A Revelation, Some Kind of Revolution

Sam was getting better at holding his breakdowns in when he was around other people. Getting better at bottling it in, reining in the desire to burst into tears or scream; it had taken the now-lost memory of his greatest mistake to get him to this point but now that he was there, he was proud of himself.

Of course, that didn't mean he didn't let it wash over him in private. Great, crashing waves of horror and emotion, sending him to the floor with fat tears hitting the floor, the sounds coming from him almost inhuman. It was during moments like this when he was most aware of just how broken his mind was, how no one had really seen the depths of his impairments, how he just knew they would leave if they did.

When he first looked down and couldn't see his hands he assumed it was his tears clouding his eyesight, but no -- they really weren't there. He could feel them, but all he could see was the wooden floorboards of his bedroom. Slowly he realised he couldn't see his arms either, or his feet; he looked up to the window and saw no reflection.

There should have been shock, panic. But he was at the end of an attack and all he felt was numb denial. Slowly he stood and walked out of his house, out into the evening street.

He wanted to speak to The Voice. And in his trance-like state, all he could think of was the first time he'd seen her underground. Still invisible, memorising the route, he headed down to the Shrine in the cave. Once he reached it, Sam sat before the statue and stared at it blankly for a moment. When he finally did speak, it was soft, quiet, almost sounded as if he was speaking to himself.

[say]"I...I assume the...this..."[/say] He said, waving hands he could not see in front of his face. [say]"Is...something to do with you? And...I found out about the memories...I'm not really sure why I'm here. Sometimes...I suppose I feel like you don't judge me, unless I actually do something wrong. I can't...say that for anyone else."[/say]

The pulsing lines of electricity the radiated outwards from the shrine continued to do so as Sam arrived, as he spoke, and as he fell silent again.

Was it a test from his deity? An answer in itself? Was she offering him tough love, or was she simply busy?

He wouldn't know, for only the gentle smell of petrichor came as an answer to his plight.

Sam wasn't sure how long he waited, potential seconds stretching out like hours and days possibly minutes. It was hard to gauge time when he was so far removed from his body at the moment, not at all helped by the fact he couldn't actually see it anymore.

Eventually though, it was clear he was alone. No longer having the energy to go back home Sam curled up at the base of the statue, watched the pulses of electricity. Eventually, his hands came back, pale and veined as ever, still shaking and thin. A look down confirmed he had his nose (and therefore presumably the rest of his face) back too. Whether this was to do with the Voice or if the whole thing had been an upsetting new symptom of his mind he wasn't sure, but he was glad to have it over with.

In the early hours of the morning he stumbled out of the cave, wiping his eyes and sighing, looking up at the moon. He had never felt so utterly alone; he had friends but no companions, no partners, unless you counted his cat. Not even his Goddess would speak to him anymore.