Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this new fic I have planned. Be warned, this fic will feature suicide and self harm throughout. Proceed with caution if this affects you!
"Sam! Sam!"
Sam opened his eyes to find the room consumed by flames, his girlfriend, Jessica, shaking him desperately. It was happening again. No, it couldn't be. He'd dreamt this would happen, it came to him in his nightmares. The room burning, Jess eaten up by the fire. He thought it was just throwbacks to then, mixing with the present to form a horrifying nightmare. But it was happening, right now. Maybe he could stop it all from coming true.
He grabbed her and pulled her from the room, but once he was out of the room, she wasn't there. She was trapped. The door was open, there was nothing in her way, but she couldn't get out.
"Sam, don't leave me, please!" Jess cried, and he tried with all his strength to get her out, but then she was pulled away from him, thrown and pinned to the wall. It was happening again. After fourteen years it was happening again. No, no, not now. Not her. Not again.
He ran back into the room, the invisible barrier apparently permeable to him, trying to catch her and get her to safety, but a wild flame hit him straight in the face, sending him to the floor. It was too late anyway. She was already burning, already screaming, her nightdress alight.
"Sam!" she screamed, but he could do nothing. She was dragged to the ceiling and burst into flames completely, and Sam could only watch, screaming himself.
He woke up in hospital, a patch on his face covering a burn, as well as large burns on his leg and chest, handcuffed to the bed and a cop outside his room. His doctor was there, Dr Gould, the one who'd seen him when he was eight years old, the first time. And he didn't look happy to see him.
"I'd hoped we wouldn't see each other like this, Sam," he said solemnly. He looked disappointed. Were shrinks even meant to look that way? Who knows. Sam knew there was no point in trying to defend himself, they didn't believe him when he was a kid, they wouldn't believe him now. But he could certainly try.
"It wasn't me," he said firmly, but his hysteria grew, "It wasn't. I couldn't get her out…something was stopping her from getting out, she was pinned to the ceiling! I couldn't get her out, I couldn't get her out. Jess!"
"Sam, Sam," Dr Gould put his hand on Sam's shoulder, "Remember the breathing I taught you?"
"You don't believe me, no one believes me," Sam pushed him away in frustration, "You want to lock me up again!"
"I don't want to, Sam, you know I don't. But we have no choice. You're not well, Sam. We thought you had recovered from the first incident. You were doing so well. But it's happened again and we can't give you another chance, we can't risk more getting killed or hurt," the older man shook his head, "I'm sorry."
"I didn't kill her! I didn't! Something else started the fire! I woke up and it was already there! I'm not lying!" Sam cried desperately, "Don't take me back there!"
"You were found unconscious with a lighter in your hand, Sam, there was a knife on the floor. The autopsy on your girlfriend showed she had a laceration across her stomach," Dr Gould sighed, "It's worse than the first time. A lot worse."
"But I never…I didn't!" Sam begged, "I swear."
"They found something else," Dr Gould ran a hand through his hair, "Jessica was pregnant."
"W-what?" Sam stuttered, the news crushing him with unbearable weight, "I didn't…I didn't…you think…"
"I don't know what to think, Sam. I really don't," Dr. Gould said, "I thought you were better. You'd adjusted so well to your foster home, hell, you made it into Stanford University! You were my best success story. And now here we are."
"I would never kill Jess, just like I'd never kill him!" Sam protested, "I loved her! I was going to…I was going to propose today."
He looked at the pile of stuff they'd managed to save from the fire, his chest clenching at the sight of the ring box among the items.
"And now she's dead. Did you get scared when she told you? Scared your child would be like you?" the doctor pressed, "Did your fear take over?"
"I didn't know! I swear I didn't know!" Sam was crying now, "She hadn't told me…God, she hadn't told me yet…"
Dr Gould deemed Sam unfit to stand trial, leaving him doomed to a psychiatric hospital for the rest of his life. Before he was transferred, Jessica's parents visited him. He could barely look at them, he was as heartbroken as they were but of course they wouldn't see it that way. In their eyes, he was their daughter's killer. How could be possibly be hurting as much as them?
