Boundary Reset

by Copper_Cognition

Summary:

Sam refused the Masked Shadow’s initial advances, one regret amongst many other decisions he’s made.

Chapter 1: Cordial

Oh. It’s that thing again…Still gliding around the apartment complex.

Sam ought to be acclimated to its presence by now. That walking, stalking pillar managed to say hello to him every single day for the past week. Not the literal, verbal "hello”, but an array of gestures that indicated some semblance of social decency. If anything, the creature was too affectionate. Sam anxiously recalled the night it had snuck into his bedroom. A miscommunication that led to establishing some proper boundaries. The shadowy creature took refuge in the kitchen from then on. Things were going smoothly. Sam always offered a pleasant “good morning”, some freshly-made breakfast, and exchanged an occasional trinket. A simple routine that brought comfort in the presence of an otherwise eery figure.   

But, now it’s…roaming again? On the prowl? What is it looking for?

Preoccupied with suspicion, Sam tracked its movement. If the shadow resumed its habit of wandering then he faced another layer of unpredictability during his outings. His brows furrowed, scrutinizing it.

Can’t you just go back to the kitchen? Hang out there all day instead? At least then I didn’t have to worry about what you’re up to. And—

Yikes.    

He was glad that thought hadn’t spilled out; Hellen and Leigh would’ve raked him over the coals if ever said something like that aloud. 

Why am I being so judgmental of this thing for having a life outside of the home? God forbid it have hobbies or interests. Also, actual logic. How else is it going to scavenge for stuff to either keep or give-away? Duh. 

Red, searing eyes broke his concentration. From across the hall the Masked Shadow made direct eye contact. Sam must’ve been staring with equal intensely. 

How awkward.

He issued a courteous smile and wave—a bit of friendly reassurance—in case his previous expression was particularly ugly or antagonistic. The Shadow’s mask tilted slightly and waved back. Sam smiled a bit more warmly at the gesture. He walked over to properly greet his acquaintance. 

“Find anything good in your search?”

Its red eyes glanced up, with head swaying side-to-side. Deeply pondering the question, no doubt. Just as it primed its head to say no, its ruby eyes flickered. A realization of sorts. It scuttled closer, nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh-ho really? What’d you find? Can I see?”

The shadow wiggled excitedly, nodding more-so. Sam was beaming, so caught up in its charm he didn’t consider if his encouragement was the safest approach to the conversation. The Shadow reached into its robe, fetching a shiny object. A piece of glass, round, not at all sharp.   

“A mirror? How beautiful! It looks to be in nice condition too.”

The creature shook its head bashfully. It held the item upright, directly in front of the gentlemen. Not a mirror? So…? Sam leaned in a little closer, wanting to understand. All he saw was a reflection of himself. A bit disheveled, but normal.

“…I see myself…”

The shadow leaned in ever-so slightly, the item —most definitely a mirror— held perfectly still. Sam squinted some more.

“Oh! Me? You found me?”

The shadow nodded excitedly, spinning around in delight before tucking the object away. Sam’s cheeks went a little rosy, he let out a chuckle. He wished for a clever enough line to return such an adorable compliment, but none came to mind. His brain seemed all-too-happy to elaborate on cruel suspicions, not kindness or quick wit. He’d learn to fix that. Another time, not now. He had important business to lay to rest. He simply needed a polite way to end the discussion.  

The Shadow peered past Sam, eyes directed at something distant. The change in demeanor caught his attention. He quickly subdued his giddiness and spun around, expecting an abhorrent figure to emerge from the darkness. He saw nothing. Not that sight alone was proof enough. He shuffled backwards, tilting his chin slightly.

“Did you see something just now?” 

The Masked Shadow shook its head plainly, neither worried nor agitated. Its eyes shifted back to Sam, fascinated by his nervous expression. It waited a moment before unveiling three of its delicate hands. Each hand poised in front of Sam, with fingers facing downward. In sync, the hands pantomimed some sort a wiggling motion.

“Uh…”

It was clearly trying to communicate…something. Sam glanced around for a potential escape, he really needed to get back to business. Before the others could begin to worry. But, this could be equally important. Plus, passing up a game of charades seemed kind cruel. He blurted out a guess. 

“Dancing?”

The pantomiming continued uninterrupted. The hands swayed like little arms and legs.

“Uh, walking?”

The shadow nodded. 

“Why three though?”

The mask flashed three fingers in acknowledgment and pointed at Sam. Then cupped its hands like it was offering a gift, followed by the shape of a cutesy heart. 

I give. my heart. to you?

Sam turned completely red. He couldn’t hide it. Was this a confession!?! No. Certainly not. Calm down. What would a love confession have to do with “walking” and the number “three”?

It was too late, his embarrassment blocked any rational thoughts from synapsing. He absentmindedly tugged at his collar.  

“Uhhh, haha. I-I give up.”

The mask rolled its eyes, hands now jumbled together. It was contemplating a different approach. Newly composed, the Shadow looked past him again and pointed. As Sam turned to inspect the ground, it slid to occupy that space. Pantomiming those same three hands walking in tow. 

“Following…me?”

The mask nodded once again. 

Phew. He was making progress. “W-wait! F-followers? Good or Bad???”

The Shadow flashed two thumbs up and a sideways thumb. 

“Okay. Um. Mostly good. So like, friends? Are you asking about my friends?” 

Two of the Shadow’s hands clasped together, while the third gave an enthusiastic thumbs up.  

“Ah, they’re having lunch back at the apartment. You’re more than welcome to join them.”

The Shadow bobbed up and down happily. It began shuffling towards the staircase while Sam marched in the opposite direction. The Masked Shadow slowed its pace, eager for its buddy to catch up. No luck. It whipped around once, then twice, realizing Sam was headed elsewhere; it quickly pivoted to trail him instead. 

“Oh, no no no! You head back home. I just need to run a quick errand. Then I’ll be right with you.”

The Shadow hunched over and stared at the ground longingly; its eyes darted up occasionally, eager to capture Sam’s attention. Very endearing, but he did not budge. He had enough experience around the kids to resist any form of pouting and pleading. Eventually the Shadow acquiesced, disappearing into far side of the hall. Sam couldn’t get over how genuinely this creature wanted to communicate with him. Maybe if he put in a little more effort, they could make a proper connection.

A proper connection? Was that even possible?

He wondered what it would’ve been like to have accepted its embrace that night. Those robes looked so velvety and soft. So loving and cozy. Maybe he made a mistake by rejecting it? 

No. Of course not.  

That shadow’s invitation was most likely a violent ruse. Dinner and entertainment for a creature with newly formed appetites. Heck, it didn’t have to be purposefully sadistic or malicious. That thing could have good intentions and still cause untold suffering. He exhaled a deep breath. How many times did he need to learn that lesson? 

 

A mother who loved her newborn so unconditionally that it condemned the entire family.  

 

A photographer who safeguarded his many ‘friends’ by preserving them within everlasting mementos. Forcibly present, but lacking any privilege to speak.

 

A reserved neighbor, whose unimposing nature was fiercely over-ruled by her body’s vicious appetite. Forced to partake in a vile feast consisting of the innocent humans she tried so hard to avoid.  

 

It was incredibly painful to watch these people try to do right and fail spectacularly. They all had good intentions…Sam had good intentions…He pinched the bridge of his nose to dismiss the emerging headache. That was the reality he would have to face very soon. His feet carried him to the end of the hall, directly in front of room 24. 

He reached for the handle, hand trembling.

God damnit. I can’t.

His hand returned to his side, stomach churning.

I-I can’t go in there. 

…

I’ll just go look for supplies elsewhere. I can still grab Hellen what she asked for…but…If I take much longer, they’ll start to worry. They could easily end up here. Absolutely not. I can’t put their lives at risk like that. 

Sam paced the hall, before settling on the staircase, contemplating his next move. 

Just lie. For a little while at least.  

 

 

---

It’s been awhile since we last spoke. I still have it, that old letter you sent. I never got the chance to write back to you, even though it meant a lot to me. Still means a lot to me.

I just wasn’t sure how. I kept putting it off. Maybe if I started writing now the right words will flow onto the page?

Let’s see…I’m running a small shop now. Mostly basic supplies and old clothes. Anything that is still in decent condition. Which reminds me, I picked up sewing again! Just mending a few jackets and sweaters before putting them up for sale. Really unique pieces that must’ve been forgotten by their original owner. It makes me sad for them, because they looked to be so well-loved. But, I’m happy to give them a new life with someone else.

…Sometimes I feel like that, an old shirt meant to be worn by someone else. Maybe I ought to feel lucky? That someone else would want me. I can’t though…it hurts too much. Like I’m bursting at the seams.

---

 

Chapter 2: Mindful

Notes:

CW: Mention of vomit, thoughts of self-harm, mental breakdown
♡: Suggestive undertones, fantasizing, and implied masturbation

The trot back calmed Sam’s nerves, he felt steady enough to hold a conversation without drawing unnecessary concern. It was quiet right outside his apartment door. His roommates must’ve finished lunch and were taking a midday nap. A chance for shuteye was certainly tempting. He let out a gentle cough and rattled his keys. Making it abundantly clear who was entering the premises, i.e. not some brazen intruder. The moment he crossed the threshold, Sophie and Joel flew off the couch and grappled his legs. An onslaught of questions followed.  

“What’d cha buy!? What’d cha buy!? Did they have candy???”

“What about that new slingshot??? It’s SO cool!”

“W-what about HHHHHHHHHft— more toof-paste?”

Joel bared his teeth proudly, they were plentiful and immaculate, he must’ve spent a lot of time brushing them. Sophie too, with her mischievous grin. Sam was really proud of them both, until a new thought kicked in. 

Oh.my.god. Is this why I have to open a new tube of toothpaste every morning? What’s even the point of using it all? He’s just gonna spit em out later and-

Sigh. 

No way Sam was about to chastise a child for actually brushing his teeth. He kneeled down to address them both. 

“No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to buy anything, including the tooth paste. I’ll be sure to pick some up next time, okay?”

“Aw…okay.” Joel lamented.

Sophie butted back in, “Why not? Did you get lost? Did a monster scare you? Did it steal your money?”

Sheesh, kiddo. Have a little more faith in me.  

