She believed him. If there was still one thing Heather really and truly trusted and believed, it was Sam. Whatever he said was the truth, except for the part about none of this being real. That was wrong. It was real, very real. But other than that, she listened to what he said and let it really sink in as the truth,
She squeezed her eyes shut and keened softly, which became progressively louder as Sam continued to clean each cut thoroughly. However, once she realized there was a more pleasant sound mixed in with her own pained whimpers and her father's incessant snarking, she stopped. Her eyes were still closed tightly, she still held her breath against the pain and held his hand tightly, but she listened to his humming and felt a small shred of comfort. She wasn't using the pain to ignore her father, but rather she was using his humming to ignore both of the other two. That was nice. That was a much better solution.
Once he started to bandage her up, she opened her eyes again. Her father was gone, and now it seemed it really was only the two of them, the way it was supposed to be without any visions or ghosts lingering around.
"Okay," she whispered, reaching up to gingerly poke at each bandage.