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"Sam…"
Sam whirls around, searching Deena's room for the source of the breathy, rasping voice, but there's no one there.
So she's hearing things. Considering what they went through, maybe she shouldn't worry too much.
"Sam…"
She wouldn't, it weren't fucking terrifying. Sam decides to go find Deena, she doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Suddenly she finds herself standing at Deena's bedroom door, holding what she recognises as one of Deena's drumsticks. The top has broken off, leaving a sharp point. Did she do that? How did she get over here? Why can't she remember?
"Dee—" Sam tries to call for help and her mouth snaps shut. She can't open it again, like a vice was put on her jaw. Terror rushes through her as her legs walk her down the hall. She feels like she's dreaming, vaguely she recalls the same sensation of night terrors when she was very little. There are whispers in the back of her head. She can't identify the words they're saying, but as she listens Sam feels a rage build up inside her chest. It's not her anger.
When she reaches the kitchen, the whispers multiply and grow in volume.
Deena is standing there, talking on the phone. Sam walks up to her and stops, waiting for her to turn. She does, and even though Deena's looking at her like she hung the moon, Sam wishes she wasn't there at all. Something bad is about to happen.
The hand with the drumstick lifts from her side, its trajectory clear once Sam's eyes fix on the target– Deena's heart.
No. Sam won't let that happen. She holds the weapon rigidly in place by her side, amazed to find she has the power to stop this. Only she doesn't. She can hold it down but as hard as she tries to hold it back the stake keeps moving, now towards Deena's abdomen. Sam fights it all the way but the tip makes contact, first an innocent poke and then it keeps going. It resists for a moment, then gives like a skewer into meat, plunging into Deena's soft flesh. It tears through her shirt and catches the fabric, dragging it into the wound. Sam wonders how far it has to go when it finally, finally stops over an inch in. No more, Sam pleads. They can fix this. They can go to the hospital and the doctors will remove it and stop the bleeding and sew Deena up as good as new. For the first time, Sam's glad she's holding the weapon. She's holding it steady.
Deena's face is still calm, the fondness and love remains like nothing has changed and Sam relaxes. She’s dreaming, there is no way this can be real. Deena was stabbed and she obviously doesn't feel it so it must be a dream. A nightmare. She fell asleep on Deena's bed and she's having the worst nightmare of her life.
If she could just move. If she could just snap out of this and wake up—
Deena exhales. Her lip trembles. Her eyes slowly drop to her stomach and Sam's hand and the drumstick embedded in her body. Sam is screaming in her own head as her hand pulls it back out, trying desperately to stop the action and only succeeding in slowing it. Her fear is realised as the wood brings with it a blossom of crimson on Deena's shirt, growing and spreading from its roots.
Deena's face changes. Sam has never seen this pain, this shock or this fear ever before. Never has Deena ever looked at her like that.
This is really happening.
Without a word, Deena crumples and falls at Sam's feet.
Fear overtakes Sam. Deena could bleed out. She has to do something and she can't move- but she has to. Sam fights her feet rooted to the floor with every ounce of strength she has. She can't bend her neck to look down, some force won't let her, but she knows that Deena isn't moving. The kitchen is silent.
Sam's brain explodes with pain as she manages to inch one foot forward and bend her knee slightly. Whatever is in her head growls and it's terrifying but she ignores it. Deena. She just has to get to Deena. It seems impossible until suddenly she drops to her knees on the floor. Unfortunately, it wasn't her effort that got her there. Whatever's inside her has her spinning around and grabbing Deena, sickeningly sinking Sam's fingers into the wound as it tosses her onto her back.
Deena’s body falls limp, skin grey, eyes closed. Sam wants to check her pulse and try and stop the bleeding, or do anything except just watch her drain away. Is she even breathing?
Sam's body doesn't move at all. The thing inside her is waiting, keeping her eyes trained on Deena's face, then her chest, muttering indecipherable words. Looking for signs of life, Sam realises with dread. A few seconds wear on. Nothing.
Panic cuts through the din of her mind.
"No!" she yells out.
That was her voice. She can fight this, really. It hurts, her brain burns, but Sam pulls up one strained and shaking hand to reach for Deena. She can't move her fingers so she slaps Deena's arm, then she pounds the heel of her hand against her chest. It's not enough. Sam doesn't have the control to put any real force into slapping Deena awake. All she can do is watch as her girlfriend remains still and colourless. The sight couldn't be more wrong, after everything they went through, after what they sacrificed to try and end this. She won't lose Deena like they lost Kate and Simon. She has to live.
"Dee—" Sam's throat closes momentarily. "Deena!"
As if her screech reminded it of its mission, that thing inside Sam tugs her arm back. It takes over everything.
Her teeth crack together and fuse. Her lips close tight. Her body slackens and drops back against the wall. She's stuck and now Deena is out of reach, lifeless.
She won't let it end like this. Deena brought her back to life and she'll get Deena back too, even if it's the very last thing she ever does.
She tries again, one more shot before she runs out of time because this parasite is taking each of her limbs for itself and shutting off the part of her brain that's still Sam. She begs forgiveness and charges herself, sending all her energy to her right leg. The rest of her body she can't feel anymore but she can see her hands clawing at the floor, her left foot scrabbling for grip on the linoleum and there's a horrible, carnal growl coming from Sam’s mouth. This thing is raring to launch her body off the floor and with a flood of relief Sam sees why.