“Nope. Eugene’s shop was closed today. He uh, hasn’t been feeling too good.”

Sophie’s eyes grew wide. “No way! Is it bad? Is he dying? Can I have all his stuff if he dies?”

That last question hit him like a truck. Sophie’s unintentional cruelty may soon become reality, if Sam could find no other solution to that man’s current…affliction.  

“Hey. Don’t say things like that. Besides, it’s not that serious.”

Oh, yes it was.  

“He just needs a little peace and quiet, so don’t go bothering him. Got it? I might run him some chicken noodle soup later today. He should be feeling better in no time.”

Sam felt slimy, telling the kids such an egregious lie. They believed it too. With no other exciting developments, the children quickly moved back to their comic books. Sam, however, was stuck firmly in place. Yeah, Eugene needed peace and quiet alright. That was the entire fucking problem. Nestor and Rafta made that man’s life a living hell. Emphasis on living. Sam kicked himself for being too much of a gutless coward to end Eugene. It was entirely his fault too. All that unnecessary suffering, simply because Sam thought it would be cute to play matchmaker for his two new buddies. Good intentions and all that. The mix of shame and anger made him sick to his stomach. 

You know what? Good.  

He deserved to feel physically ill; it was a small penance for the pain he caused. Ruminations of self-pity and loathing continued. Sam was more than ready to expel all the anxiety and discontent that was bubbling up inside. Wanted it to burn his throat on the way up too.

“Go vomit in toilet, not on the carpet. And, definitely not in the sink.”

A husky voice snapped him back to reality. Sam looked up to his newest companion, Papineau, the err…janitor? His list of titles was long considering the lack of functioning staff. 

“Should you barf in the sink, you’ll be the one learning how to clean the P-trap.”

“Pfft. Pee trap?” Joel giggled.

“Ew! Why is there pee getting trapped in the sink?” Sophie asked sarcastically.

“Jo-el, you’re not supposed to pee in the sink!” She teased.  

Rat baby echoed, “Ew. Pee pee.” 

“I’m not!!!” Joel cried at the accusation. 

“Pee pee.”

“S-TOOOP!” 

Sam was ready to step in when Papineau place a firm hand on his shoulder, quietly stating: I got this. The janitor nudged him towards the bathroom door, before returning to the kids. 

“Keep it up and all three of you are going to get a comprehensive lesson in plumbing.”

Was that a threat?  

It managed to shut the kids up, except rat baby who was genuinely enthused about any sort of learning. Sam gently closed the bathroom door, locking it. The way that door sealed made the entire room feel like it was caught in a vacuum. Perfectly cool and quiet, the only sound came from a small fan circulating in the vents. Just enough white noise to offer some privacy. He stood over the toilet, hoping the urge to hurl would overtake him. But, the sensation had mostly passed.

Ugh.

He desperately wanted to purge all of his physical discomfort and anxiety; as if to reset all his bodily functions. He was instead left with uncomfortable nausea and malaise. In no rush to return the others, he threw off his sweater and undershirt, laid down, and embraced the cold tile. It soothed his aching head and queasy stomach. The floor momentarily shifted, a by-product of dizziness or? Nope, don’t care. Eyes closed, he pressed his face into the floor. Ready to forget the world. A tingle down his spine refused him such serenity. It needed him to know he wasn’t truly alone. 

“Go away.”  

A light thunk on the ground tickled his right ear. He turned his head begrudgingly. A small can of ginger ale rested on the floor. He looked up to see a shadowy figure slither towards the exit.

Sigh. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. You can stay.”

It stopped mid-motion, turning to face Sam, staring expectantly. He sat up, propped against the shower, and began sipping the soft beverage. The carbonation and ginger did wonders for his nausea. The masked creature shuffled over a little, in an attempt to re-engage. Something it seemed to be improving on, that perfect amount of distance between two people without being too intrusive.  

Sam let out a couple small burps, each one steadily improving his queasiness. The Masked Shadow looked perturbed. Like he had grown a second pair of eyes. Shit. Maybe he did. Sam looked down, bracing for a potential new reality. No flesh out of the ordinary, just bare chest and belly. Sam savored the rest of the drink and threw the can in the trash. He let out one final belch, happily cured of his ailment. The Shadow scrunched back into itself, fabric folding along the underside of the mask like a multitude of chins. The look of someone who was still very concerned (and a tad judgmental).

“What? You’ve never heard a person burp before? It’s fairly normal I assure you.” Sam teased.

The thought lingered. How normal his own bodily functions were. How comfortably he could laugh at his own quirks, knowing that it made him perfectly human. That creature, however, seemed so unfamiliar with it all. 

Was it ever human? Has it been so fundamentally changed that it’s not even worth comparing at this point?

Sam felt even more guilty for the ways he had judged the other cursed residents and their transformations. Maybe he really lacked sympathy for their situation. He’d have to be more mindful of that in his future encounters. With his ailment gone, a pleasant weariness crept in. Sam stretched his arm up, then stood, fearing he’d collapse on the floor if he didn’t bother to move now. 

“Thanks for the soda. That was really kind of you. We can talk after I get out of the shower, deal?”

The Mask nodded amicably. Sam scoured the cabinets for fresh towels and soap. Just as everything was put neatly into place he caught a glimpse of the Shadow, still fixed in place. It hadn’t left yet? Maybe Sam phrased something wrong.

“…Um. I was gonna take a shower, soo could you…”

The Masked Shadow closed the distance between them in a single motion.

“Oh, uh???”

He leaned back into the glass door in a sad attempt to create space. He could feel where the warmth of his breath met the creature’s form. Its porcelain mask loomed overhead. Crimson eyes scanned him up and down, before trailing off to the side. A hand floated past him; seemingly more fascinated by the towel folded over the shower door. Delicate hands traced the woven fibers. It began unraveling a thread on a frayed corner. 

“Hey, hey! I need that.”

The mask rotated to meet Sam’s face. Judging.

It apparently disagreed as one hand stashed the towel in its robes.

“Excuse you. I-“

The shadow offered up its sleeve, then draped it over the shower door. Sam covered his mouth, suppressing a giggle. 

He spoke softly, “That’s awfully kind of you. And, I’m sure your robe is much softer, but I’d prefer to use my towel.”

It leaned over quizzically. As if to say, Are you sure? 

Sam hesitated…That old towel was kinda shabby. While the Masked Shadow’s obsidian cloak looked so plush. What was the texture like? How would it feel brushing against his skin? Like crisp bedsheets after a hot shower? He imagined being swaddled within, all snug…With razor teeth gently nuzzling his neck. Wispy hands combing through his wild hair, massaging his shoulders, gently caressing his body, grasping at— 

“OKaY. You gotta go. And give me my towel back.”

The creature relented, folding the original towel neatly back into place. It idly waddled over to the door, blissfully unaware of the stiff atmosphere. Sam waved his hand, motioning it to hurry up. Finally, it crumpled into the floor and slid out the door gap. 

Now truly alone, Sam discarded his pants.  

Cold shower first. Then hot.  

The spray of freezing water subdued his appetite. He slowly upped the temperature to scalding hot. That was the first time he thought of the Masked Shadow that way. All other fantasies were of sensory disconnect and embracing the void. Something more akin to falling asleep than sex. He felt guilty for thinking about his friend that way. That creature was wonderfully silly and cute. Potentially violent. Not lustful in any way…

Maybe?

Okay, but maybe it is lonely that exact way too?

His mind latched onto the slightest possibility. He lacked the willpower to switch the faucet back to cold. Instead pressed his back into the shower wall, tracing a hand down his chest. It was safer to entertain the idea here, alone, than to be bothered by such urges later on.

 

Sam emerged from the bathroom with a fresh outfit and fresh outlook. All of that anxiety had washed down the drain, leaving him feeling relaxed. A nap sounded even better than before. He glanced over the kitchen. Papineau was kneeling on the tile, tools in hand, working under the sink. Sophie sat on the counter, while the other kids sat on the mat. 

Huh. He really was giving them a lesson in plumbing.  

Rat baby was smacking and twisting pipes together in a crude attempt to make a sword. Sophie had successfully constructed a giant metal slingshot, with a plumbers tape as the band. While Joel remained perfectly still, engrossed for the entire lecture. Sam mimed a quiet thank you when the two men made eye contact. Seeing the kids were still preoccupied, Sam made his way to the couch. Plopping down with a pillow in hand, he got comfortable. 

A nap would fix everything.  

 

 

---

I feel elongated and compressed in ways I cannot fully express.

Did I already tell you how much I miss writing letters? Telling you how I feel. And hearing how you feel. I wish we could go back. Not back to us (as much as I miss those days), but back to being friends. Out of everyone we knew, you were the only one who seemed to care that I was still around. To make sure I stuck around.

Are you happy right now? Alive? Scared? Alone? Suffering? Suffering…

Please, god no more suffering. I’ve had enough. We’ve all been through enough.

Just let me go. I don’t think I can survive the flames much longer.

---

 

Chapter 3: Spacious

Notes:

CW: Claustrophobia, panic, viscera, sensory deprivation
♡: gentle embrace

The living room was mostly quiet, with exception of gentle conversations and a couple laughs. Sam was nodding off, eager to embrace sweet nothingness. The cushion beside him sagged. Someone must’ve sat down. A large hand tenderly pressed his forehead. The soothing pressure almost put him to sleep. Then it clamped down hard with a grip that could easily fracture his skull. He leaned forward to sit up, but the force kept him pinned in place. 

“Where’s the stuff I asked for?”

That stern, blunt voice could only belong to Hellen. A quick peek would confirm his suspicions…had the pressure of her fingers not forced his eyes shut. 

“Um…I-I didn’t find it.”

“Did you not look?”

“No. Yes? No…I went to Eugene’s! But his uh shop wasn’t open…”

Her hand pressed him further down, his hand instinctively latched onto her arm, fearing she’d drown him in the upholstery.  

“Where else?”

“Huh???”

“Where else did you check?”

“No-nowhere. I di-”

She pressed him further down, his face practically engulfed by the pillow. Sam was kicking his legs at this point. His voice muffled, barely recognizable.

“I didn- g— the chhhancshe t— look an-where elshe! - wuz gunna —top by fll—r one. —at’s wherr —Gene getsh mo— uff hi— -tuff an-whey—.”

