Dean felt himself losing his grip…again…he clenched his tearing eyes shut and bit his lower lip between his teeth….he silently willed himself to hold on just a little longer….Sam was in the driver's seat, his stern face set with anger and frustration…Dean couldn't blame him…he had been less than forthcoming to Sam about the disgusting things he had done in Hell…it was enough that Sam knew now that he had enjoyed it…deep down inside, he couldn't help but think that Sam thought him a monster…he was…he didn't deserve salvation…hot tears streamed down his face…he looked away, determined that Sam not see…he swiped his rough palm over his face…he used the last bit of strength he possessed to push the overwhelming darkness and despair looming in him back for just a little longer…
They arrived at the motel...he got out and headed inside, making a bee-line for the bathroom…he heard Sam angrily close the door, but he didn't care….he needed to let the darkness out of him….he had found only one way that even made a dent…Sammy thought he was coping with his Hell experiences by drinking, and to a certain extent, he was right….he did drink heavily as of late…but it was never enough…Dean locked the door…he turned to the mirror…his green eyes glared back at him from the mirror, burning with self-loathing…the tears came again…this time, he let them fall unabated…they streamed down his pallid cheeks like rivulets of rain sliding down the edifice of a heavily weathered, decrepit building…
He felt the darkness swarming...buzzing inside his mind like so many stinging bees…the swarm ebbing and flowing like an ocean tide….his hands trembled terribly….he gripped the sink….letting his eyes shift toward the grime-coated ground briefly before closing them…he drifted out of control…the swarm of memories surged forward….he choked back the urge to vomit, the bile hovering at the entrance of his throat...he shook with silent sobs…his knees weakened too suddenly for him to stop his descent to the floor…he landed hard on the filth-encased tiles, but he barely registered the pain….as he knelt there, he knew he couldn't wait any longer…
He turned his body and let himself sink to the ground with his back to the vanity…with shaking hands, he unzipped his pants and struggled to pull them off…he kicked them viciously away…he eased the leg of his boxers up, revealing the road map of scars and wounds there…the red, angry edges of a few of the wounds were recent enough to still smart at contact from the cloth that usually covered them…Dean stripped off his jacket, reaching into pocket briefly before tossing the jacket into a heap in the corner…he felt the cool touch of the metal and leather in his palm…he gripped it tightly in his quaking hand so as not to drop it…he slid the blade out of the sheath, letting the sheath fall from his limp grasp to the floor…he held the knife up to eye level, gazing at the sharply glimmering blade…
He swallowed hard…the roar of memories in his head almost too much to bear…he gripped the handle in his unsteady hand…he brought the blade to his flesh…hesitating for a single moment before pressing it deep onto his upper thigh and drawing it slowly across, slicing through the skin deeply…he felt the warmth of blood trickling down the outer edge of his thigh to before dripping steadily to the floor…he lifted the knife…slice….more blood flowing…slice…slice…slice…the pain that had come so close to overtaking him was ebbing out of him…each puncture of the knife bringing a little more release…each wound letting the darkness escape from inside him to dissipate in the harsh glare of the too-bright bulbs above the vanity…slice…one more terror drifting away…slice…one more disgusting deed oozing out of him with the trickling rivulet of blood and the whisper soft splash of the drops hitting the dark pool of blood coating the floor beneath his leg…it flowed in the depressions of the grout, creeping slowly across the floor…
Dean felt his eyes drifting closed and he let them…he felt the grip on the knife loosen…he let it fall from his grasp…it clattered to the floor…the intense pressure of his self hate assuaged for now…the relief washed over him…alcohol could never bring him the release that cutting provided…..he felt his body's clenching muscles relax…he let himself lull in the haze of the momentary absence of his internal Hell…it would return…it always did…but for the moment…it didn't matter…nothing mattered…he felt nothing but the release...his secret release… and that would have to do…for now….