First and foremost, i'd like to say thank you, from the deepest of my heart, to my beta Kiki who translated all my fic in English (basically it's a french's fic... « A la croisée des destins »)
She made a wonderful job here...
WARNING
Some chapters of this fic could hurt some people. I will put warnings in the beginning of each chapter that could hurt you.
Even if this story is considered as a fiction, the locations, situations or universes (like the Cage or the hospital) or characters reactions are used as a fictive story, keep in mind that those kinds of abuse could unfortunately be real. It is actually inspired by a part of my own childhood and some of my friends.
Those abuses could happen right now as you're reading these lines. Some of them can't even be expressed out loud, it's taboo. They keep the pain, the shame, the guilt and their victims, children or adults, locked.
This reality can exist even right next to you. Please don't stay unconcerned, care for them and for all the people Dean and Cas portray in this story.
This fic was very hard for me to begin and often hard to write. It will probably be hard for some of you to read too but I can assure there will be some light and hope in it anyway.
This first chapter will be a "soft" introduction.
PROLOGUE
This story takes place somewhere in the north-east of America, in a little town where winters are too cold and summers are too hot. A little town like any other in the world. No addresses, no famous locations because this is not the point of this story. Consider this as a landmark for you and your imagination not be lost, an anchor for the story not to be too far away from the reality.
Even if the story has probably its load of incoherence, keep in mind all stories probably have. Just know that behind those words, the shouts you hear, the pains you perceive won't be fake. As you're reading these lines, more victims shout and cry in silence and in total indifference for most of them. This is a safety for their tormentors.
But what if the victims could speak?
I have such big compassion for them that I couldn't let them die on the side of my road. I've shared some pain with them, we understand each other so well. They are the voice of those who can't speak and suffer in silence. They are fictive characters in these pages but don't forget they can be a reality in the world you're living in, maybe right in your neighborhood. Would you hear them?
Would you fake not listening?
Listen to them. Look at them.
Please.
CHAPTER 1: THE CAGE
Pain woke him up. He stood up wincing, holding his ribs out of breathe. He stared at his till bloody but bandaged hands. Those hands full of anger and rage. Cops gave a surprise visit again and here he was in another jail cell. At least this time he didn't have to share it so he could sleep a few hours.
Well… sleep was kind of a euphemism. He couldn't have sleep for years, he usually just dozed. His nights were full of nightmares, legacy of his past. Those faces he was punching several times a month, he was punching so hard.
He was almost 30 and had no hopes for the future. Actually he never had any. His life was only survival. If he was still alive it was because he promised him. Damn promise. More like a gold prison to a dying brother.
"If you knew Sammy…My pain, the death inside my veins, you would never have asked for such a sacrifice from me. Live yeah… but live for what? You're not even here anymore. I'm alone and I just want to die but you have forbidden it to me."
He lived doing poor jobs, just enough to be able to pay for poor motel rooms, as empty as he was, as dark as his tortured soul was.
One day in an alley he fought again, with such blinding rage, but there was a witness this time… Gaby. The guy took care of him, talked to him about "the Cage" and made an offer. Dean had nothing to lose, just rage to spread so he accepted.
The underground fights usually took place in basements, night clubs, warehouses or empty houses. There were no rules, except you can't hit the crotch. As only protection he had bandaged hands to avoid fractures, and something to protect his face. Protecting his teeth was an option. Everything else was allowed. Locked in a cage, they fought in front of a screaming audience exited by blood, holding their money like they'd pay God for those allowed butcheries.
He fell a lot, but he won most of the time. Everybody there called him "Rage". This nickname is now for him like a second nature. He put this most hated face on each of his opponent's face. This face that pursuits him even in his sleep. In the Cage he could at least hit it, damn it… or kill it.
He often found himself riding his opponent's body during a fight, hitting his face and screaming his hate. More than one man is usually needed to separate him from his prey. The hate is sometimes so big tears appear in his crazy eyes. Both anger and pain under one mask.
"Rage" was fascinating, but Gaby was no fool. He knew Dean only hoped for one thing when he was in the Cage: to find a strong opponent who could end all of the pain that eats him every day from the inside.
Dean hated himself.
"Winchester! Get up! The Attorney wants to see you."
Dean breathed deeply. "Frank Deveraux" … he thought as he looked up. He met him when he was first arrested after his fourth fight and since then they meet way too often. He usually warns him and sends him in jail for a few days, and then Dean would start again.
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Frank stood up to hang his coat, and then he sat exhaling loudly. On his desk, the file of Dean Winchester was laying. He opened it with one finger, making himself more comfortable in his big creaking fake leather chair. He just couldn't help, he really wanted to save the guy. He could feel the pain through his perkiness. He knew his past life, his ruined childhood, the hell he grew up in. He really wanted to give him another image of life, other than the one he built for himself.