Hellen was not entirely convinced; her arm held firm. “Don’t lie to me.”

Sam’s voice cracked at the accusation, “Don— -ie? Hell—n! Yew liiii tuh m- all —e ti-meh!”

She gave his skull a squeeze.“O-ay. Okay! I-wull gu- —oh, iesh —-at whuut u wan—?”

“Yes. It’s important.”

Hellen lifted Sam by the head, bringing him to his feet. He gasped for air, almost tripping over the coffee table as he regained his composure. Hellen settled back onto the couch, stretching her legs to take up its the entire length. Sam retreated from the space like a wounded animal; the same shame that Leigh must’ve felt several nights prior. 

“Can’t even sleep on my own couch.” He grumbled as he shut the front door behind him. Sam applied gentle pressure on his eyelids, ensuring nothing was dislodged.

Does Hellen even know her own strength? It’s not like the stuff was that important either. We have plenty of bandages and other medical supplies. I don’t know why she’s demanding more. At the very least she could’ve let me sleep…

He drug his feet down the hall, moping all the way down to the first floor. Moody grievances echoing off the stairwell walls. 

An impossible labyrinth lied in wait. Sam remembered a few obvious landmarks, but failed to memorize the entire layout. As expected, he made a couple wrong turns, leading into a repetitive stretch of hallways. Rounding a different corner, led him through the passage of many doors. His hand landed on each door knob, rattling them as he walked by. It was a sort of ritual at this point. He knew only one actually opened (leading to the giant eye) while all the others remained locked. But, considering how often this floor changed it was only a matter of—click. 

Oh?  

Sam had twisted one door’s handle past the locking mechanism. It must’ve been old and faulty. He took a couple steps back to align his posture within the doorframe, then rotated the doorknob clockwise. It moved simply enough, he just needed to pull back slightly and…the door moved effortlessly outward. 

No deadbolt to worry about. Thank god.

Thank god? Sam was peering into a dark room, ready to enter an unexplored space that could spell his death. Maybe he should be holding his thanks until after it was looted. He cautiously stepped into the space, taking note of the surroundings. It was a medium-sized room, perfectly square. Cubicle in a way that didn’t match with most other rooms. The ceiling was little tall though, Sam had to squint to visualize its finer details in the dark. Looking directly down, meat grew out of the floorboards. An easy thing to remove should he have some herbicide handy. Long streaks of dried blood ran up and down the wallpaper. 

Had one of the upper floors leaked below?

Bits of ivory peaked through the furthest wall. On closer inspection, it revealed a human skeleton embedded into the wall. He instinctively stepped back, afraid that it might reach out to grab him. Unlikely, but still possible. The room’s overall eeriness was seeping into his mind, he glanced back to the front door as a safety precaution. The wooden frame looked as if it was displaying a pitch black canvas. Exterior light from the hallway could no longer reach inside. Slowly, the abyssal ink bled through the door.

Sam jumped back, “Yipes!!”

His reaction only caught the thing’s attention more-so. It picked up pace, sloshing around like a tidal wave, ready to flood the room. His body seized up, neurons screaming a single command: DON’T MOVE. The wobbly creature made it within arm’s length of Sam. He could’ve gotten his axe out by this point, possibly swung at it, but his tissues and tendons refused to do anything other than remain perfectly still. The creature’s wavering silhouette stopped a breath away from Sam. It spun upward into an obelisk, fishing out a white, moon-like object. Two red dots beaming down.  

The Masked Shadow was staring him up and down once again. 

“Oh… t-thank goodness.” He sighed.

Sam placed a hand on his face and laughed. Holy shit that thing was fast. Tears rolled down his face; he couldn’t stop laughing. The mix of horrid surprise followed by immense relief was too stark a contrast. Between several disjointed breaths, Sam finally stifled his laughter. He looked up, while wiping away a tear. The Shadow was not pleased. Its red eyes darted around Sam’s figure. Then shuffled around his person in search of something unknown, until residing face-to-face with the shorter gentlemen. It seemed extremely worried. 

”What’s wrong?” Sam asked, voice cracking. 

The mask zoomed closer, eyes bright. With an expression that could vaguely be read as: you tell me.

“Ah, hah did-did I scare you?” 

The Shadow nodded aggressively. So, that was it. Sam screamed and it merely rushed to his aid. He felt a tad embarrassed for losing his composure. 

“I’m not hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The creature rolled its shoulders, flattening loose folds of fabric as if dismissing hackles of fur. Another confirmation that it feared for Sam’s safety. Its expression still looked a little judgy though. 

“Um, heh. You still look a little upset with me.” He tugged his left sleeve sheepishly. “You don’t find this a little funny?”

The Masked Shadow shook its head with a distinctive NO. 

Sam was taken aback. Why was it mad? Not his fault it had been creeping around. Did it lack a sense of humor or what? 

Sam couldn’t dismiss this creature’s concern so quickly. It looked utterly betrayed; like he had pulled off an inconsiderate prank. 

…A prank? 

Between the scream and giggles, this poor creature thought it was being laughed at. Of course it would be upset. 

“You know, I only hollered because you spooked me first.”

The Mask’s eyes widened, clearly hurt by this revelation. Its entire body hunched forward, looking deeply ashamed. Sam patted its shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it; no one got hurt. And…I’m glad you came to check up on me. I didn’t get to catch up with you earlier, like I promised.”

Its misty gaze met his smile, acknowledging the apology before glancing to where his hand rested. The Shadow looked back at him with wild curiosity. Something about that extended look caused him to recoil; he immediately retracted his hand. Sam had set really clear boundaries with the Masked Shadow and he was now the one breaking them. 

“S-Sorry! I just wanted to make sure you were okay too.” 

He stepped back a little further, prying himself away from the invisible force that kept them tethered. 

“Now that we’re both safe, I ought to get back to searching.” 

The Shadow nodded in agreement and began its own exploration of the room. There was hardly any furniture around, save for a simple nightstand with drawer. The hardware was dented and a chunk of human hair clung to it. Sam cautiously pulled the knob back. The drawer slid open without issue. A couple bottles of expired painkillers, trauma shears, unopened bottle of eye wash, and sterile bandages were inside. Exactly the sort of supplies that Hellen was looking for. With very little else to explore, Sam turned back to his companion. 

“Ready to go?”

Head still slumped over, it nodded. 

There was no need for it to keep sulking about, so why was it slouching all over the place?  

The Masked Shadow had plenty of space to stand up straight. 

No actually, it didn’t. 

The creature was too tall for this room’s incredibly short ceiling. How uncomfortable. Sam made his way to the front door, eager to get them both out of this stuffy space. But, the front door was shut. 

Did he, did he do that? 

No.  

Did the Shadow? 

No.  

He apprehensively reached for the handle. It did not budge. 

Don’t panic. Make a plan.  

He took a step back, worried he’d break something by brute-forcing a solution. There was probably a trick to getting the door open. Sam glanced back at the Masked Shadow hoping for some assistance. The creature stared upwards, distracted by something else entirely. Its shoulders were no longer slumped, but its entire back had begun to bend over. Sheesh. This room was really much too small for its pillar form. Sam’s attention went back to inspecting the front door. 

Hold on.  

His focused snapped back to his friend. Awkwardly bending closer to Sam’s own height. The ceiling only a few centimeters away from touching the creature’s head. There was something deeply wrong. The ceiling hadn’t been this low when they first entered the room…even the side walls were spread further out and—his blood froze. The walls literally closing in. He spun back towards the door, desperately twisting the handle. When that dingy piece broke off, he cussed. He reached for the side of his backpack, sliding out a chipped axe to break down the wood. With every swing he felt the walls shrink closer. 

One-handed, it took work, but, finally the wood gave way. 

As he angled the axe to split and pry away the boards, several slender hands shifted past. The Masked Shadow attempted to help him by plucking apart the damaged boards. It seemed (to some extent) understand the severity of the situation. Sam took in a deep breath as he saw big chunks of particle board get tossed to the side. Just a bit bigger of a hole and then they could both crawl out. The Shadow moved its hands out of the way, content with its progress. Sam reach his arm through the door only to smash his fingers against a stone interface. He pulled his hand back, shaking away the pain.

“Ouch! What the fuck!?”

The two peered through the hole…It was a facade. Enclosed by brick walls. Sam dared to look up at the ceiling, now engulfing the top of the door frame. His eyes widened with fear. All he could do was envision the room crushing his guts into a gooey paste, fresh streaks of blood expressively painting the walls, with bits of bone embedded into the woodwork, just like that skeleton on the adjacent wall…

The Masked Shadow casually strutted away from the door to inspect who-knows-what. It was trying, but its overall indifference to the situation had angered Sam even further. NOW was the moment it needed to be worried for his safety. For BOTH of their safety. Sam recognized a window across the room. Was it there before? Who cares!? By this point, he learned to avoid all windows to the outside world. Lest he succumb to an awful fate like the others. But, now he was terribly desperate. Not everyone who witnessed the outside world ended up dead. He could still get out of this alive. He was finally ready to make that risk. He gulped and turned to the Shadow.

“C-could you open those curtains?”

It looked at him questioningly, as if mishearing the request. Sam pointed at the window, hand shaking. His voice shifted between anger and fear.

“Th-those curtains, could you open them up…fully?!?” 

Another uncomfortable pause before the creature obliged. Its hands reached out, opening the curtains and letting a bright light pour into the room. Sam winced, expecting pain or some other change to take hold. But, nothing did. Maybe because he was far enough away? Not that it should matter, since he was planning to go out there anyway. By this point, the ceiling was encroaching on that prime window space. Sam took a deep breath, wiped sweat from his brow and threw the beaten axe through the window. The glass shattered brilliantly, the shrill sound filled his ears with a deep sense of gratitude. He ran over to the window, bright light shining over his face. He blindly reached out to feel fresh air. 

His palm made contact with cold stone. 

Palm turned to fist, as he violently struck the brick. Another facade. 

“FUCK!!!”

