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.
"I...I assume the...this..." He said, waving hands he could not see in front of his face. "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."
Samuel
I tried to dance with the devil on your back