But to be saved he needed the will to do it, and Dean only wanted to die. He was already dead for so long in a way. Frank gave a look at another file that was laying on his desk… It seems like misery knocks at all doors… maybe if he could make them meet… maybe it would change Dean's mind. One last chance and Dean would lose all of it.
Frank was an old attorney at the end of his career. He already knew who would take his place and this man would certainly have no pity and no will to save Dean. In a few months Frank would be retired and he wanted to leave with this special victory. Those broken destinies…
Someone knocked on the door: the clerk opened it and let a cop enter the room, followed by a young man with his T-shirt full of blood, his jeans and sneakers way too used.
"Thank you Sergeant you can go." Frank said.
"Are you sure sir?" he asked worried.
"Take his handcuffs off and wait outside please."
The cop scowled as he gave a suspicious look at Dean who was staring the attorney without any emotion on his face and he took his handcuffs off before leaving the office.
"Sit down Dean."
He did so, not because he asked him but because he was very tired and in pain. Frank saw it on his face too: wounded eyebrows and lips again. He looked at his bandaged hands:
"Did they call the nurse in charge?" asked Frank.
"Not necessary." Dean said in a hoarse, far and indifferent tone.
"Why Dean? I've found you a nice job, Matt was satisfied with your work and it seems you liked it."
"It wasn't my thing I guess."
"You prefer being locked on that damned cage?" Frank asked angry.
"I do what I want, it's my damned life!" he growled.
"You call that a life? There are other solutions to grieve than punching human beings."
"They are no human beings to me". Dean stated. "This cage is like freedom to me."
"Dean…" Frank whispered.
"Don't try to save what can't be saved sir. Take care about the others who want to be."
"I've never stopped trying Dean, and I haven't waited for you to do it."
"Well you haven't been very efficient then Sir."
Dean touched his sore lips. Frank breathed heavily before getting up and opening the door.
"Get me some first aid kit and pain killers please!" He asked to the cop outside who hesitated a few seconds.
"Now!" He ordered.
"Alright Sir." The cop said taking a look inside the office to see Dean still staring at his hands.
Frank closed the door, his back turned to Dean.
"You can't go on like this, you're going straight to the wall".
"Why the hell would you care?" Dean whispered.
"There are people worrying for you, you know? And I'm one of them whether you like it or not." He turned is back to face him.
"I won't let you down you hear me? Never. I'm not letting your past stealing your whole life. You're young Dean, you still have a future."
"A life? A future?" he repeated almost screaming. "Leave me alone I don't give a damn about your pity. Get the hell off my back!"
Frank stepped forward. "Who's talking about pity? You think you're the only one who suffered? Who lost a loved one? Do you want me to show you some of my cases? You want me to show you misery? You want me to prove that you can actually succeed if you fight for it?"
"I don't care about others you hear me? I-DON'T-CARE!" he yelled standing up. "It is MY life, MY hell, it was MY brother, everybody else can die, I don't want to succeed and get a new life you still haven't understood that?" he finally let it out loud.
Their looks met, Dean was almost crying but he was keeping it inside as strong as he could, too proud to let go. He sat down scowling.
There was a knock on the door and the cop entered right after with his gun in his hand.
"Get that thing back where you found it you idiot!" Where do you think you are? Fort Alamo?" Frank shouted.
"I heard screaming I thought…" the cop said sheepishly.
"Where is the first aid kit?" asked Frank.
The cop took it outside and gave the white case to him. "Get out now." Frank ordered. He came closer to Dean who was lost in his silence. When Frank took his hands he tensed.
"Calm down I'm just going to take those bandages off and clean your wounds that's all."
Dean let go and as Frank was doing what he promised, he observed Dean's hands. He had screwy fingers witnessing the load of fractures he had, most of the time not healed. Frank cleaned the wounds with alcohol but Dean never showed any pain.
"Why are you doing this?" He asked almost whispering.
"I'm not doing this only for you, you know?" Their eyes met and Dean gave him a weak smile.
"You should know by now I'm a lost cause."
"There is no such thing as lost cause… or I would have chosen another job."
"If you say so…" Dean closed his eyes accepting the care he was receiving, and it was not usual for him. The only man he was accepting care from was Gaby, but here he was, too tired to even react or complain. The shouts consumed him.
They were both silent the time Frank cleaned his wounds and contusions. He was smiling at his own image… If his coworkers could see him here, taking care of a prisoner they would think he's crazy. It wasn't a thing an attorney was supposed to do but he didn't care at that moment. He really wanted to save this man. It was worth it he was sure about that. Suddenly he remembered his ex-wife's phone call…
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
"Jody?"
"hey Frank !"