They were running out of options, the ceiling had reached half-way down the window, forcing Sam to hunch over as well. The Masked Shadow was bent perfectly sideways. It glanced at him for a moment, looking a slight bit inconvenienced, not at all like it was about to be horrendously flattened. Sam kneeled down to buy some extra space. There was no where to run or hide. His body was ready to panic, start flailing and sobbing. He let anger take charge instead. His fist slammed into the ground. The floorboards jiggled between its meaty joints. The sound was gross, but also pleasant…??? Like, it was somewhat hollow. Yeah, hollow was the right word…If that truly was the case, then Sam could still dig through! 

He swung his backpack to the front and frantically unzipped it, pouring out some of its contents. He shoved aside his new provisions and other miscellaneous junk until his hand rested on a herbicide bottle. Last one too. He yanked it out of the pack spilling the caustic liquid all over the floor. With a noxious burble the mixture seeped into the ground, eating away the sticky joints and warping the floorboards. 

“YES!” 

Sam jumped up in excitement, smacking his head against the ceiling before crashing back to the ground. The meager distance was harrowing, he dared not look up. Unprompted, the Masked Shadow began pulling away the floorboards, eager to uncover what Sam had been desperately digging towards. Its many hands made sizable progress, peeling the wood like tape. The ceiling continued rolling, with the sound of gnashing stone too harsh to ignore. Sam frantically pushed the wiggling arms out of his way when he thought enough wood had been cleared. Vision no longer obscured, Sam shrieked in horror. The floor’s hollow center only ran a couple centimeters deep. Below, countless faces stared back, some partially melted by the herbicide that bled through. Bits of bone jutted up, out of this fleshy death pit.

These poor things had been flattened…Over and over and over again. Sam was next. There was no escaping it. He prayed that their souls had already fled their bodies. That they weren’t stuck repeating this cycle of agony every moment a new victim walked into this death trap. The cracked-tooth maw of one face opened as if in awe of the situation. Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want his last moments to be transfixed by their terrible gaze. He couldn’t bear to look at the blank ceiling now pressing the back of his head. He tilted his head slightly, opening one eye to regard his friend. That uncanny mask was much more a comfort than anything else at this point. 

“I’m sorry.” he weakly muttered.

The Masked Shadow stared back. Pressed up against the ceiling, its porcelain mask was cracking under the pressure. 

Was it trying to hold the ceiling up? Had it been doing so this whole time?  

It attempted to pry itself closer to Sam, but could barely move. Lying sideways, its robe slipped open. Several hands reached out offering to hold him. One final embrace. Sam reached toward it. The hands danced closer, gliding across his sleeves, then his cheek. Endless in their pursuit, they reached for his calf, then behind his back. Until they completely engulfed him in a silky, shroud of pitch black. 

He felt silence. peace. calm. nothingness.

He waited for the agonizing pain of being crushed. Did it already come to pass? Or, was this the dreadful moments before death? The uncertainty drove him mad. He wanted to cry and thrash about, but couldn’t even make sense of gravity. Absent of feeling. His knees were no longer scraping the floor or his head pressed down by the ceiling. He was somehow floating. It was both surreal and horrifying.It proved to be unbearable as Sam began sobbing, choking and gasping for air.

A gentle hand plucked the back of his sweater, providing the smallest sense of space within an endless void. His feet dangled mid-air until they made contact with the ground. A gentle breeze tickled his ear. The blackened void was pulled back like a curtain. He looked about wearily. He was standing…in a hallway. First floor like he had been previously. Like, they had both been. He wondered what happened to his friend. 

Something obscured his view directly above. He leaned back to gain perspective, but fell backwards, overwhelmed by vertigo. He was caught by many tender hands. Fixed in place with his feet barely brushing the ground. The Masked Shadow held him upright…He was starting to see that more clearly.A single hand traced Sam’s face, his cheek wet from crying. Sam absentmindedly returned the gesture, stroking the creature’s mask lovingly. He wanted to believe that this was all a strange dream. His finger dipped down, feeling the deep grooves along the porcelain mask. Visible cracks from the ceiling’s impact. 

Huh…not a dream then.  

His mind went numb before slipping out of consciousness entirely. 

 

---

It’s dark here. I’m not sure if I can get out. If I will ever get out. So, I wait. If I try hard enough I can hear muffled voices.  

There’s not much else I can do other than write back to you…How did you? How did you navigate through the smoke and flames? Trapped in place, waiting to be saved? I’m scared…just waiting to be saved. I had no idea this was the hell you went through.

Please, please, just let this be a terrible dream. Let this nightmare end. I can’t keep re-living it over and over and over again.

---

 

Notes:

Dude, I thought I was being original with the first floor, spare room, walls closing in scene. Come to find out another fic did it first. They did a super good job, very fun too! I’m hoping that our works are different enough in execution that these two interpretations can co-exist. Maybe if enough writers add this walls-closing space to their works, Frankie will add it to the game, lol.

--

We are at the halfway point! These 3 chapters have been done for some time, I just have been making some minor tweaks. I originally hoped to have the story completely finished prior to posting them, but I got surgery tomorrow and want to have something to entertain you with. It'll be at least a week before I can pick up writing the other half.

--
9/10: Came back for small edits, have a few more to do possibly by the time the whole thing is finished.

Chapter 4: Restorative

Notes:

CW: vertigo, nausea, and panic attacks. Specifically: catastrophic thinking, derealization and depersonalization. Somewhat detailed description of organs and anatomy.

♡: cuddling and flirty touches. Nonsexual investigation of body parts.

A familiar smell greeted Sam…fresh laundry. A pleasant reminder of running his bedsheets through the washer and dryer the evening prior. He thanked his past self for taking the initiative, given how often he procrastinated said chore. The simple satisfaction of lying in a freshly-made bed always made the effort worthwhile. Sam latched onto the tranquil sensation, yearning to be lulled back to sleep. The hidden layers of his mind had other plans. His legs twitched, urging the rest of his body to wake up. A dull pang crept up the back of his skull, signaling there would be no more rest. His shoulder blades pinched back in preparation of movement. Despite the distinctive cues, his body felt overall floaty. Sam’s eyes blinked open, directly at the blank ceiling. To the left, the neon green digits of his alarm clock spelled out 23:00. He rolled over, hoping he read it wrong. Facing the clock directly it still read 23:00. A yawn rolled off his tongue. Almost midnight? Really?

He sat upright, hand pressed against forehead. Sigh. Guess that’s what happens when you nap too long. Feet planted on the ground, he stood straight up. Vertigo promptly set in, tugging him sideways, as if he was just thrown by a swaying ship. His legs danced several paces until… CRASH. His body made full contact with the floor. The room continued to spin and tease his internal rhythm. When the dizziness refused to settle, he absently drew circles on the ground, just until his inner mind had realigned. The bedroom door swung open, followed by solid footsteps.

Hellen’s resonant voice reached out. “Are you okay?”

Afraid to disrupt his newfound sense of gravity, Sam kept his face pressed firmly into the ground. His smushed face managed to mutter a simple “…Yeah.”

Rugged hands reached down, grabbing his good arm to hoist him upright.

“D-don’t!” 

The ground was exactly where he needed to be in order to ride out this tidal wave. Hellen promptly, but carefully laid him back down. She remained kneeling next to him, warm hand placed upon his back.

“J-just let me rest. I’ll be fine soon.”

“How soon?” 

Sam grimaced, “I dunno…W-why?”

“We ran into trouble earlier.”

Sam’s head throbbed, the sharp tone and foreboding language only intensified his aching. Trouble? Oh…fuck…They didn’t go to Eugene’s did they??? FUCK.

Sam could barely sound out the single word, “W-where…?”

“Ground floor. Men’s bathroom.”

“H-huh?” 

This was…way different than what he feared. His guilt-ridden obsession over that shopkeep made it difficult to consider anything else going on in the apartment complex. Although, a monster lurking in the bathroom was hardly a cause for concern. A new question nagged him: Why couldn’t you guys handle this on your own?

Hellen continued, “First floor, unmarked apartment… Second floor, the eves between apartment 21… Third floor, hallway. It is everywhere.”  

Sam shut his eyes, trying to picture the spaces she was referring to. Continuous waves of nausea washed away any coherent thoughts. He gave up searching for any sort of pattern, instead turning his head towards Hellen. A terrible mistake, really. The room spiraled more intensely, with her uncovered face only adding to the visual distortion. A small whimper escaped his lips before he had the courtesy to stifle it. Hellen shrunk down, somewhat aware of her impact. With a disheartened sigh she put her mask on, adjusting the straps so that no unpleasant part of herself was visible. 

Sam groaned, irritated with himself for being too unwell to apologize and reconcile this social blunder. It took an incredible amount of willpower not to vomit. One deep breath in and out was enough to steady his gut. On the second deep breath in and out, he was able to carry on the conversation.  

“First floor you said? …The Masked Shadow and I were on the first floor this morning. We didn’t see anything strange then and…”

He paused. Caught off-guard by a new realization.

“…Actually, was that this morning? Afternoon? Or, was it yesterday? …Um. I know it was definitely after you smothered me with the couch.”

Hellen let out a small chuckle, “It was this afternoon." 

She adjusted her mask slightly, fluffing some tangled hair. “Sorry. I should’ve let you sleep then.”

Sam hummed, thankful for apology, especially coming from such a stoic woman.

“It’s all good. You must’ve been worried even then, huh?”

“Yes. And no… I didn’t fully realize what was going on…I still don’t. I had only spoken with the nurse this morning. She had been tasked with treating more patients than usual.” 

It finally clicked for Sam. “…That’s why those supplies were so important to you? To us?”

“Mhmmmm. The nurse had ran out. Mutt had ran out. Father Andrew was nowhere to be seen. And, Eugene was our last resort. Is our last resort, we need to try again. If not for the medical supplies, then for the weapons and ammunition.”

Sam rolled back over, face flattened against the floor. There’s that name again. Ruining Eugene’s life was gonna have much more disastrous consequences than he ever expected. Not that Eugene deserved to be reduced down to present and future utility, it was more-so another painful reminder of the ceaseless harm Sam brought forth. He was still truly and utterly disgusted with himself for condemning another human being to such endless torment. He quietly prayed that no one else would get hurt, despite doing nothing to intervene. Trapped in a pit of helplessness he had the privilege of throwing himself into. Disgusting. 

He was ready for the onslaught of self criticisms to continue, had Hellen not been waiting for a reply. Sam mustered enough backbone for a one-word response.   

“…Okay.” 

