there? She had no clue. It was impossible that she could have gotten there on her own; and all she remembered was passing out before waking up were she was now, in front of the "mysterious" building.

With her one good arm, she propped herself up into a sitting position. Her ribs protested…loudly. It took all of her self-restraint to not fall back down. She didn't think she'd be able to get back up if she did. Sam made a few pathetic attempts to get up on her feet; but they failed spectacularly. Her eyes roamed the ground beside her, searching for something to use as a crutch. She didn't find such an object. However, she did find something else.

She saw the door, which was wide open.

Sam desperately wanted to lie back down and rest, but she also desperately wanted to go inside. She felt an irresistible pull to the building, or to be more specific, to the room behind the window. With a small cry, her hands left their positions as props and they rushed upwards to hold her head. She leaned heavily upon the wall beside her.

"Stop it!" She protested weakly, "Stop screaming…"

Voiceless cries tore through her head in desperation, seeking help…her help. She could feel them, the pleas for help, and she could not refuse them. Using some of the last dregs of her strength, she haltingly heaved herself up on her feet, using the wall to help balance. Sam walked toward the door. Every step was draining, and she stumbled more than once, but she finally cam to the entrance. With those screams still raging on inside her mind, she entered though the doorway.

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Across the street and hidden in the shadows of a nearby alleyway, the brown-haired man stood, quietly watching Sam. He smiled grimly when he saw force her weary body to move through the entrance. His wretched conscience had abated, but the man's eyes still held a type of uneasiness. It was worry, for both himself and the two teenagers whose fates had always been held in the hands of others. He himself had risked much by coming this close to the building. He couldn't take the risk of staying too much longer.

He knew he had done the right thing by taking the battered girl to the place where the Phantom was held…he knew the poor girl would never have gotten there by her own strength. She would have either killed herself, or she would have gone insane trying to answer the creation's cries for help.

The man silently sighed; he just wished he could have done more. Sadly though, if he did anything else, he would likely be found out and killed. His boss had no tolerance for disobeying. He shook his head and turned around. He walked down the alley, resisting the urge to look back. There was nothing more he could do.

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Once inside the building, Sam leaned against the wall and slid down it, coming to rest on the floor. She simply didn't have the energy to keep going. The only parts of her body that she was able to move were her eyes, which explored freely, taking in all that could be seen of the first floor. It was a very shabby hallway with three doors, two on the left and one on the right. The dull paint was faded and chipping and the gray wallpaper was peeling off of the walls. From what she could see and feel of the floor, it was some type of cheap, laminated tile, dirty and scuffed up badly.

But then she noticed the stairs.

She whimpered. She would have to go up those stairs. She didn't think she could. But the screams still wailed in her head…the panicked, pained screaming…Sam knew without a doubt that she could not get back up onto her feet. That was out of the question. Then there was only one option left.

Sam inched closer to the stairs, practically crawling on her stomach. She gasped, and watched numbly as blood started to flow from a reopened injury caused by her unusual movement. The screaming filled her mind, compelling her to keep going, and so she did. She kept on crawling, eyes welling up with tears and her blood leaving small, red streaks on the floor as she moved by. Her breath became labored as she toiled, finally reaching the stairs and going up them at an agonizingly slow rate. When she at last made some progress, being in the middle of the staircase, she slipped. This brought her almost back to the very beginning again. She set her head upon the step above her and cried, torn between her physical inability and the voiceless screams.

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Thanks so much for reading!