Now Dean was 22 and still stuck under his father's fist. 2 hits to the face and a kick to the chest sent Dean silently to his room in pain. That night he dreamed of an escape, A world where he could see his mom again and wasn't trapped inside the cage his father built around him. He dreamed of happiness and saw his way out.
2 AM Sam was asleep and John was in a drunken coma. Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala, grabbed his bag and left to a motel just 10 miles down the road. Dean checked into a room and walked in, tracing his hands against the peeling wallpaper. He looked to the 2 large beds and set his bag down on the one nearest to him. He went to the bottom of the bag and grabbed his gun setting it softly on the bed. He then walked to the nightstand and pulled out a pen and paper and began to write to his brother.
Hey Sammy,
I am sorry.
I am sorry that you didn't get to lead a normal life. I am sorry that you didn't have the family you deserved. I do need to ask you one last thing. Stop right here. Don't go into the bathroom because I don't want you to see. Please leave dad. I don't want him to hurt you like he had hurt me. I am sorry.
Dean
Dean set down the paper on bed closest to the door and picked up the gun. He walked into the bathroom, looking the door behind him and sat down in the bathtub and closed the molded curtain. Dean took his last look around leaned back, brought the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
