Not My Insane Dream
"No, no I can't listen to this." I breathed defeated. He advanced toward me, a confused look on his face. He pleadingly looked in my eyes, asking for answers to an unspoken question. I had to look away. I couldn't bring his innocence into my horrid past. It made him look like a lost puppy. His innocence actually sent a physical ache to my heart. How did I end up with him? He was almost too good to be true. I saw myself as an emotional wreck. A monster. And he was just… perfect.
Sam's obliviousness just made the insecurity of myself deepen. It made me think that he didn't even consider possibilities of the worst-case scenario, whereas I think of that in every situation everyday. I guess you could say better safe than sorry. It shows he doesn't exactly have anything to worry about. His life is pitch perfect. No agonizing, poisonous thoughts of insanity. It only made me realize even more, how alone I really was.
I completely turned my back to him. No, I wouldn't break in front of him. We started out fine for the night, until my damned thoughts and doubts. I couldn't tell him what I thought. What I've endured. Why I am the way I am. I stared through the blinds of the window, into the moonlight. I wished I had dissolves in its luminescent glow, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. How did he ever end up with someone as pathetic as me?
"What?" I heard him say behind me. I turned to face him again, crystal tears pooling into the rims of my eyes. I hadn't realized I said that out loud. A tear glided down my cheek as I repeated myself, barely raising my voice higher than a whisper.
He stared at me dumbfounded. He took a few steps toward me, arms open for indirect comfort. A solitary confinement for tears to be shed. In his arms.
"What are you talking about? I love y-"
I immediately retreated a step back. More like jumped a step back, to keep him from finishing his thought. I kept an arm's length apart from us, giving the cautious gesture to him. Any sudden contact of him would snap me in half.
"We both know I'm not good enough for you," I chuckled half-heartedly. Sam gave me an expression of utter shock and horror in his defense.
"What?! What are you talking about-?
"You know, what I'm talking about." I spoke over him. Realization began to hit him.
"You mean-?"
My sharp gaze sliced his remaining thought from his mind. I balled my hands into fists as he stared hard at me. I didn't hold for long under his penetrative gaze. I blinked twice and looked away. I regained my thoughts, and proceeded. Even advancing a few steps toward him for emphasis.
"We both know what is wrong with me. I'm insane. I'm depressed. I'm afraid of everything."
His jaw clenched and unclenched, his fists balled as well. His nails chipped away at the skin of his finger in brace for what was coming. I raised my volume several notches higher, throwing everything out there in the open.
"I'm fat! I'm ugly, I'm pathetic, I'm worthless, I'm selfish, I'm irritating, I'm-"
"Stop! You stop right there!"
I didn't want to hear his protests. I just wanted him to hear that. What's been going on in my head about myself. I dashed past him towards the bathroom, dodging his attempt to pull me toward shim. I shut the door behind me and locked it. The young Winchester immediately began pounding on the door, pleading for entrance. His voice was laced with fear. It was so compelling that I literally had to grip onto something to refrain myself from opening the door and letting him in, falling into his arms. I wanted him to save me from this. Save me from myself. Sure, he protected me from vampires, werewolves, and the works. Always being there to save me, somehow. But I don't think he could save me from this. Not this time.
He vowed and commanded not to do anything stupid. I leaned over the sink, hyperventilating, heaving oxygen. I couldn't get enough into my system. I felt my airways clamp and tighten. Sweat beads began to form on my forehead as I dug my nails into the counter. I fumbled in the mirror cabinet for my anxiety pills.
Shit.
I found an empty orange bottle instead.
I threw it across the bathroom in frustration. The shallow plastic thumped against the porcelain. Sam called my name worriedly from the otherside of the door. The sound of his voice slashed through my thoughts and eardrums like a flaming sword. Too much concern in his voice for me. I ran my shaky hands through my hair, anxiety bubbling my bloodstream and clouding my vision.
A thought crossed my brain.
No. My body tried to restrain itself.
Too late. I hurried over to the shower and found my razor. I took out the blade and leaned my back against the west wall. My mind shouted and protested. Sam's voice was long gone, considering he gave up. I pressed the tip of the blade to the skin of my wrist, and all noise silenced. Even the water dripping off of the faucet seized. The only sound that was heard was the sound of the blade slicing open the fabric of my skin. One after the other. It felt I was doing more at a time, and faster than I really was. My dizzy, disoriented vision made me hallucinate that U cut my vein right out, and watched it physically on the tile floor. But in reality, I was slower and calmer. Reality wasn't a relevant factor at the moment.
I didn't sob nor wail like usual, but helplessly let the tears fall and drip off of my chin as the anxiety attack racked my body. My final thread had been snipped clean by my insanity's scissors.
A good half hour later, there were 6 gashes clean across my skin, each about 4 inches long. The blood had dribbled down from one cut, into the other, the others following suit in various places. I threw the blade across the bathroom as well, blood splattering all over the floor. The loud clatter ripped through my creeping migraine and irritated my sudden wave of exhaustion. I slid down the cool wall, icing my flaming back and wept more.
