"Oh! Trip wire, trip wire!"
The warning came too slow, as Sam's foot caught, coming to a halt as he was thrown to the ground. Halfway down, a hacky-sack hit the side of his face. His chin slammed against a rock, and he let out a yell, head spinning, vision darkening around the edges.
Everything was muddled, the greens and browns of the surrounding area melting together in a water-colored painting. Even sounds were slightly muted, and it took him a second to realize someone was calling his name.
"Sam, sam!" Colby shouted, crouching next to his friend. Sam groaned uselessly, his frown deepening. Blood dripped from his chin, which had been cut from the fall. "Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, bouncing nervously, his eyes flickering to the other youtubers they were collaborating with. They stared back with frightened, wild eyes, urging him to get up and run.
Sam shook his head. "I'm fine." He choked out, throat scratchy and hoarse, pushing himself off the ground. Colby grabbed his arm, helping him up.
"C'mon, man, we gotta go." He urged, letting Sam lean against him as he struggled to get his footing. Sam put his foot down, letting out a hiss, bringing it back off the ground. It was sprained, great. Colby's eyes softened. "You gotta stay up, Sam, we gotta go."
As he stopped speaking, a loud, blood-curdling scream echoed out from behind them. Sam's head whipped to face behind them, as did Colby's, and saw nothing. All they heard was tortured calls for help. When they turned back, the two brothers were sprinting away. Colby swore, immediately letting go of Sam to pick up the camera he'd set on the ground.
"Hey-" Sam started, but was cut off by the incredible pain coming from his ankle. He yelped, clenched his eyes shut as he put as much weight as possible on it, to make him used to it. It didn't work.
"We gotta go, Sam!" Colby repeated quicker. He patted Sam on the arm twice, pulling once, as if to remind him they had to fucking get out of there. He looked Sam in the eyes, panicked cloudy blues meeting, before taking off.
Sam's heart, which had already been beating a considerable amount, was now going at light speed. He was breathing quick, pain making his breaths labored. He rushed forward, feeling tears well into his eyes at the incredible torturous feeling. He followed Colby, who he could only just see in the distance.
He ran for what seemed like hours. Colby had faded from sight. Sam pushed himself harder, praying to God that he'd see that familiar shape in the distance, but the only thing he achieved was another fall.
His head smacked into the pine needles, and he didn't have the strength to move again. His ankle ached, his chin stung, and his limbs felt like limp jello. He breathed in, deep inhales and exhales, trying to settle his heart rate and rest his legs so he could get up and run again. Those screams of bloody murder still rang throughout the forest, and Sam deeply regretted ever coming to that stupid asylum.
He tried to get up, setting his injured leg on the ground, before promptly falling back over. It hurt worse than before. With dizzy eyes he looked at it, a shocked noise coming out of his mouth at the sight. His ankle was swollen, some bits leaking little rivulets of watery blood. No no, not water, sweat.
Sam clenched his teeth, taking in a deep inhale. He shook his head once more, pulling himself over to a tree trunk. He leaned against it, finding it easier to breath like that. He closed his eyes, fingernails digging into the soft soil beside him.
This wasn't happening. No, it wasn't. He was back at home, editing some video. He just fell asleep. He wasn't alone in the middle of a jungle with someone getting fucking murdered in an abandoned asylum only like a thousand feet away.
The idea that he was alone struck up a feeling deep in his chest. His eyes snapped open, registering the complete darkness around him, only disturbed by the flashlight hooked to his belt. Anything could've been out there.
"COLBY!" Sam shouted, gathering up all the air in his lungs to scream for his best friend. His blue eyes flickered about, terror making it's way into his system. His brain started making him see faces in the blackness. "COLBY!? HELP!" He yowled.
Sam shifted on the needle-strewn, chest rising and falling quickly, too quickly. Was this shock? It probably was. Oh god. Colby wasn't coming back. None of them were. He was alone, stuck outside in the middle of nowhere. He was going to die, an actual documented case of someone dying around the asylum. A noise sounded somewhere to his left, like thirty feet away, snapping him out of his thoughts. He dug his nails harder into the dirt, stiffening.
Stupidly, Sam opened his mouth. "Colby?" He called, not realizing that the screams from the asylum had stopped. "Colby, are you there? It's Sam, I'm right here!" Another crunching noise, closer, and Sam started to become hopeful. He heard what he thought was a sigh of relief, and turned his head. "Colby, thank god-"
Oh lord. That was not Colby. Not remotely Colby. Sam's eyes widened in horror, mouth agape. The man standing there was tall, too tall, with blood coating him toes to shoulders. His lifeless eyes were boring into Sam's skull, a smile of amusement settled on his sunken in and pale face. Sam shook his head, jumping off the ground with new found strength, and booking it in the direction of the car.
