Title: Failure
Rating: T
Summary: What if Mary hadn't died? What if John died? What if Mary turned abusize towards Sam? And what if Dean wasn't there to help Sam?
Warnings: Abuse, graphic.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I've unfortunately forgotten the name of the song being used. If you know it, please contact me.
Author's Note: I read a couple of John Abuse stories, and thought I'd try one with Mary being the bad one. Please be aware, that I've nothing against Mary.
His long body was curled up in the corner of the haunting room, his fragile shoulders were shaking with choking sobs. Salty tears quietly slid down his pale skin, before they landed on the beautiful patterned bathroom-tiles. He had angry red marks on his bruised face, showing where his mother's nails had cut through a few hours ago, having led the once fresh crimson blood slowly trickle down his damaged neck. He closed his swollen beautiful green eyes, in an attempt to shut out the intense pain, as the events of the horrible night kept replaying in his wrecked mind.
Everything short of suicide
Never hurts, nearly works
Sam opened the rusty old front door and stepped inside on the hard wooden floor. He was desperately praying to all the gods that he could think of, begging them to let her be asleep. He closed the door behind him as he silently took off his sneakers, exposing his white socks. He tiptoed up the creaking stairs trying to make as little noise as possible. A gasp escaped his mouth as Mary's silhouette came in his view. He crumpled, the fear was radiating out of his body.
"You're late again." Her dominating voice stated, the anger and disappointment was clear in her eyes. She quickly walked towards Sam, the ground squeaking underneath her feet. Sam stepped back, his back hitting the paper-thin wall. Before he got the chance to reply, his mother's hand connected with his cheek, leaving him with a stinging pain and a sour taste rolling of his tongue.
"M-mom, please don't." Fresh tears broke free and spilled over the edge, landing on his already wet cheeks. His sore throat ached, he closed his eyes trying to block out the burning sting. Sam held up his arms, shielding himself, trying to avoid the punches and slaps that kept washing over him.
"S-stop mom! P-please!" Sam pleaded as a punch sent him falling backwards, his head roughly colliding with the floor making a thud sound. His vision swam and black dots started to appear, but Sam quickly stabled himself, refusing to welcome the unconscious state, his body begged for. Mary didn't stop, she kept kicking him, sure to break a rib. She had lost control, her eyes were frantic, lips pressed together in one thin line, the anger demanding her to keep on, never minding the screams and begging coming from the young man - her son. With each yelp he let out, her rage increased and the kicks came faster and harder.
After what seemed like hours they blows stopped, but something much worse created its way into Sam's' ears.
"You're failure, Sam. You are nothing, but a mistake. What is wrong with you? Why can't you just be like your brother?" The words cut like a knife through his heart, his head started spinning even more and his vision became blurry, when new tears started to fill his eyes, threatening to fall and shatter on the ground beneath him. He closed his eyes, feeling the tears fall, greeting the numbing darkness that sweeped over his crushed body.
Mary looked at the crumpled form of her crying son, not noticing the thick line of blood dribbling from the corner of the shattered boy's mouth, nor the bruises that were already starting to form on the once-so-beautiful face.. With one deep breath she left the room, without earning her son any help.
Something is scratching
Its way out
Something you want
To forget about
A soft moan traveled its way from Sam's throat up his mouth, as the memories and the extreme pounding in his head became too much. He tried to get up, but quickly regretted as his entire body screamed out in burning pain, letting him collapse on the cold tiles.
A part of you that'll never show
You're the only one that'll ever know
Take it back when it all began
Take your time, would you understand
Shutting his eyes and letting his head loll to one side, he began thinking about love. He wanted to feel that again. Lovers. The tingly feeling in your stomach, when you first become friends, and when it travels up to your heart and you know its true love. Parents. He wanted to make her proud, or hear her say the usual "Good morning, honey" again. He missed the feeling of the hugs, where he would nuzzle his head against her chest, listening to her heart beating with pure love. Brothers. Sam missed they way him and Dean always were there for each other. How Dean always made him feel better and safe. How Dean would protect Sam from any threat, keep him shielded from any danger, and always be there to patch him up again. That was all gone now, Dean was gone, he was always busy working, Dad was gone, and mom was gone too. Just not in the same way.
Something is scratching
Its way out
Most of all, he just wanted someone to tell him they loved him. Just to hear the three simple words come out of someone's mouth, its only direction being Sam. The thought almost made him smile, but then he remembered the reality and the harsh truth.
All on your own with
No one around
Nobody would love him.
He was a mistake.
A failure.