Trigger: Attempt of suicide. Hope you enjoy this chapter! -xoxo

The warm glow of the lamp on the bedside table greeted me as I walked, still barefoot, into the motel. I sat at the small table, gesturing to Sam and Dean to do the same. They complied, tossing their bags on the ground as they went. After sitting in silence for a minute, Sam began to speak.

He told me of his past, how his mom died, then his dad taught him and his older brother Dean how to hunt. He told me that he had demon blood in his veins, and that every once in a while, he would get premonitions of a supernatural death. He saw my family die in his head before it happened, which is why they showed up.

Dean stayed silent the entire time, monitoring my expression throughout Sam's tale. I don't know why, but I believed them. I knew something wasn't right about that fire, I mean, aside from the fact it was black. A presence, which is so cliché, surrounded my house, and I guess I was glad to know there was actually something wrong.

When Sam finished, I stayed silent for a minute, because I felt obliged to tell them my story, but didn't want to open up and let my entire penned up emotion spill out.

"My little sister, her name is-was Jessi. She loved rainbows, ponies, and motor bikes." Sam and Dean did a double take when I said that. "She had an obsession with all the different parts and pieces of the bike, and even though she was so little, always wanted to ride. My parents, of course, wouldn't let her ride a bike, but for her eleventh birthday, which is in two weeks, I reserved an entire dirt ramp, equipped with two motorbikes. One for Jessi, and one for me." I stopped, feeling my eyes begin to tear.

"But she's dead now, so I can't think about that." I finished quickly and stood up, walking to the separate bedroom and locking the door behind me. The tears I had been holding back spilled over, and I wept silently, a skill I had perfected over the years, so no one knew I was in pain.

"Izabel, please open the door." I heard Dean say softly.

"No, I don't want to." I was able to stop the crying just like that, another skill for any time someone walked in on me, they would never know.

"Why not?" Dean asked. I knew he wasn't going to give up.

"I'm-I'm going to take a shower." Was there even a shower in here? God, I hope he didn't know. I really just wanted to get back to my private sob session with myself, just to get it over with.

"Ok, now I know you're lying, there is no bathroom in there." Oh shit, he knew.

"Just leave me-Hey!" Dean kicked the door in, just like on of those FBI agents. He had no right! But his face wasn't angry; it was sympathetic. He was going to try and get me to talk more.

"Sorry, but you need to talk to someone about this." Dean sat on the bed, patting the space next to him. I remained standing.

"No, I can deal with it on my own. I'm 17, I can take care of myself." I could take care of myself, probably. I mean, I had never been away from my parents for more than a week, but how hard could it be?

"Believe me, I thought the same thing, I know." Oh God, he was trying to relate to me. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and I could see this was just as awkward for him as it was for me.

"So leave me alone." I turned away from him, expecting him to leave, but he didn't. Oh shit. Those damn tears betrayed my years of hard work to hide them. I stayed facing away from him so he couldn't see.

"You see, you and I, we have the same personality. We tell people we're fine, so they go along with their business, and then grieve alone when we are by ourselves." Dean continued talking to my back.

"You don't know me at all." I refused to let anyone see me wounded, physically or mentally.

"Maybe you're right. But I know myself. And when my dad died, I held it all in and it got worse and worse each day to think about. And I know what you are going through is so much more than what I had, which is why you need to talk to someone, or let yourself feel it. Otherwise, the pain will eat you from the inside out." He was so right, and I knew it. This grief was going to kill me if I didn't share it with anyone else.

"I can't-I can't do that right now, maybe later." My voice faltered, the first sign of my submission to sadness.

"But, that's the point! The longer you hold off, the more pain you have to feel." Dean remained seated, but his voice grew louder, as if he was trying to get me to hear something I could never bear to listen to.

I turned around, ignoring the tears running down my face. "You don't get it! I have no one! My mom died, my dad as well, and I know you get how that feels, but I lost my little sister. She was 10 years old, and I couldn't do anything to save her. You have Sam right? He's your younger brother. You had him to rely on when your parents died, you had a responsibility towards him to protect him and you did it. I literally have no one now." There was no going back to a stone cold front, I was ruined. "So yeah, sorry your parents died, but at least you have someone to turn to. You had that option. