Drag you down
My eyes opened slowly while my head greeted me with excruciating pain. My sight was cloudy at first but I could tell that there was two people moving around me. It was white all around but I brushed it off as being a side effect from the drug.
"He's awake," I faintly heard someone say. It sounded like they were far away but I was sure that they weren't.
A light flicked on from near me and I realized that I was lying down. I attempted to sit up but was caught by a restraint on my ankles and wrists. I groaned as the light started to burn my eyes and make it harder for things to come into focus.
"Where am I?" I found myself asking to my captors. My mouth was extremely dry and bitter. It felt as if I hadn't had any water in days. Time was nothing to me. I didn't know whether or not it had been hours or days since I've been unconscious. I've only ever read about this heinous drug. I never suspected that I would one day fall victim to it.
"I never knew that this was an abandoned insane asylum before the state bought it back in the 70's. But it's only good news for me since now I have all these toys to play with," a disembodied voice spoke from the other side of me.
Of course, I knew that voice. It was the one I had been running from. It was Deans voice. My body betrayed me when it began to feel slightly comforted in his voice vibrating through the room.
I groaned again as I tried to pull myself up again. My hands were still tied up tightly and restrained to whatever contraption I was lying on. My vision slowly but surely began to pull through and I was soon face to face with my own nightmare.
Dean smiled down at me but it wasn't his usual smile. It was a sinister one and I knew he only reserved this one for when he was going to kill someone. "Dean," I said roughly as my hand tried to come up to touch his face. It fell flat once more and I realized that I wasn't the one with the power anymore.
"Hey, angel," he greeted me. His eyes softened up just a little bit when I said his name and I could tell that I ravaged several emotions in him that he didn't want to admit.
"What are you doing? Are you going to kill me?" I questioned him while staring into his eyes. I always believed that the eyes were a window to one's soul but I couldn't see anything looking back at me. It was only once in a while where I could catch a glimpse of the person behind the mask.
Dean chuckled but thankfully, shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm not going to kill you. But I am going to hurt you," he said so sure of himself.
He lifted the chair I had been lying on, which was flat, up until I was sitting up. I could now get a better view of the thick brown material that surrounded my wrists and ankles. I was sitting in what I could only describe as a dentist chair but much more unstable. The legs were rusty and it started to register with me where I was.
We were near the basement where most of the torture was done to mental patients back in the sixties and much before that. The way they treated someone who only needed to be helped was criminal. The state just hadn't bothered to get rid of much and instead opted to just dump it into the basement instead.
"Are you familiar with the term 'electroshock therapy'?" Dean asked me as he began to walk circles around me.
I swallowed nervously while my hands began to shake. "Yes," I whispered as I squeezed my eyes shut.
Deans hands were on my face in a second and forcing me to look at him. I opened my eyes to stare into the never-ending abyss of forest green eyes. They were angry but somehow doubtful.
"You're not insane like me, Cas. And usually I'd be okay with that. Usually, I would have killed you as soon as you turned your back. But I can't help but feel like I need you," he said while running a warm hand down my face then through my hair.
I held my breath and waited for whatever he was going to say next. He said he wouldn't kill me which is always good but when he's done with me, I'm going to wish that he would have.
"I have a plan. I always have a fucking plan, Cas. But you're making it very hard for me. I've already tried to leave this shithole but I can't. There's too many guards, too many inmates and too many damn witnesses. Also, I can't leave without my favorite doctor," he continued.
His hands were warm on my face and I've never felt so safe even when I knew something wicked was coming my way. I closed my eyes again while reminding myself to take deep breaths. I laughed at the thought of everything. "This isn't real. Who put you up to this? Raphael? Is he testing me or something?" I asked a now very confused Dean.
"No, Cas. This is real. I'm real and you're real," he told me with a stern voice and frown that caused wrinkles to appear next to his mouth.
I laughed harder at his antics. "Okay, very funny. Come out now, Raphael! I passed this stupid test of yours," I said loudly while looking around Deans shoulders. But no one came out to tell me I had passed. Or that it was just a joke. It was only me, Dean and Sam who was in the corner of the room awaiting his brother's instructions.
I waited a few more seconds in silence before doom grew heavy in my chest. I shook the restraints that were weighing me down. "Not funny, Dean. Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you when I get out of this?" I questioned him as anger of my own began to rise.
It was Deans turn to laugh. "Are you really in any position to be threatening a serial killer? You forget that I'm insane," he said with a guilty smile.
"You're not insane, Dean. There's reason behind this. There's reason behind everything. Just open up to me," I pleaded with him.
"Stop!" he screamed violently. I would have jumped if I hadn't been held down. "Stop trying to get in my head!" he demanded as he took a step back and held his balled up fists to his head.
I remained quiet, decidedly not wanting to piss him off further with my doctor talk. It seemed to trigger him in a harmful way. My lip quivered with fear and I bit it to get it under control.
Dean turned around to where Sam stood then nodded. Sam stooped over and picked up a small, old machine that I was already familiar with. It was an ECT machine in the shape of a white box. Along with it, were the pads doctors used to put on the patient's temples and a dial to control the electric current.
I shook my head repeatedly back and forth when they both neared me. "Dean, you do not understand the dangers of that machine," I warned him but he merely brushed it off.
"Well, angel, I know that this is conventionally used with some form of anesthesia but I'm an unconventional man. We'll do it old school. No protection," he replied with a sly wink.
Sam held my head down as Dean attached the pads to each side of my temple. Tears were freely falling down my face and my body was giving every last trace of energy in an effort to fight them but to no avail.
