"Where is your mother?" the policeman asked.
"Out of town," I answered. "She's not home until tomorrow."
"And your father?" he continued.
"He died when I was three."
"Do you have anyone to call?" the nurse beside the man asked. I nodded, reaching my hand out, but whimpered when it stung in my ribs.
The nurse smiled apologetically and handed me the phone beside the bed.
"We'll leave you alone," she said, going out of the room.
"We're all done here, anyway. Someone will call as soon as possible," the police said and I nodded. He glanced at me, then at his partner, and then they left.
I dialed the number without thinking about it, and took a deep breath, ignoring the pain it caused.
I heard my sister's voice sooner than expected.
"Tess," I choked out, but I didn't have the time to say anything else before she started.
"Sophia, where the hell are you? You were supposed to be home like two hours ago. You promised you would look after Rob, and Dave and I have been together for a year! He's supposed to pick me up in ten minutes at my place. Not here. And I'm not even close to done!"
"Tess," I choked again, trying to make her shut up. "Yes, I know I was supposed to take care of Rob. But he's fifteen, and he can be alone for a few hours. And yes, I know you've called like a thousand times."
"Where are you? And if you're not here in ten minutes, you're dead."
"I'm at the hospital," I said, fighting against the sob in my throat.
"What are you doing at the hospital?" she asked, the anger replaced by worry.
"Pick me up, and I'll explain everything. It hurts to walk."
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
I told her where to find me, and then hung up. How was I supposed to tell Tess and Rob about this? I couldn't even think about it myself. All I wanted to do was to take a shower. I felt dirty, and it felt like this dirt would never disappear. But I knew it was all in my head. That didn't help.
Before I had the time to stop myself, I was calling another number.
Don't pick up, don't pick up, don't...
"Tom," shit. "Sykes."
"Tom Sykes. Seriously?" I asked.
"Who is this?"
"Dean..."
I knew that he would hear that there was something wrong, but no way that I would tell him of what just happened. No way. God, why had I called him? Out of all the people I could have called, it had to be the only one who could see through my every move.
"Soph?"
"No, Wanda fucking Sykes. Who do you think it is, stupid?"
"What the hell, Soph?" he asked on the other end, and I felt the tears coming. I hadn't cried yet. Not since it happened. I had been at the hospital for an hour, and I hadn't shed a single tear. But now they were coming.
"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that," I choked out, wiping the tears away in vain. They kept coming, and I couldn't stop them.
"No need to cry about it," he answered me, and I heard the grin in his voice.
"That's not why," I told him, and heard a how the grin fell. He sighed before he said anything.
"Yeah, I figured. So, what happened?"
"Nothing, I don't even know why I called you."
"Talk," he commanded.
"I'm not going to talk, because nothing is wrong. Just... I shouldn't have called. I'm probably interrupting a hunt or something, so I'll talk to you later," I told him and hung up before he had the chance to say anything.
I knew I would talk if I continued to talk to him. He, and Sam, could always make me talk. And I liked that. I was comfortable enough to share everything with them. But not this. Not now. And probably not ever.
I put the phone away and tried to get up from the bed. It hurt to breathe, so imagine the pain it caused to actually stand up. It wasn't fun. And walking into the toilet wasn't either.
I closed my eyes as I stood in front of the mirror, not really wanting to see how I looked like. But I had to sooner or later, so I opened my eyes.
My right eye was swollen, and I doubted that it would stop turning bigger anytime soon. There was a few bruises on my face, but not that many. The first thing you saw was the swollen eye and the split lip. Yeah, that would hurt the next time I ate.
I wanted to change clothes, but I didn't have any new with me and so I stumbled out into the room again. And then out, and into the hallway. I was not staying here for any longer.
I checked myself out, and walked outside. I reached the entrance just in time to my sister to pull over with the car. She didn't even park it before she was outside.
I hushed her before she had the chance to say anything, and I climbed into the car.
We didn't say anything until we were home, and Tess wanted to know what had happened.
I told her I would tell her, but that I really needed a shower. She looked at me worriedly, but nodded.
It took me forever to walk the steps up the stairs, but I managed. I walked into my room where I picked up new clothes and then I walked into the bathroom. I made sure the door was locked before I carefully took my clothes off. The dried blood made it stuck on my skin, and it hurt to pull my shirt over my head. I threw the clothes I was wearing in a pile – I was going to throw it away. Although it was my favorite pair of jeans, I was never going to wear them again. No way.
I stepped in under the hot water, and stood there forever. It felt like my skin was burnt off when I was done, but I still felt dirty. But I knew that I could have stood there forever, and still felt dirty.
So after about an hour I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around myself.
Then I placed myself in front of the full-body mirror we had, and dropped the towel.
And I cried even more.
The bruises was covering pretty much my whole body.
My arms had marks after his rough hands, holding me back. Holding me in place.
There was a big, nasty bruise on the side of my hip where he had kicked me, with another one right under my left breast. I couldn't see a part of my body where I wasn't turning blue.
I even saw a couple of teethmarks.
The clothes I had taken was not good enough. I wrapped the towel around myself and sneaked into my room where I picked out other clothes. This time a long sleeved shirt, two sizes too big. I had stolen it from Sam, and I don't even think he knows about it. At least he hadn't said anything.
That boy is big. Only a year younger than me, but two sizes bigger. But then of course, Sam is so freaking tall. Even though Dean was shorter than Sam, his clothes was still way too big on me.
I stopped thinking about the Winchester brothers, and pulled on a pair of long legged pajama pants.
They belonged to Rob, also too big to really fit me.
But I really didn't feel like wearing my own clothes right now.
I pulled my hair up in a bun, but released it when I noticed another bruise on my neck. I dried my tears and walked downstairs, where both Tess and Rob sat in the kitchen.
They were both looking at me with concerned eyes when I sat down, wincing at the pain.
"What do you want to know?" I whispered, knowing I would not tell them everything. It was obvious that I had been beaten, but I would not tell them what else had been done. Taken.
"Who the hell did this to you?" Rob asked me as Tess asked if I had talked to the police.
I answered Tess' question first.
"Yes, I talked to them. And the answer to Rob's question..." I trailed off, collecting courage. "Trent."