"What's the occasion?" he smiled, elbows on his desk. He looked at the clock on the wall: 9.45 pm…
"I see you're still in your office." She said. He could feel in her voice she was almost blaming. His work was a source for a lot of happiness but it also caused him his marriage. It took too much place and caused a divorce after 14 years of marriage. She was too tired to deal with it and left. He couldn't blame her after all.
Jody worked for the Social Services with the Police, this is how they met. Frank was 15 years older than her, but they had a common passion: the human soul. She was saving souls and he was saving lives. She knew a lot of people thanks to her job and she never hesitated to help the attorneys when they needed a hand to save a broken soul. Reintegration was very important to both of them, they were animated by the same will to give hop to people.
A lot of Frank "clients" did reintegration sessions in the Social Services centers. Some of them even managed to find a long term job there, and he was very proud when this happened. It was poorly paid but it was the price to pay to start a new life, and it was a good opportunity for Social Services because they really needed more people to work there.
"Jody?" He finally said.
"I've read your message Frank…" He scowled, "the one you left last month. I've read his file."
There was a long silence then Jody said:
"If you want I may have something for you: A six month's placement in St Gerry Hall."
"The psychiatric Hospital?"
"I think it's the perfect place for him after his past life." Frank heard her searching papers at the other side of the phone. "It's a place full of lost souls, maybe it's the opportunity for him to see his own life from a new perspective."
"If only you were right!" Frank hoped.
"Is it that bad?" Jody worried a little. "Frank you have to tell me if it's not worth it, I don't want any problem with Mary she trusts me. Don't make me regret this."
"No don't worry, I'll let you know. Thanks Jody… Thanks a lot."
"You're welcome. I know you care about that young man… You know you can't save everybody right Frank?"
He sighed. "Yeah I know. But he's… different. You understand ?"
"I do. Let me know if it's ok then, but don't be too long I have a lot of Franks harassing me" She smiled and Frank knew it even through the phone.
"Yes but I'm your one and only Frank anyway."
"True. You are. Bye Frank, you should go home now."
"I was about to leave when you called actually." He lied.
"Yeah right." She laughed. "Goodnight Frank."
"Goodnight Jody. And thank you again, for everything."
Frank didn't wait too long before Dean was arrested again two days later for another "Cage fight". This cage was only Dean's own prison's reflect, the one he built in his head and from which he never wanted to go out.
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Frank stood up using his desk to help him, his legs were sore after staying in that position to clean Dean's wounds.
"Thank you" Dean said shyly.
"For the other injuries…" Deveraux said and Dean looked at him, "I'll ask they take you to St James' ER."
"Not necessary."
"I'm not asking for your permission. You're currently under the State's responsibility… and so under MY responsibility. You're going to St James whether you like it or not." He went to sit behind his desk letting the first aid kit on the ground. "You want pain killers?"
"No."
Frank took the file on his left. "let me make a proposition to you."
Dean sighed "Again!"
"Wait before you whine ok?"
"I don't need a job. I'm all good by myself."
"Right I can see that" Frank said sarcastically.
"I earn more with one fight than you working whole month."
"… when you win."
"I win often enough to live at least."
Frank sank into his chair. "I'll be retired in a few months and you'll have a not so nice attorney in front of you then. He will throw you in prisons way less friendly, you can't even understand what the hell it is before you went."
"I'll get through it. I know how to defend myself and I know hell better than you do."
"Does it mean you want to live in it again?"
Dean's face froze and for the first time since he knew him, Frank saw the fear on it for a few second. He knew that his words touched him.
"So here is the proposition…" Dean scowled but let Frank continue "I found a six months placement for you. It's paid a minimum."
"Great."
"Have you ever heard of St Gerry Hall?" Frank asked ignoring his sarcastic tone.
Dean shook his head to say no.
"It's a psychiatric hospital for poor souls in north town."
"Poor souls?" asked Dean.
"People who nobody care about, with no family, no money, no social protection..."
"Some place to die then?"
Frank glared at him "The staff there is doing his best to help them but they have no resources and survive only thanks to these people's generosity and some rich donors."
"And?"
"And? …" repeated Frank.
"What do you want me to do in a place like that? I have no degree and no experience to work with crazy people."
"They are not crazy" Frank said raisin his tone.
"It is a psychiatric hospital… it would surprise me if they were sane" Dean justified.
"What do you think?" asked Frank to help Dean stay focus on his matter.
"I don't think anything but I have the feeling I don't have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
Dean looked at his fingers and asked "When is that crappy thing supposed to start?"
Frank smiled. "I just have one phone call to make."
"It's Tuesday. Let me till next Monday."
"Why?"
"I'm just asking as a favor."
Frank bent on his desk "Are you planning more fights? I hope you're kidding me."
