Sam's Back || Book 1 of 2 in the Sam's Back series

1

Hermitcraft was safe. In fact, it was probably the safest place Grian had ever been. He was friends with everyone and could trust each and every hermit. Some rivalries had been formed but only as playful banter. No one wanted to hurt him.

That wasn't to say, though, that sometimes he wasn't a victim to his own mind and PTSD. Occasionally, he'd have a nightmare, or two, and sometimes that occasionally actually meant most nights. But some nights he didn't, some nights he dreamt of his true friends and of normal things. Those nights were getting more and more frequent, and Grian was finally starting to heal from the manipulation of Sam.

It was... nice, to say the least. Over the years of his high school life, he'd forgotten what it was like to be safe and loved, and now he was remembering. Or perhaps really he was finding out for the first time in his life.

Unfortunately, good days also came with bad days. And today was a bad day.

The short hermit woke with a fright, bolting up in bed and reaching out to the nothingness that lingered in the air. He took deep breaths, comforting himself, as he was used to doing.

It was just a dream, he can't get you.

He whispered it time and time again, hugging his arms around his legs. He was shaking despite being in the warm air of the jungle.

He'd dreamt that he was still in high school, he dreamt of Taurtis being stabbed by Sam at Halloween and taking him to hospital after he passed out from blood loss on the bus. He dreamt of the next morning on the train when Sam gave him Taurtis's clothes and forced him to wear them. He dreamt of the small, suppressed panic attack he'd forced himself to ignore when changing in the small train toilet cubicle. It was the time when he started to realise Sam was crazy.

The memories were as clear as the ones from the day before, when he'd been breeding cats with Scar.

He gripped his duvet like a lifeline, until he calmed down a bit. The nightmare had been particularly bad, and he could tell he was going to be a bit shaken for the day, but it would be worse if he stayed in bed thinking about it. So he stood up and got dressed. Besides, he was meeting up with Mumbo to chill in the shopping district, so that instantly made the day better.

***

"Hey Gri!" Mumbo called out as he saw his best friend fly above. The said hermit spammed a few rockets and gracefully landed by the moustached man outside the town hall.

"Hi!" He said, it had been an hour and a half since waking up from the dream, and the worst parts still lingered in his head, but he had his mind set on trying to be happy and up-beat. "What's up with you?" He asked, realising they hadn't spoken in at least two weeks.

"Oh, nothing much, how about you?" Mumbo replied, smiling.

"About the same, I completely finished the Barge though." Grian replied, taking off his helmet to see the other better. He put it into his inventory.

"I noticed, it looks great!" Mumbo said, also taking his helmet because he felt as though he should since Grian did it. "Anyway, what shop should we go to first?" They weren't really planning on doing anything productive, just wandering around the district talking. Browsing shops seemed a good activity to make the air more casual and comfortable.

"I don't know, your choice." Grian replied, smiling. He already knew they'd end up in a redstone shop.

He was right, they went to the Red Zone to admire the terraining and architecture Bdubs had built while Mumbo checked out all the barrels of red magical witchcraft supplies. Grian watched Mumbo curiously, wondering what all the things meant to him. He wouldn't admit to also taking in the small details of how he moved and how he looked so admiringly at the components.

They chatted and walked slowly across the bright green island that was formerly mycelium. It was comfortable, and Grian was beginning to relax more after the dream. Something about the sweetness of Mumbo and all his other friends always made him feel better. They never stopped his problems altogether, but they numbed the pain.

They were passing the Monsters Brew when they saw a few bunnies hopping around. Three were white and two were brown. Mumbo smiled at them, and after a moment's hesitation Grian did too.

He wasn't scared of rabbits, but sometimes the white ones would trigger a bad memory. Sometimes they made him jump, or sometimes he just didn't want to be near them. Sam always wore white bunny hats.

Right now, though, he was with someone. He was with Mumbo and a mixture of not wanting to show a fear that would seem irrational to others and also feeling brave because he was with someone stopped him from shying away. Bunnies were cute and harmless after all, he reminded himself.

"Aw, what are you called?" Mumbo asked one, crouching and reading the nametag that was wrapped around one's neck. "Susan." He said, smiling.

Grian followed suit and crouched down next to a particularly fluffy white one and read the nametag. It was in what he recognised to be Sam's handwriting. Unsettlingly neat, loopy, quite pretty to anyone who didn't know Sam. It looked a bit like Stress's but without the sweet essence of charm to it. He froze.

Mumbo looked at the names of two others before noticing that Grian hadn't moved. He looked at the shorter hermit and realised he'd gone oddly pale. He glanced at the nametag he was still holding.

In Stress's loopy handwriting was written;

Sam

It didn't seem significant, but the expression on Grian's face caused him to worry.

"Are you okay?" He asked, tapping the blonde's shoulder and seemingly bringing him back to the present. He flinched at the touch and moved away suddenly, scaring the bunny, then he met eyes with Mumbo and a bit of colour returned to his face.

"Sorry, I just, uh..." he trailed off. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to lock himself away. He wanted to never have to explain why a white bunny called Sam terrified him. He wanted to never have to explain why he'd have a panic attack if someone ever jokingly addressed him as 'Gree-on'. He wanted to not overanalyse Stress's writing every time he saw it for fear of it actually being Sam's.

He almost wanted to see Sam again so that the wonder of if he ever would wouldn't eat away at him.

Mumbo looked at him with concern and for some reason it didn't help.

He didn't want to be 'that poor guy who was manipulated and almost murdered by a sociopath'. That was why he joined Hermitcraft in the first place, to get away from all the people who looked at him like that.

"You don't have to say why, but are you okay?" Mumbo asked, going to put an arm around him but regretting it when Grian flinched out of instinct. He pulled his arm back. "Sorry."

"I, uh..." he wanted to say something, and he should've done, but he glanced at the rabbit and it stared at him. It was staring him dead in the eyes.

He can't get you, he can't get you, he can't get you, he repeated in his head. Why was it staring at him? Were it's eyes red or was his mind making it up? Was that Sam's handwriting or was it Stress's, was he looking too deeply into things again? It seemed to get bigger, it had power over him and it knew it. It knew he was scared of it. It knew he would cower beneath it.

"Grian?" Mumbo's voice suggested that it was in fact a care free little sweetheart that was clueless to his fear. If it was staring at him the way he thought it was then he would've surely done something about it by now. He blinked at it, but it looked to him like it was hiding a knife and would surely stab him as soon as it got the chance.

He did the only thing he could think to do.

He stood up and ran. He launched multiple rockets and left in a foreign direction. He was going to get away.

Maybe Mumbo called after him, maybe he didn't. Maybe he chased him for a while or maybe he just got on with his day. He honestly didn't know.

All he knew was that his heart was beating way too fast to be normal and all the memories of Sam were rushing through his head at the speed of light.