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He should have considered this, should have thought it through more. Sam figured maybe if he had taken the rat thing on his own, maybe if it was just himself who fed it to the maw in the wall, that it wouldn’t be so hard on anyone else. He didn’t want the others to get hurt, didn’t want them to have to watch this either, especially Hellen who tried all she could to grow closer to the little beast.
But the longer he stood here in front of this miserable wall, the longer he had to rethink what he wanted to do, how he wanted to treat this…this child. This was a living, breathing, child he had in his hands, and he was surely ready to feed it to the wall without a second thought. But now he was having second thoughts, and now he didn’t want to feed it to the wall. It looked up to him with its black beady eyes, begging for him to take it home in soft coos mixed with a rat’s squeal.
He couldn’t do this. He’ll just turn back and leave. Go home and pretend this wasn’t happening, find another way.
But he couldn’t just go home either. It simply could not be that easy could it? The wall demanded a sacrifice, demanded the taste of flesh, and Sam had nothing to give but himself. So he put on a brave face, closed his eyes tight, and slid his arm into that…that thing’s mouth. He felt every agonizing moment of it, the way it slid its tongue against his arm, the way it tested the waters by biting gently first, before it finally bit down with a nasty crunch and chewed sharply through bone, and flesh, and meat. He remembered screaming, remembered yelling so loud his voice went raw, everything after that was black and blurred.
When he awoke, his arm was gone, blood quickly trickling out of the gaping wound, and beside him the rat child slept. Sitting up was easier said than done. He could feel his entire body trying everything it could to give out, to keep him there on that floor. It wasn’t safe, he needed to go home, before the others decided to come looking for him. Carefully, oh so carefully, he scooped the child up with his good arm, and forced himself to fully stand.
He could think about the arm later, he needed to leave now.
Thankfully despite this single room, the rats of the first floor had a mind not to mess with Sam. Something about him being their leader, and wanting to follow and protect him in any way they could. A few scrambled beside his legs as he made his way to the stairs. He of course thanked them, not wanting to be rude even with their current situations, and carefully pulled himself up each agonizing step.
He tried to keep quiet when he opened his apartment door. It was still late, wasn’t it? Sam hadn’t really considered how long he was out on the floor back there. It couldn’t have been that long, he thinks, placing the rat child he’s decided to name Earth upon the floor. It didn’t seem to want to leave, opting to follow after Sam as he made his way to his room as quietly as he possibly could. Hellen slept? Right? Or maybe she was in the bathroom? The apartment was so dark he couldn’t really tell, didn’t really care either.
Bathroom door was shut. She was in the bathroom, so bedroom it was.
Thankfully Sam at least had it in his head to keep a med-kit there, so cleaning his arm wouldn’t be too difficult. Or, well, he thought it wouldn’t be too difficult. The longer he looked at it, the more his stomach turned at the idea of even touching it. Blood seeped deep into his sweater, soaking nearly the entire left side of it. How much blood had he lost anyway? Suddenly feeling strangely lightheaded, Sam decided it was best to lean up against his bed and try to catch his breath.
His head swam, panic about the entire situation finally setting in. He really let that thing eat his arm, hadn’t he? Let it bite his arm right off with a sickly wet crunch, and why? All for a disk he didn’t want and a rat he wasn’t sure what to do with? Blood rang in his ears, his chest hurt so bad, why was it so hard to breathe? What was he going to do? How was he going to keep anyone safe now? An arm down, probably infected, why hadn’t he looked for any other way?
Sam felt as if he was going to be sick.
All this overthinking and he hadn’t even heard a certain cricket slip into his room with one rat baby following close on his heels. Morton. Sam offered to let Morton stay in his home a few days ago with promise to find him bits and bobs on his outings that he may have liked, and in turn, Morton had grown quite appreciative to Sam. It almost felt as if he considered Sam to be his first ever friend, though Sam would never ask him about this, feeling the conversation would be a bit too personal for his small buggy acquaintance.
He felt those small insect-like hands on his forehead, resting on his shoulder, examining his arm. He heard Morton chirp once, maybe twice, and move away from him. He almost wanted to reach out, until he felt Morton come back and properly sit in front of his fragile form against the bed. The child, Earth, curled up warm in his lap. Sam had no energy to shoo it off, or ask Morton to stop with whatever he was doing.
A med-kit clicks, and next thing Sam knew, he was being lifted into the bed. Had he…did he black out again? No, he couldn’t have, could he? He frowns, makes some sort of uncomfortable noise, and does his best to push whoever is even lifting him off, but they don’t let go.
“Careful, his arm is…ehhh…it is purulent.” Morton. Morton was still here. It couldn’t be Morton who lifted him, Morton only came up to his hip.
“I am aware.” Hellen? Hellen was lifting him. Hellen knew now that his arm was missing. Great, awesome. He’d have to think about how to explain himself in the morning then. “You did this?”
“I do not like to see Sam hurt. It is ehhh...disconcerting, yes.” He hears Morton fidgeting with something, but Sam can’t bring himself to open his eyes. It sounded like a wrapper, the bandages maybe? “He is my…my friend. I would not like to see him…”
“Dead?” Hellen puts bluntly, he can hear Morton chirp in response. Maybe his way of saying yes without saying it. There's a moment of quiet while Hellen adjusts Sam’s pillows and pulls his blanket over him as if he were a child. This was embarrassing, Sam thinks briefly, but maybe it was okay to have people there?
“He needs his rest. Do you have any other reason to be here?” She asks, probably still speaking with Morton. Sam can feel Earth snuggle up beside him, maybe that was its own way of comfort.
“I am disquieted.”
“Hmm?”
“Unquiet, apprehensive, ehhh…anxious. Yes. I apologize.” Another small chirp, “I will leave if you would like me to.” A moment of silence again, he can hear Hellen moving, kneeling over? He’d almost forgotten how large she is compared to the poor cricket.
“As long as you think you can keep quiet, you can stay here. Tell me if he gets any worse, do you understand?”
“Yes.” And Hellen leaves, Sam thinks. It sounds like she is leaving. He doesn’t make any effort to say thank you, or to move and show he's okay. He’s so tired, he can feel his body getting heavier, his mind fogging further, and Sam’s more than happy to accept the sweet welcoming embrace of sleep.
He can deal with the whole arm loss thing in the morning.