"Who's talking about fighting?"
"Don't think I'm that stupid kiddo." Frank stood up. "I'm calling St Gerry this afternoon and you'll be there early tomorrow morning."
Dean scowled full of rage.
"And don't use that behavior with me it won't work."
"Next Monday." Dean affirmed again.
"Tomorrow!" Frank shouted.
"I will do whatever I want even in a place like that anyway."
Frank got around his desk furious. Dean never saw him like this with a huge vein popping out his forehead.
"You listen to me Dean Winchester: This is your last chance. If you don't take it you'll end up locked in a cage way more terrifying than the one you love to wallow so much! I don't want anybody to call me one day announcing me you're dead; you understand that, you idiot? Prison will be death for you, and not the one you wish for, the one you flee from!" Frank yelled. "Stop destroying yourself like that damn it! You did nothing wrong Dean, you hear me? You have nothing to be blamed for! Don't let him win!"
"He's already won." Dean said tears in his eyes.
"No Dean, you-are-alive!"
"Yeah for Sam, only for him and his stupid promise." A tear run down his cheek.
"Bullshit! This is only an excuse. You're alive because you want to be." Frank looked at him tenderly. "Life hasn't ended yesterday, Dean. It's going on but you forgot to walk through it.
"Why don't you leave me alone?"
"Because I'm a pain in the ass."
Dean sat back down avoiding a laugh. "Alright… The sooner I start the sooner I'll be done with it."
"Promise me one thing."
Dean froze. "I don't promise anymore."
"Can I hope you'll stop all of this?" Frank asked pointing Dean's hands.
"Consider yourself lucky I'm doing your stupid placement already."
Frank sighed. "At least try to not get caught next time. And take care of yourself."
Dean looked at him a long time and get up. "Can I go?"
"Sign this first." Frank opened the file.
"What is it?"
"Your contract with St Gerry Hall."
"What is I don't like it or they don't like me?"
"I would try to end it the friendly way I guess."
Dean took the pen Frank was handing to him and read the contract.
Thirty hours a week, weekend included. There were no specific details about the work he would do but it didn't bother him. He's made a lot of things already, even cleaning toilets. It couldn't be worse. He signed and gave the pen back.
"Happy?"
"For you yes."
"So can I go now?"
"Sergeant will take you to St James and then back to the police station so you can get your stuff back. Then you'll be free to go… except if you break your contract without any warning, or if you don't get to your work place in time for the next six months."
"What would happen then?"
"We would meet again and you wouldn't like it."
Dean sighed deeply "Fine."
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Dean went to the ER to have some exam done. It showed a broken rib. Except prescribe pain killers and some rest, doctors could not do anything more.
The sergeant drove him back to the station without a word. He made him sign some papers and gave him his stuff back: a wallet with 105$ in it, some coins, and his room and car keys. The only valuable thing he had was from his uncle Bobby, when he died a few years ago. Bobby knew how much Dean loved this car and he also knew he would take care of it more than his own life.
Uncle bobby… The only person who was always nice to him and his brother, but he lived so far away. He never knew… or if he did it was too late. Maybe this is what killed him after all.
Dean didn't sleep that night. Deveraux gave him the name and address of the St Gerry Hall Director. He had to be in her office early in the morning. He was kind of scared of the idea to be locked with crazy people. Or maybe he was scared to feel at home and to share their craziness. He got up and had a glass of whisky. He looked at the window, the street was empty. He made a face when alcohol touched his sore lips.
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
He parked the Impala right in front of St Gerry's front gate. The first thing Dean noticed was the building. He expected some high grey walls but he found a huge mansion at the end of a big well maintained garden. And even if from where he stood he could see the bars at the windows he couldn't help but smile. On the side of the mansion he could see some private rooms. He got out of the car, approached the big front gate and ringed.
"Yes?" A male voice came out.
"I'm Dean Winchester, I have an appointment with Mary Campbell."
"One moment please."
Dean took another look around him.
In a window of the third floor. A man with a very pale face, he looked like he was sick, his forehead leaning against the window.
The gate opened, Dean went down the alley in his car until he reached the main yard. The gate closed behind him.
The man hit his forehead in rhythm against the window.
"Castiel you're going to hurt yourself sweetheart. Stop it." The nurse said.
End of chapter I
copyright2013
Please don't hesitate to leave a review, don't hesitate to use this fic to talk and to share opinions.
It's here for people to think, and to make people understand.
It's here for all the victims, to bring them out of the silence they're locked in.
I wrote it to let them know they're not alone.
People need to know, and they eventually need to help, to hold their hands out and to break the taboo.
I will feel content and I'll think I succeeded the challenge only if readers are touched by the story and by the characters.
They are the voice of the speechless victims.
Thank you
