A/N: My first story in this fandom. Review please! :)
Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural.
His parents loved him. He was sure of that. After all, parents were supposed to love their children, right? No matter how screwed up the children are. That's why he was sure that his parents did love him.
Sure, they beat him up a little. But that was only because there was wrong with him, not them. It was his fault. Just like his father always said; he was worthless, useless and a sorry excuse for a son. His parents were forced to punish him because of his own faults. It wasn't their fault that he was a screw up. So, he took all the beatings and verbal abuse willingly, without any complaint. Because he knew that he deserved it. All of it. Even the 'special' punishment that his dad had set up for him.
How long had it been since he'd been locked up, anyways? He was starting to feel light headed from lack of food and water. Not that he was allowed to have a lot of food to begin with, but he would usually have the luxury of a toast and half a glass of water after two days. Maybe they were so angry with him now that they didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Maybe they've finally decided he was a lost cause. He wasn't surprised, really. He already knew that he was a hopeless case. No matter what, he could never seem to satisfy them. He always managed to somehow screw up every single thing. It doesn't matter anymore, anyways. Nothing does. He's gonna die down there in that basement, all alone.
Six days. Six long days without food or water or light or anything, really. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake now. Not that he really cared anymore. No, he wasn't even in that room anymore. He was safely in that little corner he had created for himself. The corner that he went to whenever reality became too much for him to handle, whenever his father's 'special' punishments were being dished out to him. That quiet, safe corner in the recess of his mind. He really liked that place. It was the only thing in his life that was all his.
It had been 8 days now –somehow, he still managed to keep count -eight hard days of wishing for it to end soon. Eight days of praying for death- though he knew that he didn't deserve that luxury, not after all he'd done.
It was the 9th day that he heard it. A door. Smashed open so hard that the sound reached him even in his quiet place. Dimly, he realized that it was the back door of the house. A tiny sparkle of hope crept in his mind. Maybe, they had decided that they wanted him after all. Maybe they had come to save him. But, as quickly as that hope had come, it was stomped on by him. After all, who would anything to do with him now? If they were really back, it was probably to check if their plan had worked out or not; whether he was dead like they wanted or not. Guess he couldn't even do that right. He managed to disappoint them again. Story of his life.
A/N: I would love to hear from you guys. Let me know if I should continue or not. Thank you!