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She glanced around slowly, the pain in her neck and back made her cringe with pain as she strained to see behind her. The corridor she'd chosen as her sanctuary had seemed like a good idea until the adrenaline had begun to drain and she'd crashed to the floor in crippling pain, now she didn't know if they would find her and if they did if she had any chance of getting away. She couldn't hear any footsteps or indications of anyone's arrival but that didn't mean anything here, the soft rubbery floors and indoor shoes worn by everybody meant that you were unlikely to get any warning of their arrival. Sam realised she had no idea how long she'd been waiting there, but it felt like hours as each movement felt like it was ripping apart every bit of soft tissue in her body.
As her legs twitched she stared down at them and had her throat not been nearly closed up she no doubt would have released a scream, they were turning green; there was barely a bit of peachy skin left. Her mind span through the previous events; what could possibly have done this to her legs? She stared at her bare toes and wondered if they would still move on demand but couldn't face testing it as the pain produced a misty haze through which she could feel everything drifting away. As her eyes began to close she just saw a flash of white but despite the panic she couldn't fight to stay conscious any longer.
As Sam came round she realised that they'd moved her to somewhere new, it had the same smell as everywhere else in the dungeon but she didn't recognised it. Forcing herself to move, she ached but managed to pull herself to sit upright, her hands making indents against the soft floor. There was no sign of them, but no doubt they done what they wanted to her whilst she had blacked out. She began checking herself, suddenly remembering the green of her legs she tore at the white sheet they'd covered her with. Seeing them again the pain vanished for a few minutes as she dug her bastardised finger nails into her skin, somebody kept cutting them off, and with some determination she still managed to remove some of the green skin. The satisfaction of the gentle drip of blood down her legs into a small puddle on the floor.
Charlie turned to her husband, her face sunken and tears welling up. Every time she swore she wouldn't cry but it was hard not to as she watched her daughter battle with herself until she had to be sedated. It had been 3 years and each time they visited it was worse; for the past 6 months they hadn't even managed to be noticed by her as the deranged fantasy took her to a place of fear and terror. The last time she'd spoken to Sam she had asked to die but there was no chance of that in a facility so well staffed, so aware of the dangerous nature of their patients and as much as she hated to think about it if she was in Sam's place would she too desire the freedom of death?
She'd never wanted to put her daughter away, for months they had kept Sam at home; keeping everything that could be even have the slight possibility of causing harm away from her, watching her next to constantly and sitting with her whilst the episodes took away what little control Sam had of her actions. But that was nothing in comparison to how bad she'd got since they had to check her in and both parents knew they could never cope with this at home, how can you when it becomes a rarity for her to even be lucid? But it was still hard to relinquish responsibility and whilst physically she was next to pristine it was undeniable that her mental state had reached a state which was unbearable to watch, and often left her parents wondering what it was like being inside it.
Watching her daughter being sedated brought back memories of when she could actually help Sam; when she was young and hurt herself in moments of hyperactivity which both parents had put down to a youthful joy for life, her mother would often hold her until she fell asleep peacefully in her arms. Yet sedation wasn't quite the same; the look of peacefulness, the sprawling limbs and sudden slump were still there but Charlie felt this hideous guilt every time, as Sam faded away nobody was there to hold her and kiss her forehead.
With both her hands dripping with her own blood Sam looked up, raising her hands above her head Sam looked straight ahead noticing for the first time a bright white light with three shadows, ignoring the normal white shadow she looked straight upon her mother and ran to the window, arms still risen. Charlie saw her daughter make a sudden movement towards her and was overjoyed, maybe she recognises me. Sam was torn apart with anger the woman who gave her away and the desperate hope that she'd come to take her back. Just as she reached the window Sam saw them, and she grabbed her hair and screamed with fear.

Description

She glanced around slowly, the pain in her neck and back made her cringe with pain as she strained to see behind her. The corridor she'd chosen as her sanctuary had seemed like a good idea until the adrenaline had begun to drain and she'd crashed to the floor in crippling pain, now she didn't know if they would find her and if they did if she had any chance of getting away. She couldn't hear any footsteps or indications of anyone's arrival but that didn't mean anything here, the soft rubbery floors and indoor shoes worn by everybody meant that you were unlikely to get any warning of their arrival. Sam realised she had no idea how long she'd been waiting there, but it felt like hours as each movement felt like it was ripping apart every bit of soft tissue in her body.
As her legs twitched she stared down at them and had her throat not been nearly closed up she no doubt would have released a scream, they were turning green; there was barely a bit of peachy skin left. Her mind span through the previous events; what could possibly have done this to her legs? She stared at her bare toes and wondered if they would still move on demand but couldn't face testing it as the pain produced a misty haze through which she could feel everything drifting away. As her eyes began to close she just saw a flash of white but despite the panic she couldn't fight to stay conscious any longer.
As Sam came round she realised that they'd moved her to somewhere new, it had the same smell as everywhere else in the dungeon but she didn't recognised it. Forcing herself to move, she ached but managed to pull herself to sit upright, her hands making indents against the soft floor. There was no sign of them, but no doubt they done what they wanted to her whilst she had blacked out. She began checking herself, suddenly remembering the green of her legs she tore at the white sheet they'd covered her with. Seeing them again the pain vanished for a few minutes as she dug her bastardised finger nails into her skin, somebody kept cutting them off, and with some determination she still managed to remove some of the green skin. The satisfaction of the gentle drip of blood down her legs into a small puddle on the floor.
Charlie turned to her husband, her face sunken and tears welling up. Every time she swore she wouldn't cry but it was hard not to as she watched her daughter battle with herself until she had to be sedated. It had been 3 years and each time they visited it was worse; for the past 6 months they hadn't even managed to be noticed by her as the deranged fantasy took her to a place of fear and terror. The last time she'd spoken to Sam she had asked to die but there was no chance of that in a facility so well staffed, so aware of the dangerous nature of their patients and as much as she hated to think about it if she was in Sam's place would she too desire the freedom of death?
She'd never wanted to put her daughter away, for months they had kept Sam at home; keeping everything that could be even have the slight possibility of causing harm away from her, watching her next to constantly and sitting with her whilst the episodes took away what little control Sam had of her actions. But that was nothing in comparison to how bad she'd got since they had to check her in and both parents knew they could never cope with this at home, how can you when it becomes a rarity for her to even be lucid? But it was still hard to relinquish responsibility and whilst physically she was next to pristine it was undeniable that her mental state had reached a state which was unbearable to watch, and often left her parents wondering what it was like being inside it.
Watching her daughter being sedated brought back memories of when she could actually help Sam; when she was young and hurt herself in moments of hyperactivity which both parents had put down to a youthful joy for life, her mother would often hold her until she fell asleep peacefully in her arms. Yet sedation wasn't quite the same; the look of peacefulness, the sprawling limbs and sudden slump were still there but Charlie felt this hideous guilt every time, as Sam faded away nobody was there to hold her and kiss her forehead.
With both her hands dripping with her own blood Sam looked up, raising her hands above her head Sam looked straight ahead noticing for the first time a bright white light with three shadows, ignoring the normal white shadow she looked straight upon her mother and ran to the window, arms still risen. Charlie saw her daughter make a sudden movement towards her and was overjoyed, maybe she recognises me. Sam was torn apart with anger the woman who gave her away and the desperate hope that she'd come to take her back. Just as she reached the window Sam saw them, and she grabbed her hair and screamed with fear.