Yellow Eyes Stole My Soul Part 3
Sam took the letter opener out of his pocket and held it in his hand. He waited.
Periodically he heard footsteps outside. Somone whispered his name. He figured it was lunch time when there was a knock on the door. “Sam,” Jason called out. “You feeling better, wanna come join us?”
“Yeah, Sammy. Come join us.” The yellow-eyed man’s voices slithered up Sam’s spine.
“No, I’m not hungry,” Sam answered.
“Are you sure, Sammy? I’m awfully hungry,” The yellow-eyed man said.
“Are you sure, Sam?” Jason said.
“I’m sure.” Sam yelled.
“Alright, I’ll be back to check on you after dinner, Sam.” Jason said.
“We’ll be back, Sammy. This door won’t stay closed forever.” The handle rattled for a moment and then stopped. Sam heard footsteps fading away and let his body relax. He’d been tense the whole time, every muscle tight with anxiety.
Sam stayed on the bed for the rest of the day, whispers coming from outside. He wrapped himself up in his blanket and held his pillow in his lap as a rather feeble layer of protection. The sun set and the light sky fading to an ominous black.
Any sense of safety Sam had left faded with the sun. Jason showed up again. This time Sam didn’t answer any of his questions. The yellow-eyed man laughed and Sam couldn’t speak.
“Sam, are you okay? What’s wrong? Why did you block the door?” Jason’s yelling was getting louder. His face appeared at the window. The yellow-eyed man was right behind him, and those yellow eyes bore down on Sam in an almost physical way. He could feel them on his skin.
“Go away! You can’t have me!” Sam screamed at both Jason and the yellow-eyed man. He slid from the bed and climbed under it. The solid mattress above him felt safe and hid him from view. “My brother’s coming. He’s gonna kill you!” Sam shouted. He instantly regretted it. Now they knew Dean was coming, what if they got to him before he got to Sam?
“Sam, I’m going to go call your brother. Stay calm. No one is after you.” Jason tried to quiet Sam with words, but Sam could see the lies dripping from them. He gripped the letter opener tighter and pointed the tip outward. He wished it was sharper, but at least it was something.
Sam kept his eyes on the cabin door. It shook and rattled, making the bed in front of it rock too. Banging on the walls and the windows made them shake, and the yellow-eyed man laughed and laughed and laughed. “We’re coming for you, Sammy.”
Eventually the door opened a crack; shifted the bed slowly across the floor. Sam watched it open wider and wider, until it was big enough for a person to squeeze through. It took a while, though Sam wasn’t sure how long. Jason forced his way in, the latch of the door ripping his shirt. Sam pressed himself further back against the wall and wished the bed could hide him even more.
A lot of voices were outside the now open door. Jason walked slowly forward, his hands out to his sides like he came in peace. Sam knew the truth, though. The yellow-eyed man clearly stood next to Jason, smiling like this was the best joke in the world. “Sam, I’m not here to hurt you. You’ve got to talk to me. We couldn’t reach your brother, but his boss said he was on his way here.” Jason kept moving forward, inching his way towards Sam. The closer he got, the less of him Sam could with the mattress above in the way.
When it got to the point where Sam couldn’t see above Jason’s knees he spoke. “Don’t come any closer.” Jason didn’t listen. He took another step.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Sam.” Jason’s voice came from above.
“I mean it, go away. I won’t let you take my soul!” Sam heart beat hard in his chest. He felt like it was trying to get him to do something, like if it beat hard enough Sam would get the hint and start running.
The yellow-eyed man’s face popped into view and Sam hit his head on the wall. He barely felt it. The eyes were so bright that Sam felt like they shone like a spotlight on him. “No!” Sam shot out from under the bed and scrambled against the floor. He lashed out at those eyes with the hand that held the letter opened. He felt it hit something, but glance off. He managed to get to his feet, makeshift dagger at the ready. The yellow-eyed man was still smiling.
“Sam, what the hell?” Jason demanded.
“That’s right, Sammy. We’ve got you now.” Yellow-eyes danced with a mirth that seemed entirely out of place.
“No, you don’t get me!” Sam stabbed him in the stomach. “You don’t get to get me.” With Jason out of the way on the floor, hands clutching his stomach trying to catch the blood, Sam turned to the yellow-eyed man. He lunged, but before he could even get his feet off the floor he felt arms around his middle. He twisted, trying to get free. More hands grabbed his arms and someone was shouting at him and someone else pried the letter opener from his hands. “No! No, no, no! He’ll kill me! No, let me go!” Sam cried and begged but the hands didn’t let go. The wrestled him down to the bed and then there was rope and knots and he couldn’t move and yellow eyes were staring at him. They were all he could see.
