Samuel gasped, his mind whirling in a mixture of pain and relief, sadness and joy. It hurt him mentally more than it did physically. He trembled under the weight of the holy magic, but he was able to at least somewhat get his knees under him. He hadn't been able to move in so long. Then he felt some weight lifted from him, and he hugged himself, arms feeling like lead. Samuel wanted to sleep, really sleep, without fear or terror, but even he knew it would be a long road to recover.<br/><br/>But suddenly he felt they were somewhere else. All the darkness, hopelessness, all the evil was stripped out from around him. He was still on the floor, but now it was somewhere else. "I'm out?" he whispered, unseeing eyes wide. "I'm free? I didn't fall? Please...I don't want to fall. I don't. I tried. I'm still trying. I just..." He was rambling on and on, and he couldn't seem to stop. Samuel hadn't spoken much at all over the years. He'd learned quickly not to pray out loud, and beyond the screams he knew better than to speak with their captors. It made it difficult for them to psychologically torture him if he didn't take the bait.<br/><br/>When Milo pleaded to help him, he whimpered again and reached out his hands, the limbs shaking from atrophy. "Yes. I want to go back. I don't want to be tortured anymore." Yes, Samuel had come close, and it felt so surreal that his prayers were answered. "God, yes, I'll do anything. I'll bathe in holy water. I don't want this corruption in me. I'll confess, whatever it takes."