Unexpected allies

Chapter 2: Welcoming captivity

Sam was used to rough mornings. However that one was on her top list. All her muscles were sore, and she could barely move. The young woman felt something soft beneath her, at least something softer than a sharp asphalt. It was really quiet. Maybe that pipe because of which it sometimes was a headache to fall asleep was finally fixed. Sam couldn't help but smile. Yes, that was appreciated, she would thank whoever did it.

Then Sam slowly opened her lilac eyes. She realized that it wasn't her room. Not at all. The girl jumped into seating position, gasping in realization. The events of the yesterday caught up with her. It was painfully obvious that she was far from her home. The room she was in was not big, yet it wasn't small. Sam was sitting on a double bed positioned in the center of the room. Half of her body was covered by a thin blanket. The walls were covered in dark blue wallpapers, and one window was to the left of the bed. There was only one wardrobe, other than that the room was empty.

The young huntress was confused. All she could remember was that some guy cast off the ghosts who almost killed her. Maybe she was at that guy's house. But from what Sam could remember, he didn't sound exactly welcoming. At least he had a decency to give her a bed, that was a relief to a certain degree. Then Sam looked down and saw that some of her wounds had healed. In some places her skin was dry and she couldn't feel them. Something akin to getting a frostbite, when your nerves stop working as well. But that spots were small, for the rare exceptions, she should have been fine.

Suddenly Sam heard a sip. Her head darted towards the spot in the corner, the only thing she missed while observing. Wait, she didn't miss it. Nothing had been there. Well, now there was. A young man was sitting on a chair crosslegged, with a small plate and a cup in his hands. Sam did find him quite handsome at first, although the appearance was indeed unusual. His hair was messy and astonishingly white, so vibrant that it seemed to glow. Not to mention the eyes of a color of pure, unrefined ectoplasm. They held a look of certain amusement. The man was wearing dark shirt and blue jeans. He smirked once the huntress looked at him.

"I was starting to wonder if I'd have to bury you," the man commented, making another sip.

His voice was just as youthful as before Sam blacked out. The appearance confirmed her theory of the age. It was soft, but at the same time dry and ignorant tone partially ruined that softness.

"Well, I'm still alive, at least," Sam rubbed her forehead. "What happened?"

"You were reduced to a status of a bloody pulp, I came in and saved your pretty butt."

Sam wasn't sure how to take it. Everything depended on what exactly the stark haired man implied. She seemed to be too well brought up to inquire the details. A momentary silence settled, as the two watched each other.

"Thank you...I guess..."

The man let out a dry laughter, putting the cup on the nearest shelf. Sam was already familiar with it, but it didn't make her feel any better. A feeling of dread rose in her stomach and up her throat. There was simply something offsetting about him, which made her insides shiver.

"You were hit on the head probably too hard," the man rose to his feet. "Do you remember anything at all?"

"Yes...you were there," Sam rubbed her forehead again. "The ghosts...let you take me?"

"Alright, this part of that brains of yours has lived," the man crossed his hands, but not before tossing her some clothes. "Dress up. And better wash yourself, you stink."