Sam moved back to the corner then Dean moved near the machine. He wiped away my tears as if he actually gave a damn about me then put his finger up to his mouth to silence my sobs.
"Why, Dean? This will only give me memory loss and a strong hatred for you," I said in one last effort to get him to let me go.
Dean smiled at my words. "No. You won't hate me. You won't even remember this little excursion. Besides, if my plan works then you'll be just as unhinged as I am then maybe we can be together."
I shook my head while squeezing all the remaining tears out of my eyes. "This is just a dream. I'm still at home asleep in my bed. This isn't real. This isn't real," I repeated to myself.
Deans finger tilted up my chin and forced me to face this new twisted reality. He held a balled-up rag in his other hand while he stared at me with evil intentions. "You can't wake up my sweet angel. This is not a dream," he said before shoving the rag in my mouth to hide my screams.
"They say to never above a 50% when giving someone this treatment. Of course, they want all the voices in your head to go away and for you to be cured. Well, I want to give you voices. I want you deranged. So, let's crank it up to 80%" he told me before turning the dial to eighty.
The volts shot through my brain causing the muscles to seize up. The pain was excruciating. I screamed even with the rag blocking out my sounds. My body convulsed and fought against the restraints. The human body can only take so many electrical currents going in at once. Dean had pushed the limit and now my body and mind were taking the heat for it.
Sweat was pouring out of my body while screams continued to sound out of my mouth. I wanted this to end. It felt like time had come to a halt and there was nothing besides me and pain. Eventually, my mind drifted off and I felt nothing. That's the funny thing about the brain, it hates to think of its own mortality so it will do anything it can to distract you.
I was in a different place while in that chair. I was no longer Castiel Novak but I was Jimmy Smith. The young dark-haired boy with a mother who was high most of the time and an absent father. My mind took me to a setting of being in that hell that I used to call home.
I lived in the poorest neighborhood of Pontiac, Illinois. The shutters were barely hanging on the weathering away building. Most of the windows were cracked and the door had a huge hole in it from all the times my mom's boyfriends would try to kick it down.
I was fifteen years old as I studied for my big physics test coming up. My nose was in a book like it had been most of the time. Why did my brain make me relive my worst memory at a time like this? But there was nothing I could do but watch.
It felt like my adult body was in that room with adolescent me. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, knowing what was about to happen. But, of course, life was cruel that way.
I read and reread the practice equations over and over until I was positive I could memorize them on sight. I was about to move on to the next section when I heard a loud bang come from the living room. I had ignored and decided it was best if I didn't get involved in whatever drama my mother was caught up in this time.
"Naomi! Naomi! Get your ass up!" a man shouted in the next room.
I rolled my eyes but wasn't surprised that my mother was sleeping off whatever drug she took this time. I started to read the next section and found myself getting sucked into the information until a scream pulled me out of it. It was a man's scream this time.
Curious, I placed my book down on my bed then slowly stood up. I walked over to my door and cracked it open so I could hear more of what was going on. "Naomi, wake up! Wake up! Oh, fuck!" he screamed.
I furrowed my brow then pushed myself through the door. I walked into the living room where my mother was lying face down on the floor next to the couch. A man with many tattoos who I had never seen before turned towards me.
"Hey, kid! You've never seen me before. I'm out of here!" he said with a face as white as a ghost.
I tilted my head. "Um, okay. What are you talking about?" she sleeps like that a lot. Probably just fell off the couch at some point," I replied with indifference before bending over and rolling her over.
Her face was white. Whiter than I had ever seen and blood was dried up under her nose. I felt myself become ill when it registered to me just how cold she was. I dropped her arms that I had been holding and stumbled backwards.
"She's dead," I said in disbelief. Her cold dead eyes stared back up at me. I should've felt horrible to see my last known family member dead on the hard ground but I felt nothing. If anything, I felt free. It was a torturous thought to have.
"I'm getting the fuck out of here. She must've OD'd. That crazy bitch was always taking whatever pill she could find," the strange man said as he backed away to the door.
I turned to him and frowned. "What about me?" I asked even though I knew this guy couldn't care less if I died too.
The man shook his head quickly. "No way, kid. I had no part in this and I was never here," he said quickly before opening the door and running outside.
I sat on that dirty, old couch for hours as I deliberated what I was going to do. Maybe I should've just burned the entire house down. Or I could call the police. But I was almost sixteen and I refused to be a part of the system. Besides, I could take care of myself. She never took care of me anyways.
That night, I waited until the streets were dead then dragged the stiff body of my mother out into the backyard. I laid her on the cold, hard ground while I dug her grave. She had no job, no source of income and no friends. I knew no one would come looking for her.
Luckily, my father had given her the house before he ran away so I wouldn't have anyone coming around to evict me. It was set. My future was set. I would work hard to get out of this neighborhood and this state. I didn't have anyone I could make proud so I would just make myself proud.
I patted the dirt and evened it out with my shovel once she was buried six feet under. I smiled to myself at my accomplishments then went inside and took the best shower I've ever had. The next day, I went to school and passed my physics test with flying colors. And I never got caught.
My mind shot me back into present time but I couldn't remember why I was down in the basement. I was no longer restrained but sitting up in the chair. I wiped the drool that was hanging out of my mouth and frowned. Why was I here?
A man with light brown hair stood in front of me with wonderment on his face. I continued to frown as I looked back at him with indifference. "Hello, I'm Dr. Novak. Who are you?" I asked him as I stuck my hand out for him to shake.
The man flashed his pearly white teeth at me as wrinkles formed around his eyes. I decided I liked him immediately. "Dean Winchester."
