Disclaimer: This story has the typical violence you'll see in the show along with all the angst. I try not to get too off character or too violent, but I'm giving it a mature rating just to be on the safe side.
I of course own nothing and get nothing but the satisfaction of writing the story and hopefully making it enjoyable for others as well. Comments are always welcome, good or bad.
This one is shorter than the others and ends where it originally ended on the WB boards. I'm sure my previous readers will be happy to finally get an update! Thank you to everyone and I hope you have been enjoying it.
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Sam was pinned to the wall. The woman stood in front of him with a small table between them. On the table was a large Bowie knife. Sam's face was red with anger and pushed against the unseen force that held him against the wall.
"Come on Sam. Not with your body, with your mind." She was glaring at him with an evil sneer on her face, "Dean's brain matter redecorated one of our rooms! Sarah writhed and convulsed on the floor from the poisons we gave her! Your dad was ripped literally to pieces!" She laughed at him, "you hate me so much; just kill me then! The knife is right there, use it! Focus that hate! Focus your rage and kill me!"
Sam tried; he wanted to kill her with every fiber of his being. He looked at the knife and visualized it piercing her skin, gutting her. But the knife didn't move. As his energy and steam burned out he let his head hang. Her laughter was like the knife cutting into him instead of him doing it to her…
She moved the table out of the way and walked up to him. She let her hand caress his stomach, across his chest, up his neck, and brushed his cheek. He jerked his head away from her, "go to hell." She just smiled, "been there, done that. It's more fun here." She stepped back and released him from the wall. He glared at her and glanced quickly at the knife on the table beside them. "Go ahead," she cooed. As much as he wanted to, he also knew that's what she wanted him to do.
"I'm not going to play your games or become what you're hoping. So either put me out of my misery or let me go," Sam turned away from her and strode to his room, closing the door behind him.
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Sam was standing at the sink. He'd been in this house for almost four months now. They hadn't really done anything to him besides pin him to the wall and taunt him with the death of his family. This week he had stopped trying to move the knife at all. He was tired of their game. His mind and body were numb to their taunts now. He'd come to grips with the loss of his family and they couldn't use it against him any more.
Karen, she'd finally told him her name, came to the house often to icheck/i on him. Typically she just asked him if he was ready to start, and then shrug and leave when he cussed at her, attacked her, or just turned his back on her. Attacking her was a rare occurrence since she'd typically just throw him across the room before turning to leave. Bob and Chuck were always there. If he was not in his room, one of them would always be within eyesight.
Karen had already made her check for today and left. As he stood at the sink filling a glass of water he looked at the few dishes that were there. One item caught his eye. An idea flashed through his mind. He drank the water in the glass and glanced over at Chuck. He wasn't sure where Bob was, but he knew he wouldn't have much time. So he refilled the glass and took a couple of sips before he started mumbling the prayer that his father had made him memorize.
Chuck shifted at the front door, but didn't say anything. He watched Sam getting the second drink, but glanced away as he began to drink it. He thought he heard Sam saying something, but he couldn't tell. He'd been in the house for about four months and wasn't worried about Sam. He'd enjoyed the few bouts in the beginning where he'd been able to throw the kid around, but it was quiet now. He was pretty sure Sam's spirit was broken even if he was still a little defiant every now and again.
Sam finished what he was doing and began moving towards the front door. Chuck just watched casually from his position. When Sam attacked, Chuck was a little surprise, but confident in his ability to once again take down the boy. However, when Sam stabbed him with the turkey basting syringe and injected the holy water, Chuck was completely surprised and taken off guard.
Sam didn't hesitate; he opened the front door and took off running. He didn't care what direction he was going as long as he got away. He ran straight for the woods and dodged trees as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him.