I didn't bother to clean up my mess, but only wounds. I stripped out of my clothes, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor, left in my black tanktop and panties. I found one of Sam's plaid shirts and slipped it on, the long sleeves covering the red scars. The loose threads nipped and pulled at the raw, exposed flesh. I vigorously brushed my teeth, and brightened my expression before proceeding out.
I exited the bathroom to see Sam, groggily reading a book in bed, trying to stay away. He looked up to see me, and startingly closed his book. He wiped the sleep away from his eyes and watched me.
"Hey," he said. I smiled lazily and feigned ignorance as I slid into bed next to him. I had to make sure he thought everything was fine. I hated lying to him, but I had to dismiss the earlier episode from his brain. He invitingly spread his arm out across the headboard and I snuggled closer. His arm came to rest on my back, and my head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat, and drifting off to his steady breathing.
"Did you have another attack?" he whispered in my ear. Tears brimmed my eyelashes as I nodded subtly. It was much worse than that. I couldn't lift the heavy weight of my head t look up at him. A tear dripped off of my nose and absorbed in the white fabric of his shirt. He must have felt it because I soon felt him snake a hooked finger under my chin and forced me to look at him. His eyes read concern as his emerald forests of green fused sorrow. My lip quivered, but I bit it back. He noticed this and gave me a stare to ask, "Are you alright now?" It felt different than asking out loud.
My hands were clutched to my chest, so when Sam lifted my head. They were in plain view. I even caught him glance down. I did as well, and as I started to cover the one scar hanging out, he retrieved my wrist.
I rested my head back down in humiliation as his cool fingers rolled my sleeve up. I bit my lip again to keep it from quivering as my fresh scars came into view. I blinked away tears and listened to any change in the ongoing silence as his brain reacted first-hand. He'd heard stories of this but now he's experienced the real brandings firsthand. Why I hide myself in the dark before the true exposed person would face the judgmental eyes of humiliation. Before he found out that I'm the outcast that battles so much hate for herself with her own self.
He didn't say anything but only sat up, and met my gaze. His eyes were puffy and red, and glistening with tears. I immediately felt guilt sting my heart. He leaned down and pursed his soft lips against the first scar. I had to hold my hand to my mouth to stifle a sob. All I could do was whimper. He planted kisses on every inch if each scar, tears trickling down his cheeks as he did.
The sight was heartbreaking. How could I do this to him? To us? I really am selfish,
After he kissed each scar, he traced them lovingly with his thumb, trying to heal the empty pain that broke and shattered my very soul. To try and erase the memories of my past so they could never harm or drain me of my essence again.
He then drew in air with a shaky breath, and met my eyes. Both hands on either side of my head, not letting my eyes leave his to prove his sincerity. I couldn't help but squirm under his beautiful gaze. I'm so damn awkward. I can't match up to him. I don't deserve him.
"You are a courageous, witty, strong, beautiful woman, and I love everything about you. You are perfect to me. Not fat, pathetic, nothing like that. Just stunningly perfect, and I am here to protect and shield you form the horrid unmentionables hewn in your brain. I will push them away with everything in my power. I am here for you, and only you. I love you."
I smiled with more tears in my eyes. I let out a soft empty chuckle as I rested my hands on his. I pulled him closer to me by his shirt, and pushed my lips hard against his pillowy ones, not wanting to let go. His lips slowly massaged against mine, winging me to oblivion blissfully like butterfly wings. I moaned helplessly into his lips and he framed his large hands around my neck more firmly. He was real, and physically here with me. A wave of relief washed over me. What was worrying about? He's mine, and always will be. Hopefully, I'll forever be with him. We'll die and rebirth together.
His hands still gripping my neck, holding it in place brought me as close as possible. I pulled away for what seemed like an eternity and a mere instant. His eyes were passionately blown with pure love. The tears wouldn't stop now, one after the other. He brushed the, away with a feather-light touch. My lips were bruised a blood red from the ferocity of the kiss.
"I love you. So much. Please don't leave me, I don't ever want to lose you," I murmured pleadingly positioning myself to straddle his waist. He chuckled voicelessly as best as he could through the tears and caressed my back as he laid us both down on the bed.
"Never, baby." He whispered as he nuzzled his face into my neck. I ran my hands through his luscious locks, twirling the long strands between my fingers lovingly.
I kept repeating apologies like a mantra, a prayer. Such a delicate whisper could never hold such sincerity. The word would've snap in half had it been a physical thing.
Showering in the promising love of my Sammy, I felt the holes impaled through my soul slowly heal. In the exotic haze, I might have almost imagined the scars healing. Maybe not physically, but let's say they were just mere marks now. No demons sewn under them; the stories they told of insecurity and insanity vanished. And it was all because of him. He lifted that burden off of me with a mere touch of his lips that spread the rapture of his love radiating throughout my being.
All I ever wanted was his acceptance.
Yet I had it all along.
That was all that I needed.
I was free.