Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

Hey, again, guys!

Hello to all my wonderful readers!

That was an evil cliffie, I know, but here it is!

The first chapter of Lacrymosa, "gift-wrapped and ready to go." :P

And I'll be changing the tense a little bit, just tweaking it around.

Chapter title borrowed from AC/DC.

Lyrics borrowed from Martina McBride's 'Concrete Angel'.

IMPORTANT- There is going to be some violence in the next few chapters, so nobody under thirteen, I guess.

Reviews, please!

On that happy note, on with it, shall we?

A statue stands in a shaded place,

An angel girl with an upturned face,

A name is written on a polished rock,

A broken heart that the world forgot.

CHAPTER ONE- DEEP IN THE HOLE

They never stop screaming.

I can never see them, there is nothing but grayness and fog around me, but they always scream.

Always.

And there is pain.

Mind-numbing, agonizing, pain.

It never leaves, and he never stops.

Alistair does his job well.

I let out a scream of my own as Alistair thrusts the knife in deeper, intensifying the hot, aching waves of pain flowing over me.

It is excruciating.

I writhe, futilely trying to get myself off the rack, get myself away from him, from his knife.

The nails lodged in my back only dig in deeper- bringing more pain.

Pain.

Pain is relative- every time you get hurt, your definition of it changes, for better or for worse.

What is my definition?

I do not know.

Pain is a hundred different things- watching the life fade from Jared's eyes, seeing Sammy's body cold and lifeless on the hospital bed, watching Dean die choking on his own blood.

Pain is the memory of Cas throwing me aside without a second thought.

My heart throbs in response to my thoughts.

But hearts do not matter here.

Only pain, and death, and blood, and misery, because this is hell.

And right now, pain is Alistair slicing every inch of my skin with a hot metal knife.

Physically, it is more torturous than anything I have ever faced before.

But my mind itself is the worst torture of all.

For now.

"I don't want to stay here, Odette. I don't want to be here with you. I don't care."

A new, colder sort of ache fills me, and coupled with my wounds, it is unbearable.

But I do not cry.

Hell is no place for tears.

Eventually, I give up trying to escape.

It is a vicious cycle- I realize fighting is of no use, but I do it anyway.

Because if I don't, I will go mad, revisiting all my nightmarish realities.

I have lost count of how many there are.

I wonder if Sam is looking for me, if he is alright.

I hope he does not find my body.

Alistair stops for a while, surveying his handiwork.

I belatedly notice that I have not stopped screaming.

He does not taunt me today, and for that, I am glad.

I already know how utterly, helplessly, pitiable I am.

How weak.

I stare dumbly at myself- I am covered with deep, bleeding cuts, or long, rough scars from past days under Alistair's skilled hands.

There is not an inch of unmarked skin.

I am no longer beautiful.

I am no longer anything.

Alistair starts again, and I close my eyes.

I do not want to see the deplorable state I am in.

But I can feel.

Cas' face fills my mind, and more than ever, I want to cry.

But I can't.

I do not think I am alive enough to be capable of producing tears.

Anger erupts in me now- hot and strong and instinctive.

All my rage is directed at Cas, but I still can't blame him.

Who would want to stay with me?

And I am angrier than ever at him because of it.

And yet, for all of that, I still can't hate him.

And I hate myself all the more for it.

I do not know why I care so much.

It is obvious he never did.

I am almost grateful for the distraction as Alistair switches to a scalpel.

I concentrate on the physical pain alone, and it is enough, more than enough, to keep me occupied.

I do not know how much time has passed in hell.

It could have been an hour, or it could have been a year.

The only thing I am sure of is that I am in pain, and that I always will be in pain.

I still cannot see them, but the other souls keep screaming.

My voice has joined them.

So what do you think? Reviews are love!