Deena is breathing. It's shallow, her chest is barely moving, but she's alive.
In a blink, Sam sees red. Like a visor has been dropped over her eyes, she sees the scene in front of her washed in blood.
This is it. Her last chance before she goes. Sam pleads with Deena as if she could hear her thoughts— fight me. Knock me down, knock me out. Survive. She adds one last I love you before she puts all her might into kicking Deena hard in the side. It shoves her body over, turned away from Sam.
Right away, Deena stirs, wheezing and gasping, falling onto her back and releasing a strangled cry at the pain. She rolls her head around to find Sam, eyes barely open.
"Sam," she sobs weakly, voice cracking. "Sam..."
All Sam wants is to comfort her, to pick her up and hold her, patch her up and make all the pain go away. She would trade anything just to be able to wipe away Deena’s tears and say I’m sorry. But she can't do any of that. Her body is no longer hers.
She's helpless as she scrambles over Deena and straddles her hips, holding her down. Deena is still coming to, gazing glassily at her girlfriend as her hands grab around her throat. Her mouth forms the shapes of Sam’s name, but Sam can't hear her anymore. All she can hear are furious whispers of words she still doesn't recognise but she knows express an intent to kill.
Her sight is the last thing to go. She sees Deena's fear and her hesitance to hurt her even as Sam's grip cuts off her air supply— it's agony trying to get her hands to release and now it has no effect. Sam sees when the adrenaline kicks in and Deena’s expression changes to the brave determination she’s all too familiar with.
Deena catches her wrists and wrenches those hands away from her neck. Sam celebrates as Deena gets the upper hand, turning them and forcing Sam's body onto its back with the strength of a person that will fight until the very end.
Now though, it's like it's happening in a film. The frame of Sam’s vision grows smaller with every second. She's fading. Darkness consumes her remaining consciousness and drags it far away. She isn't sure where she's going. This could be death, the death of what makes her who she is. It's not like drowning, but maybe she was distracted by the pain and the drugs the last time. Wherever she's going now, Sam is at once sure that she's not coming back.
The last thing Sam sees before she loses the last of her senses is Deena's eyes— wide and alert. Hell-bent on putting a stop to this. Her final thought is the hope that Deena will end it by any means necessary, even destroy her body and take this thing with it to save her own life. She hopes that Deena is willing.
"Sam!"
Sam knew nothing except this voice, different from the others, piercing the darkness and pulling her back to the light.
"It's me! Please!"
All at once, Sam sees Deena. She sees and feels the memory of every time she loved her, from when they first became friends right up until the last time she saw her.
Every beautiful moment comes to her in an instant. When it ends she sees Deena's face once more, and it's a jarring difference. Desperate and afraid. Sam's hands around her throat.
This time, it doesn't hurt when she lets go.
Then the voices come screaming back and she panics. She can't stop them. Deena takes hold of her head. Sam isn't sure if it's the thing inside her or the vague thump she hears next is what does it but once again she falls back into the darkness.
Someone calls out of the blackness. It takes a few calls for her to realise it's her name they're saying. She can't tell where it's coming from this time. It's not harsh or wrathful either, but she can't let it in. She won't. She won't go through it again. She would rather die for good than hurt anyone else.
Sam feels a hard bumpy surface beneath her. She really feels it— the ridges digging into her bruised skin. She tries her hand and touches the rock, moving along it. And there's something warm on her other shoulder, and so careful, rubbing her arm and easing her to sit up. Sam does, head spinning and ears ringing as she pushes herself upright. She takes in the environment, it's dark, damp and unfamiliar. Sam sits motionless for a moment, just feeling her mind settled in her own body. Hoping it stays that way.
Her head pounds, but it's her pain. And it's not just inside, there's throbbing across her scalp, a sting above her ear. She can smell the stale air of this place. She can hear her own heartbeat. The voices are gone, but she doesn't trust their absence. She waits for them, for the tug on her limbs. Seconds pass. Nothing happens. Now there's only the hands on her face, sweeping away her hair and turning her head to meet—
Deena.
Deena, alive and smiling like everything is okay. But Sam remembers and it doesn't seem right. Deena can't be okay. This can't be real, she's dead and so is Deena and this disgusting pit they're in is hell—
Then Deena kisses her. It's so familiar, it's instinct— Sam kisses her back. She's back in her body like a snap of elastic and melting into the comfort of Deena's touch. No, it has to be real. The afterlife couldn't be as horrific as it is gracious, to let her have this, let her feel this good. Deena brought her back again, like she said she would.
Sam thought she would never see Deena ever again and here they are, together, alive. Just about.
She looks into Deena's eyes and they're too bright but they're wide open. She strokes her thumbs across the softness of Deena's cheeks and it's interrupted by streaks of blood, whose she doesn't know, but her skin appears intact. The curls Sam loves so much tickle the back of her hands because Deena is shaking and the hot breaths on her face come far too fast, but it's proof that Deena is alive. Under Sam's fingers is the hard, rapid pulse in her neck.
"Are you okay?" Deena asks, peering into Sam's eyes.
Sam has no answer— none would suffice. It doesn't matter anyway, she only cares about one thing.
"Are you?"