Bound in Spirals

Author's Note:

The first chapter of my story contains no sex, it focuses entirely on plot build up. If you're looking for a quickie, I suggest you look elsewhere.

This story contains minor gore and graphic descriptions of pain(Unrelated to sex). Just to warn those who are bothered by that sort of thing.

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are 18 years of age or above.

Major thanks to my editor, Ed. He helped to fix the numerous grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own.

—————

"SAM! GET THE HELL OUTTA BED!"

Sam woke instantly, flopping out of his covers, and onto the floor. His stepmother pounded on his door incessantly, yelling all the while.

"GET UP! YOU'VE GOT WORK!"

Sam groaned as he lay sprawled on the polished wood in a tangle of limbs and blankets. 'My damn alarm clock is gonna go off in like five minutes! Why does she insist on scaring the shit out of me to wake me up?!' He thought as he slowly stumbled to his feet.

"I'm up! I'm up! Jesus..." He said.

Sam grumbled a flurry of curses and complaints, as he yanked open his dresser. He pulled on a pair of navy colored boxer briefs, and heard the heavy footfalls fade down the hall. His step-mom had always been cruel to him, but at least before she was more subtle about it. Ever since his father had passed she'd 'come out of her shell' so to speak, and seemed to take pleasure in Sam's pain.

Sam pulled on a white T-shirt, and zipped up his blue jeans. As he stepped out of his room he bumped straight into his half sister, Janine, as she walked out of the bathroom, all dressed for school.

"Sorry." She muttered and looked down.

Sam attempted to lighten his mood a bit, "It's fine."

He curled his lip in a half smile as she looked at him. At least Janine was kind to him, if somewhat distant. He stepped to the side to let her pass, then walked into the bathroom she had just exited. After relieving himself, he wet his brown hair and combed the bedhead out of it. His icy blue eyes stared back daggers at him in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

A few minutes later, he found himself grabbing a dry bagel, and trying to make his way to the door without running into anyone else in the house. He tied his shoes quickly, and was halfway out the door when a nasally voice called his name.

"Sam, you're taking me and Becca to the mall after school." His other half sister Madeline said with an arrogant tone.

'I was so close to making it out...' He considered outright denying her, but decided against it. Sam had tried that before, and the snobby 17 year old had made his life hell for the next two weeks. He shivered slightly as the memory of her beating him with her softball bat in the middle of the night came back to him. He'd been bruised all over for weeks.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." he said, with as much defiance as he dared.

Sam stepped out into the overcast town in the middle of Oregon. He began his routine four mile walk to the library. Sam didn't mind the walk, in fact he found it was one of his favorite times of every day. It gave him time to think to himself without interruption, the only sounds were the regular scratches of his feet touching the ground, and the occasional passing car. Sam started to get frustrated with himself almost immediately, as he thought.

He could have left the abusive household a year before when he turned 18, but at the time he had felt some sort of obligation to his father's house. At this point he wanted to leave, but he no longer had the car he had a year ago, not since Madeline totaled it after taking it to one of her parties. So, he had nowhere to go, no car to travel in, and the only money he had was the meager 50 bucks he'd been stashing away since his step-mom started confiscating it to 'pay for the utilities'.

'Damn it all, I knew I should've left when I could, if I try and leave now I'll end up a hitchhiking hobo!' Sam let out an exasperated sigh, and pushed the pessimistic thoughts from his mind. 'Just focus on saving up for now, and when I have enough to get out of this godforsaken town I'll hightail it on out to Portland and find work. Yeah, that'll do.'

Sam soon arrived at the large library, where he worked as the librarians assistant. He stepped past the automatic glass doors, and into the expanse of the first floor. As he passed the front desk, a dignified voice spoke.

"Here early again, I see."

He turned to see Ms. Albright sat at the desk, peering up from behind her metal framed glasses. She had a book on home remedies in her right hand, and a steaming coffee in the other.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to get away from the house as quick as I could." Sam said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Oh, I have no issues with you arriving before nine, as long as you're willing to work." She replied with a confident grin. "The return books are stacked over there on the cart, if you would start replacing those that would be helpful."