He didn't even make it five feet before a wire was wrapped around his bad ankle. It was then tightened, and Sam let loose a scream of terror and, well, bloody murder. "HELP! COLBY! COLBY! ANYONE, OH GOD, PLEASE, HELP ME!" His throat was dry and hoarse, and it was hard to continue screeching. The man had started to drag him back in the direction of the asylum. Sam kicked and shrieked, grabbing at anything that could possibly help him escape. It was all futile, and he was getting desperate. He scratched at the dirt, leaving a trail of scratch marks along the path.
He was going to die. He was going to die. It was inevitable, he knew it. They were so closed to the asylum, he knew they'd be there in under minutes. He let out a few more cries for help, for Colby, before his mouth decided to cramp up and steal his voice away. All he could manage then was a few pitiful croaks and wheezes.
The man let out a small laugh at that. Then, he pulled harder at the wire, and it cut into the inflamed flesh of Sam's ankle. His ability to scream his heart out came back for that, one last noise before he slumped down against the ground, weeping loudly as he was pulled along. Adrenaline was not on his side.
It reminded him of when Sam Pepper 'pranked' him. But worse, so much worse. This was real, he knew it. It couldn't not be. Sam Pepper went to great lengths to complete his pranks, but he would never physically harm him, or anyone. Also, he definitely could not dirty his reputation anymore unless he wanted to be banned from youtube, maybe even arrested.
Sam let out a sob, curling on his side like a cat refusing to walk. He closed his eyes, trying to act like he wasn't being dragged to his death by a madman covered in someone else's blood. He was so scared, so, so scared.
"P-please let me go." Sam croaked, his voice shaking audibly, terror lacing his words.
A satisfied grunt sounded from his captor, but he did not respond verbally. This only made Sam more convinced of his fate, and he cried harder. Stopped fighting completely.
Soon, Sam recognized the rocky dirt trail you had to cross to get into the asylum. His eyes opened halfway, and yes, they were right next to it. He opened his mouth to take one more breath of fresh air before they were thrown into the musty building, and the man broke into a run.
Sam cried out softly, the wire shifted painfully around his swollen ankle. The blood was clumped around the thin strand of metal, and was now being disturbed, new blood flowing down and soaking his sock. His body flopped against the gravel, and then the messy, broken floor of the asylum. The man slowed.
Sam tried to dodge anything significant on the ground, but was struck in the face a few times by a couple chairs and a desk. His tears has generally subsided, and now he was filled with an incredible dread, his body limp and tired and unable to do anything important.
Poor Colby. Sam thought, eyes devoid of most emotion as he was pulled down corridors. He'll have to grieve. And the rest of the guys. He frowned, feeling sadness start to well up inside his chest again, but he pushed it down. He was accepting his death. Colby'll blame himself. It's not his fault, though.
It wasn't his fault.
The man stopped, and Sam lifted his head weakly. Renewed fear struck him in the heart, tearing at his stomach, twisting it into knots. His eyes were met with the sight of a syringe filled with a clear tan liquid before the man grabbed him by the actual face and dug it into the ground.
Sam started fighting again. He grunted as he pushed against his captor's incredible strength, not making any progress before he felt the sharp prick of the needle entering his neck. Panic took hold, and he thrashed more violently, managing to throw off the man's hand. Adrenaline flew through his veins, and he bent forward, ripping the man's hand that was holding the wire forward with as much force as possible, biting into the flesh.
The man yelped and let the wire go. Sam leapt into the air, booking it down the corridor. His ankle hurt like hell, but he could get out! He wasn't going to die! He'd see Colby and the others again, they wouldn't be sad.
He raced down hallway after hallway, but it all seemed to be the same exact thing. Same graffiti, same creepy noises, same debris littering the ground. Soon, it all started melting together. Like.. like a water color painting.
Sam fell forward, his face slapping agains the concrete loudly. His muscles and joints were stiff, paralyzed. He couldn't move, at all. Not even his jaw. Everything was blurred together, and started melting, forming all sorts of different shapes and things. He saw colors that he didn't even know existed. Pupils blown out of proportion, Sam lied there, motionless, until the man sauntered toward him. The pretty colorful images disappeared, replaced with darkness. He angled his eyes toward the pain he felt down in his ankle, momentarily having forgotten he had sprained it.
Oh god. He'd forgotten where he was.
What was he on?
The thoughts drifted away like leaves in the breeze, and he focused on the thin silhouette of the man. He was angry, why? The man was taking away his colors, his pretty shapes! His slack face managed to show some form of frustration.
His captor grabbed the shiny silver wire, and once more began pulling him. Mm, pulling. The colors resumed their show, engulfing the dark area around him. He didn't even notice his eyes closed, relishing in the shapes' beauty.
He was out in seconds.