His voice reverberated into the floorboards. Hellen gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, before standing back on her feet.  

“Continue to rest. I’ll get the others ready.” 

Sam’s voice sounded even more pathetic, “…okay.”

He was inclined to say something more, to thoroughly confess his sins. But, the overwhelming nausea and guilt bubbled up his throat. He resumed his laborious, deep breathing exercises to compensate. Hellen stood overhead with an ominous, yet awkward demeanor. Primed to say something else. Sam secretly wished she would. That she’d voice any suspicions, compelling him to share the truth. No such luck. With a gruff Hmm… she walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. Sam faintly heard her scrounging around the shelves in the living room; followed by some high-pitch chatter, no doubt the children were curious about what transpired. 

Moments later, the bedroom door creaked back open. Someone with significantly lighter footsteps walked in.

“Uhh…hey buddy, you good?” The wavering voice clearly belonged to Dan.

‘Yeah. I’m fine.’ were the words Sam wanted to say. The words he tried to speak. But, couldn’t. 

“I uh…I fucked up really bad today.” Sam’s voice cracked on the last syllable.

“What? No! Don’t say that, man. You did great! Hellen was soooo stoked about the supplies you guys found today.”

“Supplies?”

“Yeah, buddy! All that medical stuff you and the umm… that shady friend grabbed today. It even found me those Bagel-O’s I’ve been dying for! 10 out of 10. That was a real sick haul. Worth passing out for, if you ask me.”

Sam vaguely recalled the drawer full of medical supplies. So, they actually made it home? It was a comfortable, but fleeting thought, as his mind was flooded with the other memories of that incident. That lone piece of furniture. Then the room itself. Walls closing in. The sound of grinding stone. Knees scraping floorboards. Jellied viscera. The pungent smell of herbicide. Woeful faces staring. Staring. STARING. STARING. STARING.

Sam’s deep breaths went shallow. The vibrant imagery overwhelmed his senses, in spite of all the other horrors he endured. This was different. Every other near-death experience had been handled with cunning, quick-wit, or brutal strength. His own perseverance reinforced his means to survive. Always willful and purposeful in execution. This most recent ordeal, however, was conquered through pure luck. Predicated on the Masked Shadow’s capacity to help. It held the threads of his fate. Nothing else saved him in that moment, but the creature he was so reluctant to trust.

That should’ve been relief enough. To acknowledge the creature’s willingness to help in his most dire time in need. But, no logic could dismiss the body’s racing adrenaline and quaking intestines. His chest tightened. Eyes strained. Head went fuzzy. The panic settled in for real as the images and emotions played on repeat. Sam heard weeping in the distance, yet the strain in his throat indicated that the cries belonged only to himself. A wobbly string of words played in the background.

“Awhhh, d-on -eel b-ad -boutah pahsin- outah! Hah-pns to da bes- uh us.”

Dan prattled on. A misplaced sort of kindness, even if Sam couldn’t make out the exact words. Still, it wasn’t enough to pull him out of this void, he wasn’t entirely sure if anything could. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop sobbing. Trapped in his mind. In the terror and horror of what could have been. Could still be. That room still existed. It could easily trap another unsuspecting visitor. Or, infect the rest of the apartment. Cause the whole thing to collapse on itself crushing everyone inside. His breathing hitched between sobs. The visualizations were too haunting, he couldn’t break free from them. He had to keep watching and listening to this imaginary horror unfold as if there was some conclusion he needed to draw from it. A puzzle that demanded to be solved, even if the future was inevitable. 

Between each new and horrid thought, his bedroom grew more distant. The lingering vertigo worsened his sense of place, practically threatening to toss him upside down. His only tether to reality was nails scraping the hardwood floor. Dan’s voice faded entirely, along with his light footfall. Sam could barely hear a creak, the door possibly shutting. 

Did he leave? Am I alone? 

He should’ve been grateful for the respite amidst the panic, a moment to completely unravel away from everyone else. Instead he felt isolated even further. Trapped, with no hope of escape. He tried to scream, to cry out for anyone but, his vocal cords collapsed on themself. He wasn’t even certain he was breathing any more. If he would ever draw breath again. He clenched his fist tightly, still aching from the stone-wall punch. He latched onto that pain, hoping for a semblance of relief. Before the feeling could escape a new sensation took hold. An odd, yet tender something brushed his hair, tickling his scalp. Followed by a finger tracing the back of his hand. The gentle impression momentarily broke him of his accursed thoughts. Sam relaxed his hand, then reached toward the trailing movement. A wispy hand wrapped around his, thumb pressing deeply in the center of his palm. With vocal cords too ragged to speak, his mind conjured a wish. 

Stay with me, please? 

It seemed to understand. A large blanket wrapped around him, lying down on the ground beside him. The fabric’s weight held him firmly in place, ensuring that gravity could no longer give way. A curved object rested beside his shoulder. He leaned in, feeling the indent of mask’s smile. For every moment his panic resurged another delicate hand manifested itself. Tapping his neck. Rubbing his aching shoulder. Squeezing his hand. Hugging his hip. Holding his entire body tight.

Sam was secure. Safe. Lying still for what could’ve been a blissful eternity. 

His sobs quieted down little by little. Delicate, ambient sounds re-entered his consciousness. He gained authority over his breath, comforted by the knowledge that his lungs had not failed him. Soon his whole body relaxed. The Masked Shadow seemed to understand this as well. Letting out its own gravely sigh as wispy arms relaxed all around him, softly resting in place. 

As more pieces of the world eased back into his periphery, Sam recognized the drool and snot lining the floor; the awful way his neck was angled and how painfully his jaw pressed into the hardwood. He gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position. The long blanket draped back, only covering a small portion of his shoulder. Looking at his desk, he could tell that things were still wobbly. He leaned back with a deep sigh. The Masked Shadow gently held him in place, ensuring that he would’t sway about. Its firm, but soothing presence was alluring enough for Sam to lean in closer. Sinking into the creature, nuzzling against it. Its fabric smelled of chamomile and roses. His hand slipped in-between the opening, hugging it close. The Masked Shadow quivered ever-so-slightly, unfamiliar with such a deep and intimate embrace. 

Sam wanted nothing to exist outside of this moment, but his reeling headache was the final piece to ground him back to reality. No matter how much time or rest had passed, he was unable to shake this peculiar illness.  

“I don’t understand. Why do I feel like this? It hasn’t been this bad before.”

He felt a small tug on the front of his sweater, followed by a tap on his chin. Looking up he gazed the Masked Shadow’s scarlet eyes. Sad. Worried. Perhaps even guilty. As if it was at fault for Sam’s predicament. It had done so much to help him, but…

…It was. Wasn’t it?

Before Sam’s world went spiraling out of control he was brought into a sanctuary of nothingness. He subdued the vividness of that memory. It was too surreal and incomprehensible. Perhaps this illness was a side effect of the strange creature’s influence? A small price to pay when compared to being smashed into a fine paste. But, still unbearable in its own ways. 

His voice croaked, “I’m sorry. Y-you tried to help me. You did help me.”

He was on the verge of tears. It smoothed his hair down, small fingers running through each curl. Yet, it continued to stare, wanting to understand. Sam desperately wanted to understand as well. 

“I know you mean well…but now I-I feel ill. I don’t know how to…fix me.”

His tone was stilted. Sam didn’t just want a fix for his medical woes, he wanted his entire self to be repaired. Not just the aching limbs. All of the awful thoughts, his cowardices, every piece of anxiety, and fear. GONE. To be completely re-arranged into something new and beautiful.

“Fix me, please?” He cried softly.

An act of god couldn’t even grant him that wish, yet he somehow believed the Masked Shadow could…But, why? He thought back to that first gift. The plump, warm tongue convulsing in his hand. Perfectly formed. No blood, cuts or tears to mar it. 

The Masked Shadow’s eyes dimmed for a moment, head tilted in contemplation. A wave of anxiety washed over Sam. His request was most certainly a death sentence. Asking this monster to dive in, re-arrange him in more splendid ways. A chuckle escaped his lips. Had he truly regained his composure if this was what he was asking for? Could his pathetic brain even handle such a change? Perhaps this odd request was the creature’s influence at work. Luring him back inside its robes for that final, permanent embrace. He resisted the suspicion. It would’ve done so earlier, had it truly wanted to. It didn’t need his permission to act. Yet, it wanted exactly that. Sam didn’t fully understand why those boundaries were so important to it. Why it happily played along with his request for space. It made him both uneasy and giddy. The thrill of not truly knowing, mixed with the feeling of safety as they tested each other’s boundaries. 

The Masked Shadow meant him well. It had good intentions, in the same way he held towards it. That was all he needed in that moment, no matter what hell may come. Tears ran down his face, caught by the cloak’s fabric.

Sam spoke with a bit more clarity, “I want you to fix me…” 

The Masked Shadow’s eyes widened then held him closer. He sunk in deeper. Teeth grazed his neck and chin. He could feel the void ready to swallow him whole. Several hands reached within his collar, breaking through skin. Pressing past tendon and tissue. Exploring. Evaluating. Some momentarily wandered off before reconvening at his core. Sam didn’t know what to make of the feeling. Strangely numbing. Less passionate and more investigative. Like a doctor’s examination at the clinic. The Masked Shadow had an inquisitive sort of look on its face. Sam giggled. He was truly insane for letting this unfledged being paw around his insides.

Satisfied with its preliminary search, it removed most of its hands. Only two remained inside, dancing up his vertebrae to the base of his skull. The two hands split to either side of his head, brushing past cheekbone to his forehead. Massaging his temples, they cautiously slipped into each ear canal. Fingers tracing each swirling path before residing in a secluded space. The fingers pinched what felt like small grains of sand, rubbing them together. As the sand shifted, so did Sam’s balance. He swayed to and fro. Held firm only by the Shadow’s many exterior hands. Pressure filled both ears before dissipating entirely as the slender hands finally departed. They returned to rest behind his back, propping him up.

Sam blinked several times over. He reluctantly pulled himself away from the hug, glancing around the room with renewed perspective.

“H-holy shit. Did you just?”

The Masked Shadow nodded bashfully, almost unsure of itself. He smiled, taking another moment to look around. Not fully convinced by this remedy. One hand squeezed his arm; he looked back at the being. It tapped two fingers to its smile then traced them to Sam’s chest, before booping him on the nose as if to say: all better?

