Samael and the Human

I awake to the feeling of weightlessness and dullness. My eyes fight back as I try to open them. My right eye opens, while the left remains unresponsive with a set throb.

Black is everywhere. Variations of it lay scattered about the landscape. Above me, a black shadow: a black shadow that is carrying me. This triggers the memories of what actually did happen. The bliss of waking up has vanished and been replaced by pain, lots of pain. There is no time to question it, Sam was beaten and I was too after trying to protect him.

My muscles ache, remembering each strike I took. My entire body feels as though it has been filled with sand and then repeatedly struck by waves. I try to talk but immediately discover my vocal cords have disappeared.

“Ri?” The shadow questions suddenly.

My eye flicks up to the sight of a beaten Sam. Thick cuts lay scattered among his face. Some of his skin appears shadowed, bruising I think. His jaw looks swollen on one side. This causes a noise at the back of my throat, a sort of gurgle. And then I’m coughing and choking, while my entire body fights to stop.

The pain intensifies to a level I didn’t know could be reached. I’ve never even had a real injury, and now I’ve been beaten like a boxing bag.

My insides go through a washing machine of jagged glass. Then there’s the tickle of grass beneath me. Sam has put me down. My dulled vision attempts to follow him as my body shakes through the coughing. He paces and mumbles in a different language.

Another string of coughs hit me and I curl into myself. Something hot and sticky works its way up my throat with each cough until it finally sprays from my mouth. A speckled taste of iron builds up as I cough up more.

“Riley, no… don’t,” Sam warns, closer now.

Sam said don’t. He never says this; he usually speaks without shortening words. I seal my eyes, not wanted to see any more blood. Screened breathing has replaced the coughing. Breathing has become difficult, like it’s new to me. I can hear Sam murmuring in that strange language again, just above me.

I don’t want to think about the pain. I want Sam to sing to me. I want Sam to curl up with me and make all of the pain go away. I don’t want to smell the smoke and sweat that I smell. I don’t want to think about how I could be dying or how carrying me could be killing Sam. I want Sammy to be okay.

Dizziness sets in and I feel myself slipping out of consciousness, helplessly. I can’t do anything to stop this; my body isn’t listening to me. I feel like a stranger in my own skin as we separate. The ground seems to slant beneath me, I cough once.

“Riley, I’m sorry,” he cries, loudly into the sky.

He said “I’m” instead of “I am”. Sam begins to sing in that beautiful language that I don’t know. Through my eyelids I can see light now, and I wonder if this is heaven. A wave of pain swipes me, and then nostalgia for Sam’s smile. Screaming fills my ears and then I allow the black to capture me.