Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing, but I'll give em' back.
Warnings: This is dark stuff.
AN: Sorry about the delay in updating, I had technical difficulties.
Enjoy!
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Chapter 2: U +Ur Hand
Music blared loudly, throbbing through the Impala's metal frame like a viscious animal, harsh melody rolling out of the windows like smog. Sam hadn't bothered to update the collection of tapes, only feeling the anger of guitars and drums belatedly soothing. Almost like picking a scab.
He refused to feel despair, so instead he wandered down highways and only stopped when he nearly drove off the road in exhaustion. Instead of food, he ate up the miles, exhaust filling him up, but he never could seem to get full.
Taking another swig of whatever liquor this was, (he didn't bother to look at labels whenever he lifted them.) but it brought a nice burn down his gullet. Sam took in his surroundings. Another heap. It must have been abandoned for years. It had four walls and he didn't even need that. He actually started out sleeping in the Impala, but when he almost got mugged(he beat the man within an inch of his life), even he ha enough common sense to stop doing that.
So now he slept in anything that was abandoned and nothing else. Oblivion was just fine with him. Watch the paint peel, hear the flies buzzing overhead, as if they knew that he was already a corpse. It was one insignificant day; he hadn't bothered to look at a calendar, and had nothing to mark the occasion. It was the most important thing that happened to him. He was attacked.
TBC…