She nodded her head to the grey cart piled high with a random assortment of books to the left, behind Sam. He smiled back, and turned to get started. He still felt awkward, and nervous talking to Ms. Albright, despite having worked with her for the past three years, full time for one of them. He'd had a huge crush on her since before he even started. She had a pretty face, a lean body, and looked very young despite being in her mid 30s. However, it wasn't her physical features that attracted him most, though it did help.

It was the sophisticated way that she spoke, the fact that she seemed to have at least a little knowledge on just about everything, and the all around confidence with which she handled herself. She acted in the way Sam expected a queen, or at least a noble lady would have in the past. Unfortunately, those were the same reasons Sam felt she was out of reach.

Sam daydreamed of Ms. Albright for quite a while as he went from aisle to aisle, returning the books to their rightful homes. He had finished putting away a third of the books on the cart as he heard the bells indicating it was nine o'clock, coming from the church a couple blocks away. Soon after, people started coming in to pick up new books, and return old ones.

Sam continued his task, listening absentmindedly to the occasional conversations that occurred. He eventually came to the end of the first floor aisles, and brought the remaining books, by hand, up the stairs to the second floor where most of the non-fiction books were organized.

Finally, after nearly three hours, Sam had finished his task. He returned to the first floor to ask if Ms. Albright needed him to do anything else. After she said she didn't, at the moment, he went back to the second floor. He sat down at his favorite desk in the library, and pulled out the book on emergency first-aid that he'd been reading during his free time the last few weeks.

An hour later, Sam put the book back where it belonged, having finished it, and decided to ask again if Ms. Albright needed help. As he walked down the stairs once again, he saw that she was in the middle of a conversation. He wandered through the sci-fi section as he waited patiently. After around five minutes the man she was speaking to left, and he approached her.

"Do you need me to do anything now, ma'am?" Sam asked, just as she sat back down behind her desk.

"Yes actually, I do." She said, and held out the book in her hand. "Return this to the archive room, please, and dust the place off while you are at it."

Sam nodded, and took the ancient looking book from her hand. He strode toward the glorified closet in the back of the library. He stepped through the door with 'Archive' engraved on it, and into the musty room.

It was pitch black inside, and dust particles permeated the air. Sam had only been inside the room a few times before, to return a book similarly, and to dust. The place seemed like a sepulcher for the archaic leather books that lined the walls. Sam squinted his eyes, and coughed as dust was pulled outward with the door. As he closed the door behind him, he reached out blindly for the cord attached to the light.

He found it, and pulled down. The light clicked on, revealing the wooden shelves, caked with dust. He could hardly read the titles on the books, so he decided to dust first to find the right place for the book in his hand. Hanging from a nail above was a feather duster. Sam grabbed it after setting down the book, and pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth as he dusted.

After dusting off the books he was able to find the place where the book belonged. He was about to leave when a black book with gold lettering caught his eye. The title was in another language, it was a whirling, twisted looking alphabet that he didn't recognize. He pulled it from the shelf, and opened it. The first page was a table. A bunch of words were circled, then connected to each other in seemingly random lines, most likely showing some sort of correlation that he couldn't see.

Sam cleared a spot on the floor and sat down, suddenly riveted by this bizarre book. He began skimming through the pages delicately, stopping whenever he saw another picture. He was about to go ask Ms. Albright if she knew anything about the book when he came across an intriguing pattern pressed into one of the pages near the middle. It was a three dimensional drawing. Four lines came to the center from each corner of the page, creating a hallway effect.

Inside the lines were swirling patterns that seemed almost impossibly intricate to Sam. He became mesmerized by the picture, soon his eyes began to become unfocused, and he felt like he was staring into space. The patterns seemed to twist, and Sam's mind felt foggy. Suddenly, his vision went black. Sam blinked a few times, but it remained dark. He still felt the book in his hands, so he didn't think he'd passed out.

