Pullover, Washington:
I ran. I ran from my pain, my life, my pain, my school, more pain… you get the point. I stuffed my backpack full of mismatched clothes, endless water, a pocketknife, and an apple. Just in case.
l snuck to the door and slipped out into the night. The moon was waning, just a sliver to guide me. I followed the twisting road until I was out of suburbia, no more houses in sight. Till nothing blocked the stars' light. My little town was surrounded by empty grazing land for the dairy cattle, now asleep against the various degrading fences, so there was no one around to question my motives.
I watched the cows snore peacefully, gratefully acknowledging that they would never have to go through what I did every day. Hell they had it made, laze around all day, eat all the grass they wanted. All they had to do was give milk for the crappy cheese company in town. I walked for what felt like hours, but was in reality no more than thirty minutes, before coming to the Stop N' Fill gas station a couple of miles out of town. I sighed; my bladder had been killing me for the past twenty-nine minutes. Figures. The station didn't appear to be too busy. Only a few cars could be seen parked around back, so I took a deep breath, aimed my eyes at the floor, and shuffled in.
The lights blinded me for a moment, but soon I was able to see the rows of junk food and toothbrushes before me. No customers in sight. I clenched me jaw and zigzagged through the aisles to the back where I assumed the restrooms would be while avoiding the cashier's bored gaze. With my chin tucked down I didn't see the man coming around from another aisle until I hit him.
I was easily knocked on my butt and a little squeal escaped my lips with the last of my air. How embarrassing. Stupid klutz. My face flushed and I tried to avoid eye contact as I jumped up, refusing the aid of his outstretched hand.
"I'm so sorry! You came out of nowhere," he quickly apologized in a familiar voice. I shook my head to clear it, still avoiding his eyes. All I could tell was the guy was massive, at least 6'4", a six pack of beer hung from his left hand. "Hey, you alright?" he added when I didn't respond.
No. No. No. I refused to believe I was insane. The shrink said it would come eventually, if I kept quote: "repressing my innermost emotions" but, I had left all that crap behind when I walked out my front door, I was supposed to be better now! A clean start, that's all I needed.
I couldn't help myself: I looked up at his face. And Sam Winchester stared back down at me, a full foot taller, with that beautiful look of concern.
"Dammit, I have gone crazy!" I shrieked, startling him. I didn't care who heard me.
"Excuse me?"
"You're Sam Winchester, the guy with the demon blood, and I'm Lucy Peyton, the girl who just snapped," I huffed, my terrified eyes wide like saucers. Sam's expression shifted from shocked to confused, then to defensive mode. Crap. I probably shouldn't make the guy mad at me; I probably would be hallucinating about him for the rest of my life.
Before he could respond I shoved past him, dashed down the hall, and burst into the girls' restroom, whirling to lock the door behind me. I slid to the floor and hugged my knees. No. No. No. I refused to go crazy. My head ached as I repeated that phrase fifty times over in my mind-I refuse to go crazy-I refuse to go crazy-I refuse to go crazy-until it was a jumbled mess. Seeing my favorite TV characters was the final straw. I gave up. I shrugged off my backpack and shakily grabbed my pocket knife from the top of the ball of clothing.
Getting shakier I pulled up my sleeves and opened the knife-
Someone knocked on the door.
"Hello?" A gruff voice asked from just outside. Shit, now I was hearing Dean? I paused to listen as he spoke more quietly, obviously speaking to someone else outside. "You sure she went in here?"
"Positive," Sam answered.
"Hey, can you come out for a sec? We need to have a chat," Dean continued and I paled. Now or never. Before my brain could register my movements, I slashed a deep gash in both of my wrists. Crimson blood poured out, staining the white tile floor. What a shame. I gasped as the pain registered and I clutched my arms to my chest.
This was it. I expected my life to flash before my eyes or some crap like that, and when nothing came I was relieved. Didn't want to live through that shit again. My numb fingers released the pocket knife and it clattered to the floor, landing in the blooming rose of blood underneath me.
"Hey, open up!" Sam shouted, hearing the clatter. They banged on the door and the noise rattled in my head like a bouncy ball. Too loud. I had half a mind to tell them to shut up.
But then it all started to fade, the thumping, the light… I felt dizzy.
The door crashed open, splinters raining over me.
"What the hell?"
"Dean, she's bleeding out!"
"No shit Sherlock!"
Their two forms knelt beside me and I pressed my cheek to the cool floor, my body suddenly overheating. Someone grabbed my wrists and held soft cloth to the wounds, pushing hard against the pulsing blood. Sam's face entered my field of vision, his wavy bangs partially shielding his gorgeous hazel eyes.
"Hey, stay awake," he commanded in that gentle voice. The dizziness had turned to exhaustion, and my eyelids were fluttering. Why should I listen? I was so close… I sighed and finally gave in. At least I would die surrounded by my angels. "NO! Wake up!" Something shook me and I groaned. Couldn't they just let me sleep? I was so tired…
"Sammy, help me lift her!"
"Keep pressure on those cuts!"
Their shouts turned into mumbles, which turned to silence, and I was so thankful for the peace of mind that I may have actually smiled.