Sam pressed two fingers to his lips, then carried them up to the mask. It leaned in to close the distance, catching the gentle offering on its top lip. 

“Thank you.” Sam whispered.

He settled back into place, content with the Masked Shadow’s hold. Some time had passed as he eased back into his refreshed senses. Not quite ready to take on the world. Sam tugged the cloak’s fabric tightly. He inattentively spoke.  

“We need to find out what Hellen and the others found.”

 

---

I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. The pain was getting to be too much and I panicked. I really need a distraction more than anything. So, let’s talk about something else.

You know those muffled voices I told you about? Sometimes I can hear them more clearly. A man and woman, I believe. Their conversations are so casual, I don’t think they realize what’s going on. How bad things have gotten.

I ought to not be so judgmental of them. The woman, she encourages me to write these letters. And the other man has been helping run the shop when I’m not around. They tried to invite me into more of their conversations, but I just don’t mesh very well. Small talk was never my strong suit, you know this. I guess it’s easier to just do nice things for people. To show them that you care.

Maybe that’s why I like these letters? It’s the best of both. Talking and giving a little gift. I am glad that you still care about me, even if we would never work out.

---

 

Notes:

There’s a myriad of health issues represented in this chapter, some which I have more personal experience than others. With that said, benign paroxysmal positional vertigo (BPPV) was the primary one I set out to write for. Essentially, the ear’s inner crystals that help detect head movement can become dislodged. Causing your body to misinterpret changes in position which affect your sense of gravity. This causes vertigo, especially as you turn or tilt your head.

I thought it would make for an interesting consequence to Masked Shadow’s impromptu rescue mission.

Chapter 5: Gutsy

Notes:

CW: Lots of violence, body horror, detailed descriptions of blood and gore, as well as brief vomiting.

♡: more cuddling and flirty touches.

♫: Nestor’s visual style of speaking reflects that of the game. I kept the passages of his dialogue short to minimize eyestrain. If it helps, I imagine his voice sounding similar to “The Master” from Fallout 1, albeit with a bit more overlap/blending.

Sam stood in the middle of the room, stretching his arm up, down, and around. Followed by a butt wiggle to check if his legs were actually ready to hold his weight. The Masked Shadow watched from off the side, entranced by his little aerobics dance. Sam chuckled to himself, still awestruck over how well his friend’s remedy had worked. A nice cuddle and couple tweaks inside his ears was what he needed. Not an exhaustive dissection of body and mind. He was reluctant to accept that fact, as a small part of him still felt unworthy. That entity agreed only to admire Sam’s biological architecture, not fundamentally alter it. Despite those desperate pleas to be fixed. That reality sank in deeper. How much it cherished Sam in his entirety, flaws included. 

He snuck a peek at his friend between stretches. It leisurely swayed in place, arms wiggling as if mimicking his choreography. Sam’s lips parted into an adoring smile, inviting it into his personal bubble. The Masked Shadow glided over, wrapping itself within the negative space that outlined his figure. Sam continued on with his routine. It twirled around, watching with great interest, only startling when he popped several joints in his neck. His gratified sigh eased its concern. With the next movement, Sam extended one arm up while reaching slightly backwards. His sweater lifted slightly, just so his belly was visible. A multitude of airy hands reached over to feel his stomach. He protested between several giggles, tugging his shirt back down. 

“Hey, hey! Not so grabby. We’ve got important things to do.”

The hands rescinded, thumbs now twiddling together. Its hood slumped over. Sam frowned, seeing how he ought to make amends. 

“Listen…We can…touch each other later, okay?”

His face turned a bright shade of red. How else was he meant to phrase that? The Shadow hid its mask behind a cascading sleeve, fanning itself away from all this hot embarrassment. Its two eyes finally peered up, unable to resist ogling him. Sam shivered, giving it a faint-hearted smile.

“Okay?”

It nodded gleefully before stepping away from his personal space. Sam diverted his attention to bedroom door. Opening it, he peeked into the living room. Empty. With lights off. Most everything packed up and put away. The others must’ve left…who-knows how long ago. He shuffled over to the coffee table, backpack and weapons laid neatly out. Glancing back, the grandfather clock pointed at exactly 6:26. Several hours passed since his initial wake-up call.

Shit. Anything could’ve happened in that amount of time. Why didn’t they wait for me, like Hellen promised?

Sam fought the urge to ruminate on the awful ways his companions could’ve already met their end. Either stumbling into Eugene’s shop or getting ambushed by some other Cursed. No. That spindly fuck Nestor had nothing on the rest of his crew. None of these bastards did. He exhaled a sharp breath, then poked his head back into the bedroom. The Masked Shadow was idly playing with the rose in his vase. Its entire form twirled toward him, with a sultry look as if to say: is it later already?

“The others are gone…”

The creature trembled with anticipation. Adjusting its mask and fixing some uneven folds of fabric. Waiting for those next splendid words. 

“…Which leaves us with finding Eugene. We need to resolve things at his shop.”

It stood motionless. Not the words it was yearning for. Rolling its eyes, it waddled over to join him in the living room. Sam swore he heard it emit a sigh of disappointment as it passed by. He slung his backpack over his good shoulder.

“Uh…Care to join me?”

His friend continued pouting while its head nonchalantly bobbed up and down. Followed by a thumbs up. 

“Good!”

Stuff already arranged, the two made their exit. Outside the front door Sam fussed with his pockets, struggling to find his house keys. An additional palm cupped his backside, causing him to jump. The Masked Shadow crept past his shoulder, dangling the key. That immovable smile was teasing him, seeing what it could get away with. He gently took the keys and issued a half-hearted warning, “Behave.”

Sam locked the door, to which the Masked Shadow reached back over and snagged the key. It so lovingly slid the item into his back pocket. With a final squeeze to ensure everything was secure. Satisfied, it leaned back and waltzed down the hall. Sam followed suit. As much as he enjoyed the flirty distraction, this situation called for urgency. Everyone else’s safety was paramount, including Eugene’s, god-willing.

The walk downstairs was far quicker than he hoped. There wasn’t enough time to plot a strategy through the immense pile of guilt and what-ifs. The two stopped directly in front of apartment 24. The whole floor was oddly quiet. Sam held his breath, puffing out his cheeks. Now or never. With a quick flick of his wrist, he turned the doorknob and stepped through the threshold. The shop was brightly lit and the floors were glistening. The counters themselves were lined with a plethora of goodies. Better than any pre-apocalypse gas station or pharmacy. The Masked Shadow looked equally impressed, jutting its mask forward as it inspected the peculiar space. A few unpacked boxes sat in the corner, untouched ever since the day Eugene left. Interestingly, there was no host in sight. Sam seized the opportunity to examine the room more thoroughly. No sign of recent struggle. Good. More than anything, he wanted confirmation that the party hadn’t initiated their own visit to the shop. Hellen’s indifference must’ve meant she still counted on him to get this one simple chore done. The back door creaked opened and in walked Eugene…err, Nestor. 

“WeLComE iN, My FrIEnD!” 

The pitch in Nestor’s voice was jarring. As if certain syllables were stolen straight out of Eugene’s trachea to compensate for the parasite’s own warbling pseudo-head. It wasn’t just the two guys that worried Sam. There was also an extra excitable squeak annunciating the word “friend” as Rafta momentarily chimed in to greet their guest.

“WE MiSseD YoU!”

Rafta’s voice shone more brightly there. Her bubbly enthusiasm modeled after a delighted housewife inviting friends over for dinner. Sam avoided direct eye contact, afraid of their duplicitous gaze. And that sickly sweet tone… He was unsure of how much he could reasonably despise either of them. Caught in a tangled mess of guilt and morals, looking for any leverage to justify smashing Nestor’s worm-riddled brain. He wanted to leave this shop, hands bloodied, but mind clear; convinced this would be closer to a mercy killing, not a murder. Just like Joel’s parents. Sam shook the jitters out of his hand, then shut the entry door behind him and the Masked Shadow.

“…Hi. It’s been awhile.”

“I SeE YoU BRouGht A cOMpanIoN toO! WoULd tHeY lIKe TO bRowsE OUR wAreS?”

“Possibly. Yeah. We’re looking to stock up on medical supplies and bombs if you have them…Unless someone else has already cleaned you out?”

Sam began walking the store with a half-casual gait. Perusing the assortment of medicines while keeping an eye on Nestor.

“OoH! DoN’t YoU fRet. We hAvE PLenTy. ThE sHOp’s bEen SO QuIeT tHe PaST feW dAyS. YOu’Re acTuaLly oUr fIRsT CusToMeR!”

First? So, that confirms it. No one else stopped by yet. 

Sam placed a hand over his mouth to hide his smile, “Really? That’s too bad. You always have such great prices.” 

“GlAd YoU tHiNK sO tOo, FrIEnd! TrUtHFulLy, iT’s bEen a BiT oF a rELieF. RAfTa hAs BeEn SO bUsY wItH HOuSeKeEPiNg, I’Ve bEEn NeEdInG tHe eXtRA TiMe tO HELP hEr out. BuT, PLEASE tAkE a LoOk aRoUnD! We HaVe mUcH tO oFfEr.”

Nestor positioned himself by the far corner, watching and waiting. The Masked Shadow picked up a first aid kit, examining it with an exaggerated curiosity. Sam mouthed the words ‘Put it back’ as it attempted to stash the item underneath its robe. It followed his instruction ever-so reluctantly. Sam turned his attention back to Nestor.

“I’m sorry…Did you say h-housekeeping?”

“WHy YeS. YEs, I dId. ThE oThEr PARTS of mE…ThEy’Ve bEEn SPREADING. BRaNcHinG oFf iNtO alL paRts of tHe aPaRtmENt. HaVe yOu noT sEeN tHeM? BEcAuSE I heAr thEm. TheY aRe qUiTe coNtEnT wiTh tHeiR NeW hoMe. It HURTS knoWinG thAt tHEy’Ve moVed oN, bUt RaFta haS bEeN SO incrEdibLy pLeaSed, uS bOth reAlly. SHe’s aLrEaDy dOnE so MUCH, I jUsT wiSh I coUlD HELP arOuNd moRe.” 