'What the hell is going on?' Sam asked himself. He felt like he should be freaking out, but his mind was too muddled to form anything beyond confusion. Then, he started seeing similar patterns to what was on the page, only they were a glowing gold among a sea of black. His mind felt like it drifted into the pattern, and flowed with it for a while. Finally, all at once, he seemed to enter a mind once again, only it wasn't his own.

He became a sort of spectator in the mind of another man, and just as suddenly, lost his self awareness. He was one with that man...

———

Samson picked up the long sword at his feet. His aggressor stood mere feet from him, waiting for him to recover from the previous attack. He was perplexed by the behavior, 'If it were me, I would have taken my head off already!' Lifting the hefty blade, he got into a ready stance.

Every time the inimically silent man had disarmed him, he had allowed Samson to retrieve his sword. He felt himself becoming frustrated at the manners with which the knight fought. 'He must think me a fool, a struggling mouse to be toyed with by the cat. No, no, I can't let my emotions get the best of me, he is of noble birth, and simply wants to allow me an honorable death. Yes, that's probably it.'

The opposing figure nodded in his gleaming white helm, light reflected off the top and blinded Samson for a moment. He stepped back, preparing for the powerful blow that was sure to come. The grey whirling pattern that stood out on the man's iridescent armor had a rather hypnotic effect as he moved to swing down at him. He barely had time to parry as he pulled himself out of the stupor. Samson stole to the right, readying himself once again for a block.

Samson deflected the up-swinging blade, sending the man off balance as the heavy broadsword dragged him backward. Sidestepping, Samson lunged for the gap in the armor at the left shoulder. His blade slipped in and sliced shallow. The other man's sword came down, and tore into his own shoulder. The wound burned in the background of his mind, the excitement of battle dampening it considerably. Unlike the cut Samson had scored, this one was not superficial, it cut inches into his muscle and hindered the movement of his left arm. He tried to access his power, but he was too exhausted.

Samson hadn't expected such a quick retaliation. He pulled back and whacked the blade away, trying to regain some maneuverability. His armor felt as though it was pulling him toward the earth, the fight had gone on far too long. He was dismayed to find his opponent looked unfazed by fatigue. He hauled up his sword, and tightened his muscles ready to spring at a moments notice. The two began to circle each other, looking for any opportunity.

'There!' Samson swung as the man put too much weight on his forefoot. His blade arced forth with as much strength as he had. Samson realized too late that it was a feint. He, and his blade, clattered to the soft earth before he saw what happened. He was again plagued by malevolent thoughts as the man stepped back, to allow him to his feet. His faced twisted into a scowl.

"Kill me already, You've had countless opportunities to end my life! Quit playing around like this is some friendly spar!" He growled at the man.

"Oh, is it not?" The pompous voice reverberated out from the white helm.

Samson's blood boiled within him. He gripped his longsword and stood, his stance unguarded, his blade at his right side. He lunged furiously at the man, his first blow rending into the man's left thigh, the metal shredded inward. An astonished gasp escaped from the man along with a hiss of pain. Samson's second strike was deflected with ease as the man recovered. A flurry of blows were exchanged, neither giving up any ground.

The sharp clangs of sword on sword rang out across the battlefield where few remained alive. Samson pulled every last ounce of energy out for this rally of back and forth. Finally an opening appeared and he took it. With a yell he struck, his blade tasting delicious blood as he severed the man's left arm from the elbow down. Fingers twitched in the gauntleted forearm lying on the ground. Samson was overcome with pride, his anger abated for the moment.

Because of this, he was too slow in retreat. The man howled in pain as he lunged for Samson's heart. Samson stumbled back, only just diverting the attack. He felt fear, and pain like he'd never felt before as the hostile blade bit into his chest. Time seemed to slow, and he felt every inch as the sword slipped slowly between his ribs, and pierced his right lung. The pain felt like he was being trampled under hoof, and being scorched with a branding iron at the same time.

He tripped backward and heard a wet, slick noise as the blade was pulled from his chest. Blood and spittle fell in globs from his mouth as he coughed while hunched forward. Samson looked up to see his adversary had dropped his blade and was clutching the stump of his remaining arm. Sobs echoed from the man as he stumbled back, and fell. Samson too, crumpled to the ground, his blood pooling inside his plate as he lay there.

