Author's Note/Content Warning: Hello everybody!! Thank you so much for the huge influx of support that you've given me today! As a (sort of?) reward, I've uploaded two chapters today! Though to be honest, it was more because I wasn't sure how to break one huge chapter up. I wanted to give the most accurate portrayal that I could of a character experiencing a mental health spiral and withdrawal symptoms, so please note that those things are contained in this chapter. In order to avoid triggers, please skip this chapter and wait for my next update! Until next time~

St. Benjamin did not move as Samantha got up, allowing her to place his hand in his lap and let go of it. Once standing, Samantha shook her body all over, lifting her head and crying out. She had spent the last of her energy, and she could no longer hold back her anxiety, her depression, or any of the other feelings that drove her to insanity. She ran around the foxhole, which was much smaller when one was running, tidying things or just fiddling with them while talking to herself quietly but passionately. "This is it," she murmured, "I can't run anymore. I want to run. I need to run. I can't get out." She stopped talking only to scream with her mouth closed, and she began quickly pacing the perimeter of the room. She tripped in one of the holes she'd dug for her own excrement and cursed loudly both at the pain and at the hole itself. She took all the sticks she had put in a pile earlier and broke them all into the smallest pieces she could manage. Then she threw them against the wall, letting out another muffled scream as they ricocheted back at her.

"I have to get out of here," she muttered to herself as she took up pacing once again, "I need to run. I don't want to be here anymore. I'm going to go to Mexico. I'm going to run there. I don't care how long it takes me, I'm just going to get on the road and run and never stop." Ironically, after saying this, she did stop moving. "Ao-ao," she reminded herself suddenly, "I won't be here for Ao-ao. Even if I stay here, this guy is going to eat me. He'll think I've forgotten about him. I don't have anything to leave for him, I didn't bring anything with me when I came to this place. Everything I have is left behind. I only have my clothes, and now half of them are bloodied. That's not a good thing to leave for anyone. I can't leave him that. I could give him my shirt? But who wants a shirt? It's smelly and it means nothing. It's just a pajama top." At this, she laid down abruptly on the ground and began to cry loudly.

Sometimes, St. Benjamin could make out words through Samantha's tears, but they were disjointed and he could make no sense out of any of them. He was aware that she was suffering acutely, but he had never seen anyone act like this and had no idea what to do to help. After trying to think of something he could do and coming up emptyhanded, he figured it was best if he remained easy to ignore. After everything he had said to her, and since he was unsure if it was related to the way she was behaving now, he resigned himself to the thought that he could do nothing to help her except eventually fulfill their promises to one another after she died. Small tears came unexpectedly to his eyes, but he blinked them away and assured himself they had never been there in the first place.

Suddenly, Samantha stopped crying and shouted, "My glasses! I'll give him my glasses. I don't know what he'll do with glasses, but they're mine, and they're nicer than my shirt, and he can have them. But where are they? I haven't seen them since... since..." she paused. "I don't remember when I saw them! That's why they're lost!" she exclaimed, and resumed shouting. "Glasses! Where are you? Where are you? I can't see a thing and for once it's because it's pitch-f***ing-black in here and not because I'm not wearing my glasses!" Samantha speedwalked back to the bed and began flinging furs off of it as if she were throwing sheets out in front of her to fold. "Ugh, these things are heavy," she grunted loudly, continuing to flip and discard furs one by one until at last, she heard a clattering sound.

"My glasses!" she shrieked, "Nobody move! I just need to feel around," at this point, she lowered herself to a crawling position and spread her hands out in front of her, feeling around for the lost spectacles. "Not here, not here, not here," she murmured to herself impatiently, until at last she cried out, "Glasses!", holding them skyward in her hand in victory. She felt her way to St. Benjamin and took his hand, opening it and placing her glasses in it. "Make sure he gets these," she panted, "If I'm not here, make sure he finds them." Samantha didn't wait for his reply, and although she was clearly exhausted, she resumed pacing next to the walls of the foxhole. This time, she didn't utter a sound aside from the occasional sob.

Eventually, she began to shiver and her teeth began to chatter, although St. Benjamin could smell the sweat dripping from her body. Exhausted, she went back to the furs she had strewn over the side of the room and wrapped herself tightly in one of the thinner furs. The scorpion beastman remained still, although he continued to watch her. Samantha was restless and unable to lie still, twitching her legs by bending and straightening them rapidly. St. Benjamin's curiosity was piqued; he had seen beasts move like this when they were near death, and despite his claims to the contrary, he was still uncertain as to whether or not he actually wanted Samantha to die. He put down the mysterious glasses and moved toward her to get a closer look, and the sudden movement startled her. Suddenly, her entire body began to shake uncontrollably, and he jumped onto her, all three sets of his extra limbs as well as his tail forming instantaneously.

He grabbed hold of Samantha with every appendage he had in an attempt to keep her still, but she was surprisingly strong and he feared that if he held onto her too hard, she would break one of her bones while she was convulsing. Summoning all of his courage and concentration, St. Benjamin drew a large amount of venom into his tail, held Samantha's torso still as best he could, and stung her. He injected his venom into her body as quickly as he could, and she was still at last. Climbing on top of her, he clutched her limp body with his arms, lifting her so that he could steady her by placing his tail between her legs and behind her, and his three smaller sets of limbs around her back which he used to hug her tightly. One of his arms cradled her head, and he placed his own head on the other side of it, mingling his tears with her sweat. His last hand stroked Samantha's hair while he wept, sometimes silently, sometimes whispering things into her ear that nobody could hear.