Chapter 7: Panic

I was running.

The night's events were flooding my mind in the kind of blur you'd get if you had a concussion and woke up in the middle of a crowded street.

What just happened? I found myself screaming in my head. What did I just do?

I continued to run. I almost tripped several times while dashing blindly through the darkness.

What was I going to do? Where could I run now? Who would I turn to? In the span of thirty minutes, I had lost so much. And for what?

I was alone.

There was nothing except the muffled steps of my rubber-soled shoes on the pavement. Nothing. There was nothing.

I was numb with shock at what had happened. I couldn't feel anything. My mind was ridiculously devoid of all thoughts as the events re-winded and were put on fast-forward in it. It was like watching a movie instead of my life.

The only thought I could manage through all of this was damn it, damn it, damn it.

Crowley had dragged another victim into my house.

Into. My. House.

Why would he do that?

Stop thinking about it, I told myself as I sped through the deserted sidewalk.

But how the hell did I expect myself to forget the event that would potentially force me to live a life in hiding like some sort of fugitive? Oh god. Oh god.

At this point, my breath came out in painful gasps and sweat coated my shaking body. I don't know how many times people use this cliché, but my knees felt like water. I could tell you about ten different books off the top of my head where I heard that cliché, but it's accurate. Really accurate.

I leaned back against a building, focusing on steadying my breath.

Calm down, I told myself. Calm down.

Where was I going to go?

I didn't really register what was going on, really, so it wasn't that hard to think more clearly than I would have hoped.

You need to go somewhere to hide, I told myself.

Where? Where do I go hide? I asked myself.

To the only person who will take you in, I replied.

Only person who would take you in.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I let it just rest there.

I listened to his words in my head. I listened to his tone of voice and his absolute calmness.

"Think about what we've talked about," he said finally. "And when you are ready for an alteration in your lifestyle, my door is open."

He told me his door was open. Those were the words he said.

He was the reason why I destroyed my life. I already hated myself for it. My hatred was so deep rooted in myself that I knew I would never be able to get rid of it, not really. How could I have done what I did? I was loyal, I swore I was loyal.

And I went and turned around like that?

You're supposed to just find your cause in life and do everything for it. I found my cause, god damn it. Why did I have to throw everything away because of what a stupid asshole angel boy said?

I wanted to cry. I actually wanted to cry. And that made me hate myself so much more that it was painful. I actually felt physical pain over how much I hated myself.

Stupid bitch, I said to myself. You are a stupid bitch.

What was wrong with me? What was I doing?

I was just broken. I broke myself. Castiel broke me.

No, I guess that wasn't the problem.

My love was destroying me.

Ha, ha, wow damn that's so cheesy. I can't believe I'm actually writing this B.S down. Holy crap.

But hey, that's as accurate as you are going to get with how I felt. It didn't even make sense to me. Why would I break down so horribly just because he talked to me one time? That's not even realistic.

Why…why…why?

As I stood there alone, trembling and on the verge of hysteria, I realized that I already knew the answer.

This wasn't a one-shot deal. Castiel had been picking at me forever to give up my life. I could see it in that look he gave me each time we met. It was hatred and disapproval.

And it was pleading.

And each time, I was listening. I understood his message. I guess he must have slipped it into our conversations. But, he drilled it into me until I was unable to get it out. I was trying so hard to fight it. I tried drowning it out with a bottle of beer and a nice beat down of innocent civilians.

But, it never worked.

I was always listening and I always knew that one day I would crack. I would crack and destroy my life. I just knew it.

Its fine, I told myself suddenly. Its fine, you can get out of this situation.

But they are going to kill me! My mind screamed back at me.

Shut the hell up. You need to go to Castiel now, I heard he takes in wayward devils, I told myself.

I pushed myself from the crumbling brick wall I leaned against and let out a steadying breath.

Walk, I thought.

My legs began moving automatically like machinery. I was just following orders from my mind; impulses, I guess.

You know the way there, my thoughts insisted.

I walked passed the abandoned lot and turned the corner. It was not a very long trip. Around an hour, maybe. I had an hour to think.

It wasn't as cold as the days preceding.

That was one thing to be grateful for then, I guessed.

Cars flitted down the streets once in a while, since it wasn't even that late; maybe nine or ten. Still, I didn't even bother looking to see if any cars were coming when I walked down the street.

Part of me hoped that maybe one would crash into me, anyway.

Eventually, I turned the last corner to a street with many large houses sitting a few meters away from the winding street. They were mostly made with white planks and brick and stood about twenty meters from each other. They actually were very nice. Compared to my street, this was like heaven or something. The front lawns were all neatly cut, and to my slight amusement, were actually surrounded by white picket fences. That part was a bit ridiculous and very funny, but, I didn't laugh this time.

Which one is your house, Cas? I thought to myself as I continued down the stone walkway and stepped over overgrown roots which cracked the nearly impeccable surface and grew near the street.

I knew his address before. I actually wrote it down with the brilliant plan in mind to egg it on Halloween. That would have been a blast, but I never got the chance. Well, I thought it would be. But now, it just sounded kind of stupid and childish to me. It felt like a ridiculous phase I had gone through and now looked back upon while cringing. In any case, I had his address in mind— it was on the tip of my tongue…

I wish I would stop shaking. It wasn't that cold, as we already established. Fear just kept a really strong grip on me and I couldn't tear it away, as I normally did. It was funny, actually. I never felt this way when some policemen chased me with their voltage guns or whatever those are called. But, when faced with the prospect of my gang members— my own gang members— getting to me, I was terrified. There was a layer of cold sweat all over my body, making me feel real uncomfortable.

Calm down, I told myself again. Calm down, it will work itself out in the end, do you understand?

There were small street lamps lining the sides of the street. I was able to calm myself as I looked into the amber glow, trying to pretty much blind myself from what had just happened.

Where is his goddamn house? I thought desperately.

I began pacing down the street and had to have done so about five times before I decided I just could not remember the address.

Screw this.

I felt a cold sense of hopelessness consume me. This feeling wasn't new to me. I had felt it hundreds of times. But, in each of those times, it only lasted a few seconds. I was able to dispel it with apathy and the thrill of the chase.

I just couldn't this time.

I tried to comfort myself with the thought that Castiel was bound to come out soon. In the morning, maybe. I mean, he wasn't a hermit.

They'll find you way before morning, idiot, I snarled to myself. Why are you even running to the angel boy anyway, you stupid whore? He probably doesn't give a crap about you. It probably was all just a fake to get you to stop hurting people. All for his cause and all of that bullshit.

I might as well have just died right there, with nothing going for me now that my gang was sure to be after my blood for what I had just done all for his sake.

All for the sake of someone who probably didn't even feel a thing for me?

"Screw this," I whispered.

Wow, I felt like crap. It was such a crushing hopelessness and anguish that it became too much. And it stopped.

I stopped feeling anything. Only, it was a stop in emotion that hurt so bad.

I walked over to the side of the road and just sat down on the sidewalk.

You know what, I thought in a mental-tone of apathy. If they're going to come for me anyway, I might as well let them. I can't go back to my house either, for obvious reasons.

I could still smell the burning of wood. The black fog was still at the back of my eyes.

I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking about this.

Help me, I thought desperately to an audience who couldn't hear me.

At that very moment, (wow, how cliché can I get? Am I writing a chic-lit novel? God. Listen to me say 'God' as if he had anything to do with it!) I heard someone speak.

"I knew you would come."

End of Chapter 7