These things seriously keep me up at night, so I decided to write a story about it. I've narrowed my college search to two places, one in town and one a couple of hours away. Still not sure which one I'll head to next fall, but this story seriously helped me set things straight in my mind. Thought I'd psot it for the heck of it. Enjoy!
Title: Choices
Summary: He'd been accepted, and he didn't know what to do about it. It had been a joke, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to go. As much as he wanted to go, he wanted to stay. Decisions, decisions...
Disclaimer: The show isn't mine. I'm just borrowing its characters for a bit :)
Choices
Shadows flickered across the ceiling as the young man lay awake in his bed, listening to his brother snoring softly on the other side of the room. He was trying to get to sleep, really, but he found it so difficult. His mind kept wandering, his heart pounding at the rebellious thoughts that the letter he'd received that day had planted in his eighteen-year-old head.
He'd gotten in.
He'd applied as a joke, knowing in his heart that he couldn't leave, couldn't go to the place with the lush green grass and the trees that changed color in the fall and the houses that stayed in the same place all year long. But he'd gotten in. He'd been accepted.
He shuddered at the word, the way it clanged around inside his head, bringing up old memories, memories of a home he'd never known, of a mother who had left in a fiery blaze. Accepted. He'd never really thought about it before, but it was what he'd always wanted. His father hated him, his brother resented him, and he didn't have any friends. Accepted.
He thought back to all the schools, all the towns, all the places they'd been. He'd tried so hard in every new location, tried to plant roots and make friends and be accepted into their little cliques, but it had never worked out for him. Nobody liked him, nobody but his brother, and even his affection had waned in the past few years.
He hated the way he was drifting away form the man he'd been forced to share a room with since the fire, hated the way his brother looked at him, like he was being betrayed.
Their father was worse, though. The look in his eyes, the way he talked, the way he acted. Every movement screamed that he was disappointed in the way his son had turned out. It was easy to see.
So, he lay awake in his bed, watching the shadows play across the ceiling, thinking about his choices. He could go to the school, the one that had opened its arms to him, invited him in, accepted him. Or, he could stay with his family, travel the world, hunt evil, and save people.
Decisions, decisions.
On the one hand, he'd always wanted to try and get out, try and do his own thing. And these people wanted him. Maybe he could make friends, get his own place, have his own identity. He could separate himself from his overbearing family, live his own life, become his own person. He could gain independence, take care of himself, never have to worry about anyone else.
Of course, he'd miss his family, would never know where they were or even if they were safe. Would a call be enough to keep in touch? How much would he miss? Maybe his brother would get a date, make some new friends, realize that he'd been wrong about everything. Maybe they could work things out if given the time. And what about his dad? Wasn't it possible that they could work on mending their relationship?
He rolled over violently, shoving one fist into his pillow. He wanted to stop the thoughts from racing around his mind, wanted to get some sleep, wanted to make a choice. Be accepted, or be a family? Be educated, or be home? Friends, or relatives? It was a choice that he believed no one should ever have to make, yet thousands of teens did every year.
He rolled back over, kicking the covers off, hating that familiar burning that snuck up behind his eyes, the burning that he always fought unless he was alone, that he would never let anyone in his family see. He didn't want to decide. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to stay. How was he supposed to choose, how was he supposed to know that he was making the right decision? It was, after all, going to affect the rest of his life.
Sighing, he laced his fingers together behind his head, staring up at the crumbling ceiling. Really, it wasn't a choice at all. When it came to college or hunting, normal or family, it was easy. He knew what he had to do. Smiling to himself, Dean drifted off to sleep, content to stay in the life fate had found for him.
Well, that's it. What do you think? Good, bad, ugly? Reviews are mucho appreciated (cuz I'm so bilingual!).