SO LET ME SLIP AWAY -SAM
POV-
People die every day.
Yeah. I know you probably knew that but I just wanted to make that much clear before I continue.
People die every day. You can believe me on this one. It could possibly be the one thing I'm right about in all of this.
So, bear with me.
Anyways, every night people turn on the news right? They watch the 11 o'clock on this particular channel. With this man and this woman as anchors. These two perfectly selected people by gender, race, personality and looks. These are the strangers that bring you the evening news.
These are the strangers who get paid to tell the world about everyone who died.
Well not everyone, just the people who died in the most 'interesting' situations.
Each segment. Each story lasts about one minute. Each reporter gets about one minute to tell you the entire life of a person who has died and the situation in which they died in. One minute.
And those are the lucky ones.
Because you see death, it lost its kick a while back. People stopped caring about death a while ago.
Wondering what this has to do with me yet? Bear with me.
Well people die all the time. It all just fatalities. When there's a huge catastrophe or a mass murder or a disaster, do we ever really take the time to remember each and every person? No it's just X amount of casualties. X amount of destroyed families. X amount of children left without a parent. X amount of hours of news coverage.
Bear with me. Trust me, I'm getting to the point.
So when all this is going on are we taking the time out of lives to remember each and every person we've lost? No.
We're just thinking about ourselves.
How will this event affect my life? What can I get cheaper now? Should I put my kids in private school? How about I lock me and my family in closet and never come out? How will this affect my morning commute?
You crash you're car on a freeway during the morning rush hour. Your death isn't a memorial of your life, or everyone coming together to morn your passing. Nope. Now you're the beep of horn. You're the extra ten minutes early some one has to leave in the morning. You're death is the AM radio traffic report.
Why do people wonder why I don't understand people?
Are you still bearing with me?
So the point of all this gibberish isn't to make some kind of statement on human behavior. It isn't supposed to change anyone's outlook. It's all just supposed to justify my reason for what I'm about to do. What I've got planned.
You guessed it. I'm ending it.
Right here. Right now.
I'm ending it.
I'm sick of waiting for someone to notice. I'm sick of carrying on all tortured and vacant and wondering when Dean or someone is going to care about what I'm dealing with. I'm sick of waiting for Dean to tune me in, not tune me out.
I can't keep going like this. I just can't.
So say it. All of you go ahead.
I need a loony bin. I need a goddamn straight jacket.
I need Dean to tell me just how wrong I am.
So it takes about an hour of thinking. About ten minutes of planning. And about 3 seconds to realize Dean has taken every weapon and put it back in the car. I mean, everything.
Just so you know, we're screwed to hell if the freakin witch comes back.
I sit up in my bed and realize Dean is asleep. This is what I call dumb luck.
I manage to roll my feet over the side of the bed as quietly as possible but then soon realize this action makes me dizzy. I'm trying to get up but my body won't cooperate. This fucking sucks. Dean took my gun. Dean took my scythe. I wouldn't be surprised if I looked over at my shoes to find the goddamn laces missing.
What am I suicide watch?
Who other than me thinks I shouldn't be?
It takes me another minute or two to lean back against the headboard and not see stars anymore. Then it takes me about thirty seconds to see the Tylenol on the nightstand next to me.
Dumb luck.
I reach over and fiddle with the cap for a few seconds. My hands are shaking. And goddamn children's lock! I can't take this shit!
I finally figure out how to take off the cap and pour the contents of the bottle onto my lap. It makes a louder noise than wouldn't have wanted it to and cringe at the idea of Dean waking up to find me like this. I pop a pill in my mouth and swallow it dry. Who would have thought this could be so easy?
Here's how it goes, Sam. This is how I see it
So when you realize you've only got two days left? Take a Tylenol. When you try to move and your body won't listen. Take two. When Dean doesn't wake up and stop you. Take three.When you think about how pathetic you must look? Take one more.