Sam shuddered at the recent memory of Nestor’s limbs detaching themselves from his torso. Scattering in opposite directions upon receiving the first strike of his frying pan. He should’ve pursued those as well, but was instead so focused on eliminating the head that he ignored the other pieces. Upon witnessing Eugene be directly parasitized, he blanked out their existence entirely. Sam wondered… 

“Oh y-yeah those. What are they up to now?”

“OH…LEt’S sEe. MY hAnD reStS iN tHe laByRiNth, tEnDinG tO thEiR bRoOD. My leG tOoK reFuGe wIth a fRiend iN thE meN’s reStrOom. AnD my tOrSo? WaTcHiNg ovEr RAfTa’s hoMe. ThaT piPe beTwiXt tHe twO fLooRs.”

Sam stared credulously. God, why did that sound so familiar?

Nestor continued on, “I tHouGht a fEw HaTchLInGs hAd maDe tHeIr waY tO thE thIrD fLoOr. SaY…tHAt’s whEre yoU liVe iSn’T iT? You hAvEn’t seEn mY bAbIes bY cHaNce? THeY’vE beEn So qUiet laTelY…”

The Masked Shadow perked up at the question, dodging both of their glances as it inspected the zipper of a leather jacket. Sam gave it a concerned look before telling Nestor the honest truth.

“No.”

“HmMm. THat’S tOo bAd.”

Sam went back to shopping, taking note over everything in stock. An unanswered question still nagged him, followed by the realization. Nestor’s words mirrored almost exactly what Hellen described the night prior. The supposedly two different dilemmas were one-in-the same. 

Son-of-a-bitch. 

This is all my fault. Gahhhhhh. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Sam took a few quick breaths to calm his nerves, he tapped the counter as his eyes darted across the room. Maybe Eugene could wait a bit longer… He’d just have to find Hellen first. Nestor interrupted his thoughts almost as if Sam had spoken them aloud.

“OH! SpeAkiNg oF…I thInK wE’Ll bE mAkInG mOre fRiEnds veRy soOn!”

“M-more?”

“YEs! DoWn bY tHe pipE. SoMe iDioTs gaVe ofFeNsE, buT toRsO iS haNdlInG iT quIte rEmARkaBlY, theY’lL be paCiFieD soOn.”

Oh no.  

Sam didn’t need to ask, those were certainly his idiots in question. His elbow bumped a can of tonic, knocking it off the counter. He frantically chased it as it rolled across the floor. Picking it back up, Sam was now face-to-face with the bloated abomination. Pupils fixed in place, Nestor’s wide smile waited patiently. His good eye glanced the can in Sam’s hand.

“SaY…WoUlD yOu lIkE tO BuY tHis?”

Nestor’s fingers wrapped around the top of the container, gripping Sam’s knuckles. 

“…Uhhhhh…N-no thanks.”

He tried to squeeze out of the grubby vise, whilst handing over the tonic to the shopkeep. Nestor’s hand did not budge. But, something underneath his collar did.

“On second thought, I think I left my wallet at home. I-I’ll be back…in like f-five minutes?”

Sam looked at the Masked Shadow, which was eyeing their exchange quite curiously. Unable to catch a clue. Sam tried again to pull his hand away. Nestor refused to let go, using his free hand to pry away the tonic and place it on the counter. Nestor’s fingers coiled in-between Sam’s. They clamped down with an intense, intimidating pressure. Or, maybe it was the panicked grasp of Eugene? Begging him not to leave.

“NoT a PrOBleM! EuGeNe sAyS iTs oKaY to sTaRt a TaB fOR yoU. JuSt sTaY pUt foR a biT wHiLe WE tIe uP soMe lOoSe eNdS. AHaAHa.”

Nestor’s head tilted sideways. Leaning a little too far right until it slumped over entirely. Snapping like rubber bands as it peeled away from the collarbone. No longer attached to anything. Red tendrils emerged from underneath Eugene’s hoodie, slowly clawing upward and out. Sam leaned back as far back as possible, hand still ensnared. The Masked Shadow briefly glanced over before returning to its shopping, presumably convinced that this was just how typical humans behaved.

“Uhhhhh…Help? HELP!?”

The Masked Shadow jumped, frantically eyeing them both. Nestor grinned, taking full advantage of Sam’s panic. A large tendril lunged at his screaming tonsils. Sam narrowly dodged it. He continued screaming with his mouth shut tight. Several more tendrils snapped at him. He danced around, dodging each one while his arm was anchored in place. After the third dodge, his foot slipped on the floor, sliding him directly into Nestor. That bloated face now a fraction away from his.

“OH, soRrY. I jUsT mOpPeD tHe fLoOrS eArLiEr toDay. I’Ll remEmbEr tO put uP a caUtiOn sIGn neXt tImE.”

Several smaller tendrils caressed Sam’s face, gently bringing him closer into a terrible embrace. Sam hissed between his teeth. Both feet sliding on the floor, unable to gain any traction as he desperately tried to skitter away. Nestor’s head lifted as a pink, elongated maw poised itself to devour Sam’s face. The Masked Shadow had seen enough, rapidly skirting around several tables in order to close the distance. Before the shopkeep could react, the creature threw a backhanded slap across Nestor’s cheek. Both him and the pink maw turned to look at the new threat. A second palm swiftly struck the other cheek. Followed by a third and a fourth. Nestor look a bit stupefied, as if hosting a multitude of appendages was somehow foreign to him. Sam capitalized on the moment by swinging his arm back. It wasn’t enough. Instead, the sudden force caused his wrist to dislocate, firing jolts of pain and tingling numbness up the entirety of his arm. Sam fell onto the ground, hand still held firm by Nestor. He screamed in agony as the parasite pulled him to his feet. Nestor relished the pitiful cries before flinging him across the room; sending him crashing into a pile of old boxes. The parasitic head completely abandoned Eugene’s body, unceremoniously dropping the dead weight to the ground. 

No longer burdened, Nestor lunged directly at the Masked Shadow. A whole host of tendrils wrapped around its mask and neck. Several hands slipped outside its robe, catching and tearing the intruding appendages. A violent struggle ensued. 

Sam pried himself away from the mess of cardboard. He carelessly pressed his palm into ground to prop himself up, the resulting jolts of pain sent him plummeting back onto the floor. He opted for using his elbow on the second attempt. Crawling behind a counter as to not draw any attention. Sam watched in horror as the two monstrosities ripped each other apart. Nestor’s maw found an opening, seizing the mask and clamping down hard. The Masked Shadow seemed unable to fend it off. CRUNCH. The material warped as the mask began crumpling under the jaw’s pressure. CRUNCH. New cracks emerged from the old. CRUNCH. The lower corner chipped away, dangling off its broken smile. 

Sam tore a machete out of his backpack in a mad fury. The item’s weight scorched the nerves in his wrist. He pushed through the pain to take one wild swing at the maw. The blow landed, but with such little force that it bounced off its skin. His hand recoiled, dropping the machete. Another piece of the mask splintered off, landing beside it. Looking up to them both, Sam could see the Masked Shadow silently folding under the pressure, hands struggling against the ceaseless tendrils. Sam grabbed the hilt of the machete and plunged the blade into Nestor’s good eye. The monster screeched, dropping his hold on the Masked Shadow. The head flailed wildly; several appendages lunging in Sam’s direction. He ducked to the side, then dropped to the ground, attempting to crawl out of reach. This gave his friend the necessary advantage. Its red eyes narrowed onto its target, new arms materialized from underneath the cloak, striking with surgical precision. Unraveling a multitude of teeth and tendrils with such a smooth motion, that it momentarily delayed Nestor’s nerve receptors. A sudden symphony of pain overwhelmed him, sending him onto the floor. Nestor slid just outside the Masked Shadow’s reach before it could ensnare him. New strings of red filament burst out from the severed head, clutching the wall and propping him upright. He glanced around the room with faulty vision. Sam kept low and close to the counter, heartbeat ringing in his ears. 

“ooHo, SaM! WhEN I fInD yOu, FRiEnD. YoU’Re GoNna wIsH for SWeeT, swEeT deAtH!”

He cackled with a sadistic twang. Being on the receiving end of such brutality renewed Nestor’s bloodlust. He clawed at the air with greater ferocity. The Masked Shadow dodged him with ease. Nestor flashed a wicked grin. A change of tactics was clearly in order. Several appendages wrapped around the blade’s hilt. With a disgusting slorp, the machete slid out from his eye. He swung the blade in a continuous frenzy. The blade successfully struck the Masked Shadow, wedging itself within a crevice of the creature’s mask. Nestor adjusted his grip, pressing down on the hilt like a pry bar. CRACK! He giggled at the pleasurable sound. Sam watched helplessly as another piece of the mask broke off. This was his fight, yet his friend was taking all the hits. Sam scrambled in place, looking for some other way to turn the tide. 

A speck of movement caught his eye. Eugene, dragging himself across the floor. There was too much blood to tell how badly wounded he was. He ought to be fucking dead, considering how badly Nestor distorted his head and neck upon that initial intrusion. Maybe he technically is now? Muscles still spasming, unaware of the soul’s departure. Sam warily crept over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Eugene trembled, then turned his torso back. Small worms wriggled out of his mouth and eye sockets like maggots bursting out of a corpse. 

Sam screamed, clambering back into the open to create distance. Nestor perked up at the noise, attempting to tear himself away from the fight to chase his most desired prey. The Masked Shadow did not relent, plucking the hostile offshoots from their core. Nestor hissed. Several of his appendages reached across the counter, grabbing bolts and daggers to toss at Sam while it continued to wrestle the other entity. One knife grazed Sam’s cheek before he managed to find cover. In a final bit of rage, Nestor thrusted the remaining sharp objects into the Masked Shadow’s gut. Impaling the creature and pinning it against the wall. Its ethereal hands let go of him, now working towards freeing itself.

Nestor’s head jumped onto the table; his maw swung upward, latching onto the ceiling light. Pulling himself upward, he scanned the room with a bird’s eye view. A spiky brown and purple blob caught the attention of his swollen left eye.

“AhA! THeRe yOu aRe!”