"Why, Sam?" Jess' mother was crying, "Why her? We thought you loved her, you were both so happy."
"I didn't do it, I swear. You have to believe me!" Sam looked at them, begging, "I loved her! I'd never hurt her!"
"We liked you, Sam. We thought you were so polite, so good for Jess. She thought the world of you!" Jess' father shook his head, tearful, "And to think you even asked me for her hand in marriage."
"He what?" Jess' mother said in disbelief, "You…you're a monster! You're sick, you're sick in the head!"
She shook him violently, in hysterics, "Why?! Why would you kill her?!"
Sam cried helplessly, "I didn't! I promise I didn't!"
Jess' father pulled his wife away gently, pulling her to his chest, "She didn't deserve this. And to think you…your own child."
"She didn't deserve it. I wish I could have protected her, stopped this all from happening. I didn't do it, I didn't do it," Sam looked up at them in desperation, "I'd never hurt my Jess."
"Don't you dare call her yours!" Jess' mother snapped, "She should have stayed well away from you!"
They left not long after that, and Sam of course got absolutely nowhere in trying to convince them. He felt helpless, he had no one left. He only had Jess, and their friends, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't want anything to do with him now. He was on his own in this once again.
Jess' parents weren't happy, in fact they criticised every single person involved in the decision to let Sam be fostered, and allow him to go to Stanford without at least some supervision. But everyone who had worked Sam's case was baffled, he'd recovered so well, and his assessments every year never showed any areas of concern. Something in him had just snapped, they concluded. No one could have known. But he was happy at Stanford. He told them so. He felt he belonged somewhere for the first time in his life, he wasn't judged, he was able to study anything he wanted and he could finally be completely free to live like everyone else. They were saddened. Things had been going great for Sam Winchester, what went wrong?
The journey to the psychiatric hospital was long, way too long. He watched his old life, his good life slip away. He wasn't even allowed to attend Jessica's funeral. Sam just wanted to say goodbye, he just wanted to tell her how sorry he was that it turned out this way. He wanted her to know it wasn't him, he didn't know who or what it was, but he didn't do it. He'd never hurt her.
Sam hoped the car would never arrive, he hoped they'd just keep driving. Maybe they'd take a wrong turn and end up off a cliff. Maybe an animal would run into the road and they'd drive into a tree. He could take control of the car and swerve it off the road, but if he survived they'd only lock him up even quicker. It was no use, this was his life now.
His room was far worse than his room at the first hospital. At least the first one was a children's psychiatric unit, it had some colour and a little more warmth. This room was overwhelmingly clinical, all white, cold and unwelcoming. Better start getting used to it. He changed into what would be his permanent attire, white scrubs, reluctantly. At least he matched the theme of the room now. He was left alone and locked in, leaving him to lie down on his bed and cry away the pain. This was it now. No future, no chance of getting out, even with good behaviour. No more Jessica, no more law school. He was meant to have that Stanford Law interview, Sam wondered what they told them. It was all gone. No hope. What was the point of living anymore, what could possibly be done in this place to make his life worthwhile? He wished he'd been swallowed up by the fire instead of Jess. At least she could find someone else, someone better, and live life just like she deserved it.
Sam missed her. He missed Jess more than anything. He'd miss waking up beside her every morning, cuddling her close to him. He'd miss coming back to find a plate of freshly baked cookies on the kitchen table, he'd miss her laugh, her smile, the way she looked at him. He'd miss their date nights, their trips to the movies, their vacations to Disneyland and her parents' holiday home. She was gone now. No more happiness, no more future.