When you think about Jessica and Mom and Dad and Max Miller and Madison and Sarah and Ava and Stanford and Jo and Steve Wandell and Dean and just about every other person you've let down in your life? Take three. Just for fun.
When you realize you've taken about 12 and that's not gonna kill you? Take three. That brings us to a nice even fifteen.
When you realize you've run out of pills just slam your fist into the wall. Just do it.
Dean moans and sits up in his bed. His eyes wandering for information on why I just woke him up from his rare rest. He shakes his grogginess in about five seconds and realizes pretty quick what's going on.
He sees the tears on my face. He sees the empty bottle of Tylenol upside down in my hand. He sees no pills falling. None on my lap. He puts two and two together. He knows.
"What the fuck, Sam! What are you, O.D-ing on Tylenol?!"
Well yeah.
"What the hell are you thinking?"
That I could die from fifteen Tylenols. And how did I get into Stanford again?
"Come here…" with that slight warning I feel myself being tugged from my bed and pulled to my feet. My vision goes black and all I feel is Dean pushing me somewhere. What he gonna do? Maybe he'll kill me. Then just maybe-
The next thing I feel is cold tile beneath my feet and I know I'm in the bathroom. He forces me down onto my knees with the advantage that I'm still weak and he's shaking me.
"Throw it up now! Get it out!"
That's it. My brother's gone completely mental.
We both belong in a goddamn institution.
I slowly find my voice and whisper, "Dean I only had like fifteen… What are you crazy?"
Dean does something that resembles a cold laugh, "Me crazy? You're the one popping Tylenol like their freakin jelly beans now get that crap out of your system now!"
At first I don't do anything but then I feel Dean pressing on my stomach and my throat at the same time. I already feel sick and with the pressure on both those places I can't control it anymore. I just do it. I do as I'm told. And when there's nothing left to throw up I can't stop myself I just keep dry heaving.
"Dean… why are… you do-… ing… this to… me?"
But he's not satisfied. I can feel his breath on my neck and I know he doesn't want me to stop. Something's not right. I chance taking a look back at him and he's just staring into space. But then I feel another urge to throw up and I quickly throw my head in front of the toilet.
After a minute he's shushing me. I think he's realizing what he's done.
"Shh Sammy… I'm, I'm so sorry…"
It's ok Dean, really.
"Just, just try and calm down, ok?"
I can feel his hand gently rubbing my back and a few minutes when I'm finally done he moves me away from the toilet and let's me lean against the wall. All I hear is the mocking sound of the toilet flushing and then suddenly I feel Dean's arms wrap around me.
He's crying just like I was before. Tears are streaming down his face. And you want to hear something funny? I'm not crying at all. I'm just in shock that he is.
I find my self rubbing his back and hushing him like he was hushing me moments before. And then he opens his stress filled voice.
"I'm sorry Sammy… You scared me I couldn't let you… You just relax ok? Just relax… Just… As soon as you're ready… I'm going to listen… Ok Sammy? You can tell me… What you were telling me before… And I'll listen… I won't… I won't shut you out again… Never again… Just… I'm so… so sorry…"
My brother is rambling. He's finally broken his 'no chick-flick moments' rule and he's crying like a baby. He feels so guilty. He feels so horrible that he may have caused this and I know it. I would stop him and let him know not to feel that way but I don't think I would be able to. My voice is so small and weak right now compared to his. He'd just boom over me. He's finally doing everything I've been asking for, for the past few days. He's just not saying it. He's not saying the one thing I really want to hear.
"Don't ever even think of killing… Just don't ever do that again… I can't loose you… I can't..."
Come on Dean, please say it. Just say it once for me.
"You're the only brother I've got, Sammy… You have to let me help you… You have to tell me what you're going through…"
Please, Dean.
"I'm here now Sammy… I'm not shutting you out anymore…"
Almost there-
"You're… You're going to be alright… We're both going to be alright…"
Thanks Dean.
That's all I needed to hear.
- - - - - - -
A/N: Thanks for reading! PLEASE review and let me know what you thought. : )
