CHAPTER 3
The next morning:
Sam was still a little sore from the fight. He remembered he had to take his medication. He made his way into the kitchen. "Medicine is in the cabinet." Dean said. Sam got them down from the cabinet. He thought he read take four pills so that's what he took. After about an hour those four pills started to take an effect on Sam. He stumbled around the house almost as if he were drunk. Dean noticed it. "Sam how many of those pills did you take?" Dean asked. "Um…I think four." Sam said. He felt as if he were flying. He liked this feeling he had. "Sam, you were only supposed to take two." Dean said sternly. "I thought I read take four." Said Sam. Dean got up and got the medicine bottle. "No, it says to only take two."
After Sam was calmed down Dean went to check in on him. Sam was lying on the bed asleep. Sam looked so innocent when he was asleep. Although everyone that knew him knew he wasn't. After a while Sam awoke. "Sam, you knew you were taking too many of the pills!" Dean screamed. "What? What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "You know what I'm talking about." He paced around the room furious at his little brother.
He just got passed the drinking. How can he do this? Dean thought to himself. Sam just sat there. He couldn't believe that his own brother thought that. "Dean, I didn't know. I swear to God. You think I would do that?" Sam said looking his brother straight in the eyes. "Yeah Sam, I do. You drank didn't you? I never thought you'd do thateither but you proved me wrong." Dean looked at his brother with anger in his eyes. "Dean… I think…" But Dean cut him off. "No, Sam you don't think. That's the problem!" Sam couldn't take it anymore. "Dean, I hate you!" Sam screamed. "You're always telling me what do and when to do it. You always jump to conclusions that aren't true." Dean looked at Sam. Dean felt something inside him break. "Sam you don't mean that." Dean calmly said. "Oh, yes I do." Sam said. He stood up, went over to where Dean was standing and looked him in the eyes.
Sam tightened his fist. He swung and hit Dean hard in the stomach. Dean screamed in pain. He fell to the ground. Sam jerked him up and hit him again. Dean by this point was crying in pain. Sam didn't care though. He was angry because his brother believed he would do such a thing as that. He picked him up off the ground and made him stand. "Sam why are you doing this?" Dean asked. "I've been waiting to do that for a long long time." Sam said.
Dean wanted to hit Sam back so bad. He couldn't though. It would only make them get in a bigger fight. He didn't have the strength. He got up and drove off.
Sam saw him go out the door. But he didn't care. By the time Dean got back Sam was fast asleep on the couch. He put a blanket over Sam. "Good night Sammy." He whispered. He was still hurt by what Sam had said earlier. Dean walked back into his room and went to sleep.
Sam woke up and thought about past events in his life. He could only remember things that had caused him pain. He went in the bathroom and found a razor. He sat down on the floor. He held out his arm. Sam put the razor to his arm. He began to cry.
He pressed it down hard enough to pierce his skin. When it did he dragged it across his arm. He flinched in pain. Blood surfaced and ran down his arm. Sam sat there a few more minutes before cleaning off his arm. He went back to bed.
The next day Sam covered his arm with a long sleeved shirt. "Sam…did you really mean that you hated me?" Dean asked with a shaky voice. He was afraid of the answer. Sam thought for a few moments. "No. I was just really mad that you thought I would purposely OD." Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry Sam, I really am." Dean couldn't think of anything else to say.
Dean still didn't fully believe Sam was telling him the truth. Sam hadn't been the same for months. Dean guessed it was from the asylum. He didn't understand why Sam had to release his feelings in such destructive ways. He wished Sam would just talk to him. Dean walked into the bathroom and found blood on a towel. "Sam, why is there blood on this towel?" Dean asked worried. Sam froze. He thought of an excuse. "My nose was bleeding last night." Sam said. Dean wasn't so sure about that. But he didn't question Sam. He thought he'd just better watch him closely for a while.
Sam lay awake again that night. He missed Jess. He blamed himself for her death. If I could've just somehow done something, she'd still be here with me, in my arms. Sam thought. Sam raised up his shirtsleeve and looked at the cut he had made the night before. This is the only thing I have any control over now. He thought. He found the razor again and placed it on his arm. He dragged it across his arm again. Blood ran to the surface and ran down his arm and dripped onto the floor. Sam felt helpless. His life had been nothing but hell since his dad disappeared. God why is this happening to me? Sam thought as tears streamed down his face. He dragged it across his arm again. Tears fell harder from Sam's eyes.
He's not the Sam I know. Dean thought. He used to be so happy. Ever since dad disappeared and mom and Jess died, the kid acts like he doesn't know where to go. Dean wished there were some way to help Sam. Dean couldn't concentrate on anything else but Sammy.
Sam sat on the floor with his head in his hands. Blood still on his arm and on the floor. He hated the fact that he was doing this to himself…to Dean…to his mom and Jess. But he couldn't stop. When something terrible happened this is what he did. This was his way of letting out his pain. He got to his feet and cleaned up the blood. He was gonna have to be more careful if he didn't want Dean to find out. He used a washcloth to clean the blood. He rinsed out the blood with hot water and soap. Sam looked down at his arm. He pulled the sleeve down over the cuts. He knew this wasn't the right way to let his pain go. But it was the way he wanted to do it. He didn't know why but he just felt it was the way for him. I can handle it. I can. Thought Sam.
Dean watched Sam close over the next few days. He acted normal. Dean was kinda relieved to see that. He found no more blood on anything in the bathroom. No signs of Sam being depressed. But no one but Sam and God knew what was really going on. Sam wanted to talk to Dean about everything but he knew Dean would try to get him to go to a therapist or something like that. He wondered if he would ever be the same again.