They let him settle and get some rest, but he couldn't sleep. He laid awake, that night replaying over again. Both nights. Both nights were morphing into one another. His screams, her screams. They tormented his mind, leaving him curled in a ball under his sheets, covering his ears desperately to block out the sound to no avail. The memories plagued him ever since the first night, still as vivid as ever, even fourteen years on. But now it was worse, now there were more memories. Memories of Jess going through the same fate.
"Good morning, Sam," a male doctor, similar looking to Dr Gould, "I'm Dr Gray. I'll be overseeing your treatment and monitoring your progress."
Sam said nothing, he was laid on his side, his back to him.
"Sam?"
Nothing.
"Sam, we want you to start counselling again," Dr Gray moved so he could see him, "It helped you last time, I was told. We'll see where we go from there."
Sam avoided his gaze, staring at the floor.
"Now, Sam, you can't stay quiet like this," the doctor sighed in exasperation, "Do you want to get better?"
Get better? There was nothing to get better from. He wasn't crazy, just no one believed what he saw. What was the point? Everything he'd say would be twisted to be considered insane. He could recover completely in their eyes and yet he'd still never leave this place. As far as they saw, he murdered his girlfriend in a brutal manner. He was never getting out. He'd never know freedom again.
Dr Gray left him alone after getting nowhere, only for Sam to be disturbed later when he was given his meds. Or, they tried to give him his meds. He completely refused, turning his head away, still not uttering a word. Until they forced them into him, taking him by surprise so he almost choked. Sam coughed and tried to fight the nurse and his back up off, but they were done. He'd taken his meds, mission accomplished.
It wasn't too long after his meds were forced down his throat that he started to feel strange. He couldn't move, not easily anyway, his arms were stuck and shaking uncontrollably. Sam felt frozen, helpless, he couldn't escape his curled up position, not without difficulty. He was hitting himself, not voluntarily, he just couldn't stop the shaking in his hands. How could he live like this? How could anyone expect anyone to live this this? He was left to rot in this place, and he wasn't even allowed to feel at least a little normal. He had to get out.
Uncomfortable, struggling to change position and unable to sleep, Sam stayed where he was for hours, until the effects slowly wore off and he could move again with much more ease. He'd been left food just an hour ago, but he wouldn't touch it. He didn't see the point in much anymore.
"Sam?" Dr Gray entered his room again. Could he catch a break? He was only just starting to feel a little normal again. As usual, he gave no answer.
"Sam, I think you should join me in going to group," he said calmly, "Many of our residents find it helpful to share their feelings with others."
Sam didn't move. He wasn't going anywhere, he didn't want to go anywhere near the other residents. He didn't belong among them, the genuine murderers, the real criminally insane. He didn't need them judging him, targeting him. Memories of the child psych ward still haunted him. The bullying, the shoving, the hitting. One of the kids managed the incredible feat of finding Sam's file, telling everyone about that night. He got pushed to the limit, to the extent that he lashed out and broke the ringleader's nose. He was put in isolation for a week, and he never did it again. If it was bad there, it would be worse here.
"You need to be more cooperative," Dr Gray said disapprovingly, "C'mon. You might like some change of scenery."
"No," Sam finally spoke.
"No?" Dr Gray sighed, "Sam, group is going to start soon. Let's just get out of bed and go. You might enjoy it."
"No," Sam was getting more agitated.
Dr Gray left the room, to Sam's relief. Maybe he finally got the message. That was, until, security came into the room to try and escort him. Something in Sam really did snap this time. He didn't know what came over him. In a burst of rage he fought against them, punching one in the face and shoving the other away. The first guard's nose was bleeding. Had he broken someone's nose again? Way to leave a trademark. Mess with Sam Winchester, leave with a free broken nose.
He was wrestled to the ground before being forced back onto his bed and restrained. He was sedated and left to calm down. Guess he wouldn't be going to group today.
Numb, afraid of his own actions and seeming to be finally able to get some sleep, Sam slowly closed his eyes and waited to lose consciousness.
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