TRIGGERS: Suicide. Forcing somebody to take drugs.
You're alive.
When you open your eyes, everything is dark. Are you blind? You don't know. When you open your mouth, cold water rushes down your throat. It burns. Burns like hellfire licking at your wings. You don't have wings. You think you used to. You see yourself flying. You feel the wind in your face. You used to. You realise that you're drowning. You're going to die. You deserve it. You think you deserve to die. You think about just letting go, letting the water fill your lungs. Nobody will care about the man with no name. Not the man with the green eyes or the man who could forgive everybody else but himself. You try to swim but you can't. You're stuck. Water fills your throat and you lose consciousness.
You wake up. Everything is white. You think you are in Heaven but Heaven is not purely white. It is a full spectrum of colours, from gold to blue to silver. You are relieved. You are not dead.
You think that if you were dead, you would go to Hell. Hell: the place or torment and sorrow and everlasting destruction. You don't know why you believe you would go to Hell but you know you probably would.
A man with green eyes enters. They are the wrong shade of green but you cannot control the wrecked sob that escapes your throat as you stare at him. He says his name is John. He will be your "healer". The one who will try to help you remember. He pulls out a small bottle, takes off the top and pulls out two small capsules. He tries to hand them to you. He says they will help. You say you don't want them. You briefly remember somebody telling you not to change. Not to take anything. He looks at you with something akin to shock. He grabs your hand and drops them in. He says to take them or he will make you take them.
When you tell him that you will not take them, he grabs your chin and forces open your mouth. You try to get away but he drops the capsules onto your tongue. He closes your mouth. You struggle. You try to take his hand away from your mouth. You can't breathe so you are forced to swallow. When he sees that you have taken the medication, he lets go of you.
After he has gone, you curl up on your bed and cry yourself to sleep. You hope that somebody saves you from this Hell.
You've been here months. You still have faith that somebody will come for you. You don't know who but you still believe that somebody cares. At night, you think you hear somebodies voice. It sounds almost like a prayer: "Cas, please… be alive."
You've been here a year and still nobody has saved you. You lost faith that anybody would months ago but you couldn't help but distantly hope. Maybe, just maybe, one day somebody would save you.
You remember more these days. You remember two men, brothers, who were your friends. You think they were your friends but they weren't there when you needed them. They still aren't.
You've found a way to save yourself. You are going to die. If you are dead, nothing can hurt you. You hope you don't go to Hell but you know you probably will. Suicide is a sin but you have done a lot worse than that.
Besides, you have nothing to live for. No green eyed man. No selfless man who can't forgive his own mistakes. You are being pumped with drugs every day. The men in the white uniforms say they help but they don't. You still hurt. The memories hurt the most.
You tie your bed sheets in a knot and fasten them to the broken fan on your ceiling. You pull your bed stool over so it rests under the sheets. As you climb onto the stool, you wrap the sheets around your neck. A tear falls onto your hand as you finish with the makeshift rope.
Your door slams open but you don't care. The last thing you see is the panicked green eyes of the man stood in your door, reaching out to you. The eyes are the right shade of green this time. The ones you love but don't know why. The last thing you hear is a pained "Cas" as you step off the stool and you're gone.
You're dead.