Chapter 15
Sam hung up feeling like he'd just gouged out a part of himself and then stomped on it for good measure. But he'd needed to do it. Right? Yet it hurt, hurt more than he ever imagined it would.
The cell phone rang and he jumped. It dropped from his hand with a clatter onto the stone bench he was sitting on. He stared at the called ID and saw it was Dean. He looked away, engulfed by guilt, knowing his brother would be confused and aching, and that he was the one responsible for his brother's pain.
He glanced around the secluded park, trying not to cringe each time the phone rang. He'd picked the spot carefully, knowing Dean's usual calling times. He'd wanted their conversation to be private, having finally worked up the nerve to do what he must. He'd stupidly hoped the sweet scent of flowers and greenery surrounding him would help soothe the wounded edges. Perhaps even help salve his guilty conscience. They did nothing of the sort. If anything, what he felt soured everything around him, making it seem false, a façade that could at any moment be blown away and reveal his life for the empty pit it was.
Sam felt a sob hitch up his throat and clamped down on it with all the will he could muster. Someday Dean would understand. Someday he would find a way to make it up to him. Someday… He shoved the heels of his hands against his closed eyes, feeling the tears trying to well up.
This had to stop! Without the constant reminders, he would be able to pretend he was safe. Maybe even become normal. He would be able to make the fear go away. He loved his brother, but he couldn't live like this anymore. He didn't belong in the life his brother led. And unless he cut himself from it, he would never belong here either.
Instead, he would become the failure his father thought he was. But his father was wrong, and he would prove it!
Sam wasn't Dean, he couldn't just blindly do whatever he was told. Their father wasn't God; he wasn't bloody infallible. The way he'd raised them was wrong. But try to tell him that or anything else and…
He shoved up to his feet.
Enough! It was to get rid of feelings like these that he cut his brother off. Dean loved him, Sam knew that. Hell, he loved Dean, too. He'd die for him. But so much of the time at home he'd felt inferior, despite the way his brother always doted and protected him, or perhaps because of it. He didn't need to be treated like that. And now he wouldn't be -- ever again.
His eyes burned.
Right or wrong, he would prove he could stand on his own. There would be no one watching out for him now. No one. He would study harder, try to be more like everyone else, fit in, forget. And maybe, just maybe, someday this new pit of ache and emptiness inside him would go away.
Though somehow…he very much doubted it.