Ringing in his ears, Sam’s knees hit the carpeted floor. He groans in discomfort—it feels as if a needle is being driven through his temples. Flashing vivid images play in the back of his eyelids. Feeling as if the visions were burning his retinas.

The only way to describe Sam’s vision was intense

He curled in on himself like a wounded animal—hands shaking—wanting to claw out the invisible needles piercing his mind. The guns he’d been fixing up for the next trip were long forgotten and left askew on the motel bed.

“G-guh— {{user}}—…” He manages to grind out a plea for help, support—something. You rush over, frantic, unsure of what to do.

“Jesus…” He shudders as he screws his shut eyes infinitely tighter, face scrunched in pain. One of his hands flies to your forearm, gripping it like his life depended on it.