Silent Screams Chapter Eleven
AN: Yes, I know, I'm a procrastinator. But it wasn't my fault this time, my laptop crashed and I lost everything. So I wrote a chapter with a lot of action in it, hopefully that will make up for lost time. Now, on with the story…
It was around 5:30 in the morning, and still dark out. Adam, having not slept at all, was quietly packing his duffle bag. With any luck, he could be on a bus to anywhere before Dean and Sam woke up.
He had grown to like Sam and Dean a lot, he would miss them, but he made a promise to himself when he was seven, that he would never tell another person what he could see, and he wasn't about to break that promise.
Sam was getting too close to the truth. Too close to putting the pieces together and figuring out the puzzle.
That's why he was currently trying to ease the locks open and sneak out. Easing the door open, he slid out into the cold night air, ever-so-gently closing the door.
He put his ear to the door, listening for any sign of them waking, for he knew they were light sleepers, but nine came. It didn't surprise him that they were sleeping so hard. They had spent hours last night trying to get Adam to tell them who clawed words on his abdomen. He didn't budge, and finally, at around one or two, they gave up and went to bed.
Zipping his jacket up and hoisting his duffle over his shoulder, he started down the motel parking lot. He ran his hand over the Impala as he past, he would miss that car.
Keeping to the streetlights, he walked alone through the dark barren town.
Clutching his stomach, he pushed himself to walk faster, his wounds protesting with every step. Pulling up the hood of his jacket, he ducked his head to protect his face from the biting frozen air.
He walked that way until he found a bus stop under a streetlamp. Setting on the bench, he wrapped his arms around himself, and waited for his new life to drive up.
What Adam didn't understand yet, was that no matter where he went, he couldn't run from his problems. He couldn't change his fate, or his destiny. He could only face them as they came; which was sadly what happened next.
The bench let out a creak. Adam didn't even have to look; he knew she was setting beside him. He could feel her presence.
Lifting his head, he looked straight at her while discretely reaching for the iron knife in his jacket. He swiped the knife at her and she disappeared, which caused him to wedge his knife in the wooden bench.
Yanking the knife free, he stood up, readying himself for her return. Feeling her behind him, he spun around and slashed at her with the knife, missing.
She grasped his wrist tightly, making him drop the knife, which she promptly slid across the pavement to the other side of the street. Pushing him back onto the bench, she looked stared at him, her head slightly tilting to the side.
He stared back at her, with her white dress dripping blood and her mouth slit up the sides and then sawn up. The anger emanating from her surprised him. He couldn't imagine the torture she had to endure.
She sat on the bench beside him. Adam slid as far away as he could on the bench, putting space between them. He didn't know what she wanted from him.
She slid towards him across the bench. Putting her hands on his stomach, she looked into his eyes, willing him to understand.
Adam shook his head, not understanding. He knew she wanted him to help her, but with what? He didn't know. She was like him, she couldn't communicate with words.
So she took action. Leaning against his chest, she absorbed into him.
Adam writhed in fear and pain, convulsing until fear turned to anger. Clutching his head, memories flashed across his mind like a slide show.
Big arms wrapping around and gagged her, dragging him, no her, into a basement full of other girls. Girls with butchered mouths, dressed in white gowns. They looked like a bunch of broken porcelain dolls.
The man had brown curly hair and a menacing smile; his eyes were dark, going deeper and deeper with dark secrets.
The name Daniel echoed in his head, reverberating through his mind.
But these weren't his memories, they were hers, no, their memories. They were the same person now.
Standing, he made his way back to the motel; he knew what he had to do.
The sun was rising as he got into the Impala. Bending down, Adam began hotwiring the car, just like Sam had taught him. He wished he could see their face when they found an empty parking space, Adam bet Sam hadn't planned on that lesson being used against him.
Starting the car, he pulled out of the parking lot with an ease he shouldn't have had. Adam had never driven before in his life, but somehow he knew exactly how, as if he had been driving for years.
Adam had never been in this town before, yet he seemed to know exactly where he was going.
Adam glanced at the rearview mirror and was surprised to see his normally green eyes were now a milky white color. He had seen that color before, he just couldn't remember where. Shaking his head, he let it go; he had to focus on his destination.
He drove across town, and parked a block away from where he was supposed to go. Getting out of the car, he popped the trunk. Taking out a gun, a can of lighter fluid and a lighter, he hid them in his jacket, before walking the last mile to a small house with a blue roof that looked like it could use some work.
Adam knocked and was answered by a young man, only about twenty or so.
Adam's eyes widened in rage, it was him. Brown hair curling at the tips, a friendlier smile, but the eyes, they were the same deep dark eyes.
"Hi, can I help you?" The smile was not as menacing ass before, but there was no mistaking it, that was him.
Taking the gun from the waste ban of his jeans, Adam pointed the gun at him, smiling dangerously.
"Dude, what's going on? Please don't shoot me." The man said backing into the house with his hands above his head.
Adam followed him inside and kicked the door shut behind him, never taking his eyes off the terrified man.
"What do you want from me?" The man stuttered.
Adam opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Furrowing his brow in frustration, he looked around the room for something to help. His eyes landed on an old picture sitting on the mantle of the fireplace.
It was of a young man with curly brown hair and a menacing smile.
Snatching it off the mantle, Adam thrust it at the man.
"That's my Grandfather, Daniel Hansen. How do you know him?" The man asked confused.
Adam shook his head, looking at the picture and then the man; trying to make the man to understand.
"What? That's not me, I know I look like him, but that's not me! He was a good man!" The man pleaded. "I was named after him, my name is Danny."
Adam gripped the gun tighter, his mind burning with rage. How dare he try to deny what he did? To lie and pretend that it never happened.
He would pay for his actions. He would reap what he sewn. He would suffer, just like they did. He would burn.
Adam poured the lighter fluid around the living room.
"Hey, what are you doing? No! Don't!" Danny begged, making a move towards Adam, who cocked the gun, stopping him in his tracks.
Lighting the match, he dropped it to the floor, instantly starting a fire that traveled around the room, trapping them. Flames licked, climbing up the curtains, devouring most of the room.
Smoke was filling the room, causing Adams breath to slow and Danny's screams to die down. His vision was blurring.
Suddenly the door burst open, sending the flames everywhere. Adam closed his eyes and hid his face from the flames as someone dragged him out.
Someone flung him onto the cold ground and he could breathe again. His was breathing shallow at first, but grew stronger with every breathe he took.
He could hear Danny thanking someone as he was lifted up and put in a car. Sirens could be heard in the background.
He failed. He had failed. Now he would never pay for his actions.
These were Adam's last thoughts as he passed out.
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