X had finally gone to sleep just a few hours before sunrise. He was still asleep when Sam found him. The demon woke with a jolt feeling the little boy's fist against him. For someone so small, he packed a surprising punch. When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry, and it was difficult to make out where he was. But he recognized Sam. He recognized the boy and scrambled to get away from him, whimpering as his vision became more clear. "G-g-get away from me!" He rasped, his voice still hoarse from last night. When he tried to call Griffin's name, he hadn't enough strength to do it; his voice was gone entirely. He wanted to tell the boy that he'd be good, that he wouldn't hurt him or do anything mean to him anymore, because he didn't want Griffin anymore mad at him, but even if he could've spoken, it was unlikely Sam would listen. He was out for blood. X rose to his feet and tried to walk away from him, but he ended up tripping over his own foot. Back on the ground, he curled into a ball with his head buried in his knees and his arms wrapped about his head in effort to protect himself. He remembered running away from Griffin, and calling out for the man, begging him to come look for him. X knew Griffin never answered him, and that he'd spent the night alone wherever he was. Now, he desperately wished that he'd never said anything about Sam. He wished he could take back everything he said, even though he still meant every word.