*~*~*
Dean sat in the office, waiting for the doctor to come in. His eyes studied the diplomas on the walls, and the two pictures on the desk. One had two children, a girl and a boy with sand all over them, standing proudly in front of a lopsided sand castle. The other was clearly posed, from one of those portrait studios you find at the mall. The same two kids were there, along with a middle aged woman with friendly eyes, and a balding man. Dean rubbed his palms on his jeans; his hands were shaking a little.
The door opened and the balding man from the picture enter the room. He was wearing a white coat, and smiled as the door closed quietly behind him. “You must be Dean,” He said. “I’m Dr. Schendel.” He held out his hand and Dean shook it, but didn’t get up from the chair or smile. He didn’t have it in him right now.
“How’s Sam?” Dean asked. He hadn’t been able to see or talk to Sam for two days while the doctors did their thing. It almost killed him to leave Sam here, doped to the gills because he kept trying to fight the restraints they had him in. Dean had begged them to just take the restraints off, but they said stabbing the camp counselor meant Sam was dangerous.
“Sam is being fed lunch right now, so he’s fine.” The doctor went around the desk and sat down, folding his hands in front of him. “I need to talk to you about his future, though.”
Dean nodded. Sam was going to need help. Dean was smart enough to figure that out on his own. It was why he’d brought Sam here.
“I believe Sam is suffering from Schizofreniform disorder.”
Dean’s head jerked in reaction. Schizo, his brother was schizo.
“The fast onset of his symptoms, the visual and auditory hallucinations. His delusion that there is a man after his soul. Possibly asociality and loss of the ability to feel joy as well, that all leads to this disease. Fifteen is unusually young for this to develop, but it’s not unheard of.”
The doctor paused to let that sink in. Dean shook his head. Sam always had been special. Always learning things and doing things before everyone else.
“I’d like to put him on Haloperidol, which is an antipsychotic. I think it would be best if Sam stayed here while we determine how effective that is for him, or if we need to change it. Once he stabilizes and his symptoms are manageable he can go home and we can treat him as an outpatient.” The doctor’s eyes were focused on Dean, judging how he was taking the news. “If his symptoms persist for more than six months I’ll have to change the diagnosis to schizophrenia.”
“How long will that take? How long before he can come home?” Dean asked.
“At least three weeks, maybe even up to two months. It depends on how Sam responds to the medication.” The doctor pulled open a draw and took out some pamphlets. He handed them to Dean. “These are for you. They have information about the things that are going to happen in the next few months, along with the numbers and websites of a couple support groups in the area.”
Dean took the papers. “But I’m not the one who’s sick.”
“No, but it’s incredibly hard to deal with someone with this disease. It will help you to talk to other people about what you and Sam are going through. Sam will be going to therapy everyday while he is here and should continue to see a therapist once he eventually leaves.”
Dean smoothed the pamphlets flat against his leg. The paper felt glossy under his fingers. “I’ll make sure he gets whatever he needs.”
“Will you?” The doctor asked. “Because Sam is going to need a lot of support from you. Now, and in the future. Are you sure you can handle it?” Dr. Schendel’s face was impassive, just stating facts and asking a question.
Dean felt anger bubble up in his gut. Anger at the doctor, anger at the hospital, anger the situation. Of course, he would take care of his baby brother. There was no other option that he could live with. He’d been looking after Sam since the day he was born; he wasn’t going to stop now. It was a combination of love and responsibility that fell familiar and heavy on his shoulders.
“I can handle it.”
*~*~*
They let Dean visit Sam after his meeting with the doctor. Dean listened to Sam as he explained why he couldn’t stay here. “They have yellow eyes, Dean. They all have yellow eyes.”
Dean brushed the hair off of Sam’s forehead. “No, Sam. They don’t.”
*~*~*
When Dean left the hospital later he made sure to wipe the tears from his eyes before anyone could see them. He sat in the Impala and let his head rest on the steering wheel. Tears kept falling and he kept wiping them away. His eyes stayed clenched shut, little bursts of yellow popping behind his eyelids, the color of egg yolk.
The End