Nestor plummeted down, barely scraping Sam’s shoulder as he leapt to the side. The fearful man darted across the room, repositioning himself between a table as the parasite quickly trailed behind. Sam swiped a random bottle as a large tendril swept the remaining items off the counter. Nestor grappled the far edges of the table, catapulting himself forward. Sam smashed the bottle against Nestor’s teeth, sending shattered glass and acid across the monster’s face. He staggered backwards, struggling to wipe away the sizzling liquid. Sam peered behind the parasite to witness Eugene’s body still fumbling about, bumping into the tables and knocking merchandise onto the ground. One hand rested on something green and egg-shaped. Both hands clasped it intently. 

A terrible epiphany took hold. 

Sam positioned himself just beyond Nestor, yelling out, “EUGENE! GIVE IT HERE!”

The man-corpse shook with recognition, turning towards the voice. Cupping the green egg, one hand shakily pulled a metal pin, before tossing it over. Nestor greedily intercepted the projectile, inspecting it closely. Barely visible to his bulging eye. Seconds before the explosion, the Masked Shadow grabbed Sam from behind, wrapping him in a blanketed embrace as flames scorched the room. 

An unknown amount of time passed. Sam only heard his own heartbeat. Followed by the apartment walls and floors settling. Vision returned as the robes peeled back, unveiling the charred remains of Nestor scattered across the room. Eugene was nowhere to be seen.

“Eugene? EUGENE!?”

Sam ran forward in a mad, desperate search. The Masked Shadow hobbled close behind, prodding the littered appendages. Ensuring each piece of Nestor was truly dead. Behind a particularly sturdy counter Sam found Eugene. Lying on the floor, writhing in pain. Singed worms frantically wriggled out from his orifices. The gruesome sight made Sam sick. Without hesitation he ran for a gun. A pistol lying on the ground, previously for sale. With only one hand to help, he fumbled with the magazine, then hastily loaded it with the contents a nearby ammo box. Everything clicked into place, he turned off the safety, then approached Eugene. Aiming it square between those hollowed out eyes. 

“…I’m so sorry.”

Finger poised above the trigger. Hand trembling from the searing pain and gut-wrenching guilt. He closed his eyes not able to stomach looking at the man. 

 

---

Where are you now? Are you still here? I just need to know that somewhere in the world you are still okay. I am not okay. That’s why I need to know that you’re safe. One of us has to be. Because I can’t reach you. 

Most of the voices have passed, but I can still feel them inside me. The residual stitches they sewed in place. They’ll spread, I just know it. Make them stop. Please.

No. No no no no. Stop! RIPPING, TEARING, STRETCHING. I can’t take it!

STOP! 

MAKE IT STOP!

---

 

“MAKE IT STOP!”

Sam’s eyes opened wide. Gargled cries echoed throughout the store. Sam lowered his pistol, gawking at the Masked Shadow as it towered over Eugene. Its many, bloody hands at work. Dislodging the remainder of worms and unweaving parasitic intestines. All while gently cradling his eyeballs, still connected by a strand of flesh. Eugene expelled the remaining viscera and bile on the floor. Coughing and gasping as the Masked Shadow worked the final pieces of Eugene back inside his skull. Two hands pushed through his skin, quietly combing through the fragile neck muscles and vertebrae, synching them back into place. Although its efforts were thorough, Sam knew that Eugene wouldn’t ever be the same. 

He placed the gun on the counter, opting for the nearest coat to drape over Eugene’s back. In tandem, the two carried Eugene away from the disgusting mess. The Masked Shadow held him up and patted his back soothingly while Sam ran for an assortment of medical supplies. Eugene’s breaths were sharp and shallow. Sam consoled him while he worked. Guilt crept back in as he tended to the man’s surface wounds. He couldn’t ignore the haunted look on Eugene’s face. Eyes slowly blinking, adjusting to his new reality. Sam felt absolutely monstrous, just as vile as (if not worse than) Nestor. He continued issuing soft apologies and promises of comfort. Although Eugene couldn’t respond, he seemed to listen. The two stuck by long enough to stabilize their patient, just as he drifted off to sleep. Sam exhaled a tired sigh. He looked to the Masked Shadow. Cloak tattered, hands shaky, and broken mask barely being held in place.

“Y-you okay?”

It nodded exhaustedly. Sam planted a kiss on its remaining cheek. 

“I-I need you to stay here and watch after Eugene. I gotta go find Hellen. Understand?”

It hurt his heart to ask it of this, leaving them both in such a dire state. The mask bumped his forehead, nodding assuredly. 

“Thank you. Stay safe.”

Sam planted another kiss on its brow, before pulling away. He hopped to his feet and snatched whatever supplies he could reasonably carry, pistol included. Gone in a flash, he sprinted down the hall to apartment 21. Lungs burning and legs shaking, he pushed his way inside the apartment, past the bathroom, and through the opening. He jumped down the stairs into the fractured, liminal space. It was eerily quiet. Only illuminated by his ragged breath and squeaking mice.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where are you guys?

He looked over to where the pipe ought to be. A large mass of flesh blocked the way. Its appendages extended all over the room. Like a tree rooted in place. Some of the rats were nibbling away at it. It’s dead, isn't it? But… 

One gargantuan worm sluggishly raised itself upward, a strained voice crept out. “Come closer…Let me have a taste!”

Sam took a step back, he felt something creep up his back and onto his shoulder. He screamed bloody murder, jumping to the side with pistol ready. Two orange eyes gazed back, hoisting up a severed tendril. The thing smiled wickedly as a cacophony of laughter rang out. Leigh’s face emerged as she tossed the appendage aside. 

A harsh voice rang out, “Oh my fucking god! You got him so good! Holy shit. I didn’t think that would work!” 

Sam turned toward the other voice in disbelief. Xaria had thrown down the other worm, clenching her gut in a fit of laughter. Hellen stepped out of the darkness letting out a gruff sigh. Sophie followed closely behind. Hand tugging and swaying with Harriet’s.

Sophie grinned. “See! See!!! I told you it would! Sam is such a scaredy cat!”

Harriet rolled her eyes, tugging up Sophie’s hand. “Hush. That’s enough out of you, child.”

A blue, ominous being rolled into view. Jeanne. Laughing awkwardly herself.

“Haha. Okay. Okay. I think we’ve done enough! S-sorry, Sam. Hellen thought you were gonna catch up a lot sooner than you did. We got bored.” 

The residual pain and fear, left Sam perplexed. Was this some kind of a prank? He eventually caught his breath and cried out. “I-I thought you guys were dead!!!”

“Dead? What gave you that idea?” Leigh asked.

Sam’s voice cracked, “Nestor did! H-he took over Eugene’s body and the shop! And, and said that there was trouble down here so I came as quickly as I could.”

Xaria groaned, “Calm your tits! You mean that fuckin’ slag over there? Dead. We killed it pretty quick.”

Harriet spoke up, “Watch your language, young woman!” 

“Huh? Sorry. That fucking garbage pile got completely eviscerated by us.”

Sam kept blubbering, “W-what about the others? Are they safe?”

Leigh chimed back in, “The men? Also, dead and gone. Hehe. You’re all that’s left.”

Jeanne went to bat for Sam. “Ah. Don’t scare him like that. He’s clearly already dealt with enough.”

Leigh snarked back. “Tch. Fine! They’re probably having a pissing contest in the men’s bathroom.”

Harriet interrupted their banter. “Both of you simmer down. Besides, Mr.Papineau would never entertain such an idea.”

Hellen laughed, “True.”

Sam wasn’t entirely convinced. “How? How do you know???” 

Sophie smiled, “Cause we scared the pants off Lyle! Hahaha! He’s just as big of a baby as you!”

Jeanne’s face grew into an embarrassed smile, “While we were uh…waiting for you down here, Lyle stopped by to tell us everything was okay. The guys ran into some trouble too, but nothing they couldn’t handle. We accidentally ended up startling him as well.”

Sam put his palm to his face as he sat on the ground. Thank my lucky fucking stars you’re all okay. 

Xaria piped up. “Uhh. I wouldn’t sit there, there’s like…blood and rat shit everywhere.”

Tears began quietly streaming down his face.

Leigh cackled, “Hehehhe. Oh, no~ We broke him!”

Sam began sobbing. Happy. Sad. Relieved. Terrified. Everything wrapped into one messed up package. He didn’t care that he had a whole audience of women (and one small child) watching. Hellen eventually walked over, soda can in hand. He gently reached for it, noticing text printed on the label.

| So sorry, Sam!!! That was kinda mean, huh? You know we love you, right??? P.S. If you need any more ginger ale, I have puh-lenty in stock!!! |

The remainder of the note was filled with cute hearts, people hugging, and happy faces. Sam smiled through the tears, glancing up to catch Audrey’s brightly colored eyes looking over. He gave her a nod and a quiet ‘thank you’ before stowing the can in his backpack. The ladies continued their happy conversation while he stayed put, slowly recovering from the entire ordeal. As his cries quieted down, a peculiar sound cut through the chatter. Sobbing. Sam went silent, hoping these were just echoes of his own. The crying continued. He stood, absently stumbling over fleshy rubble to investigate.

Softly. Quietly. Exhaustedly. He heard it speak.

“…Why? Why did he have to go??? What did I do wrong?…What is wrong with me???”

The creaky voice reverberated through the pipe. Sam climbed over the torso’s remains to investigate. Hellen yanked his collar before he got too close. The voice continued.

“…I’m…so…tired…so…alone…”

Something ached in Sam’s heart, his strained voice called out. “Rafta?”

“…You…did…this…didn’t… you? I…We just wanted to be happy…You stole that from us…Why couldn’t you be happy for us too?…”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. Looking over to the pipe he saw the small worm wriggle out. Different than the piece that slithered its way in to Nestor’s eye. Was this the true Rafta? Or, another shedded piece of her? How much more was really leftover? Without thinking, Sam extended his hand toward her. All other conversations halted, as they watched him in silence. 

Xaria’s voice rang, “What the fuck are you doing? Squash that thing, right now!”

Sam ignored the warning, holding his hand firm. Rafta crawled into his palm, residing at its center. Two small legs reached for his thumb, tugging it close as she leaned her head against it. She was cold, in need of warmth. Sam cupped her gently.

“I’m so sorry, Rafta. I-it wasn’t meant to be…”

Rafta said nothing. Her body curled together as she fell asleep. Sam cradled her close.