The pain slowly faded away along with his mind. Black spots flickered in his vision as he pondered what would await in the next life. With an exhale that seemed to exude finality, Samson closed his eyes and breathed no more...

———

Sam woke from the vision, in similar fashion to how he'd entered it. He felt his mind separate from the man sharing his name, and pulled back into the swirling golden abyss. Then his eyes returned to the blindness of before, and he felt his own body once again, still sitting cross legged with the book in his lap. Slowly his vision returned. Sam gasped, and tried to throw the book away, but found his body felt weak, like it had been drained of blood.

An excruciating pain hit him square in the chest, and he tried to scream. All that came out was a gurgled yelp as he coughed up bile. Sam felt dread overwhelm his mind, he began to panic. He felt as though his soul was being ripped from his body, if that was even possible. The pain in his chest continued to escalate to the point he felt like his ribs were being torn out. He made one last attempt at a scream for help as he flopped backward, his limbs writhing about on the ground. Just before he passed out, he saw the door open, and Ms. Albright looked down at him. On her face was terror, and maybe some realization as she looked at the book still clenched in his hand...

As Sam's world went black, for the second time in mere minutes, he saw those damned writhing swirls of scintillating gold once again. He was no longer enthralled by those patterns, they seemed dangerous. He tried to get away from them but quickly realized there was no running from the omnipresent patterns. Sam felt surprisingly lucid, considering he'd just passed out from pain moments before. 'It feels as though my mind is moving somehow... that doesn't really make any sense though. Does it?' Sam thought.

Sam observed the patterns around him as they seemed to twist into infinity, and he began to wonder what all of this was. 'Am I just going bonkers, or is this some sort of hypnotize thing, or magic maybe?' As he was thinking this, he noticed a point where the patterns were more concentrated, and somehow knew that was the way his mind was traveling.

One of the swirls at the center of the point he was moving to, began to expand and started to engulf him. Then, he felt his mind begin to unravel, and his thoughts became disjointed. 'Wow that's... I'm not... feeling is... portals maybe... coming to... mindful for...'

His mind felt like an ocean in a storm, thoughts crashing into one another like waves buffeted by the wind. All at once his mind seemed to begin pouring into his body, like water through a funnel...

Sam gasped a deep breath as he woke. He felt a sharp pressure on his chest, like something sharp was poking him, and he was laying in a warm liquid, on his back. Blinking furiously, his eyes adjusted to the bright light pounding down on him. The light was streaming through the slats in his helmet. 'Wait, helmet?' he thought as his mind tried to make sense of where he was. Sam attempted to move, but he still felt somewhat disconnected from his body.

'Okay, calm down Samson you are fine, just relax, and let yourself wake up a bit.' He thought to himself in his fathers soothing, baritone voice.

Finally, after several minutes, he felt like his body was as awake as his mind, or close to it. Lifting his arms, he felt metal weighing them down. He tried to shake it off, but it was apparently attached somehow. He brought his arms toward his face as he opened his eyes, and saw a shadowy grey gauntleted hand. Sam felt around his helmet, trying to pry it off so he could see more easily. Eventually he seemed to pop some sort of fastener, and he threw the helmet to his side. With his head freed he peered down at his body, he was in a full suit of armor the same color as the gauntlets.

He noticed what the poking feeling was from, in the breastplate was a large hole with metal bent inward. There were flecks of blood on the metal around the opening. 'Is that my blood?' Sam thought, he poked into the hole, and his plated glove came back dry. 'No, I guess it isn't.'

He tried to lift himself upward, but the metal that was sticking in began to hurt his chest. His fingers scoured the plate, trying to figure out how to remove it. Eventually, he gave up, and just yanked on it. He felt it give slightly as he pulled, so he strained harder, until finally it popped off. The piece flung upward, and clanged to the ground next to him.

He pulled himself upward now, and looked at his surroundings. Leaning against his right leg, was a familiar dark steel sword, engraved with silver runes. 'This, this is the sword from my vision. Did I take over that man's body?'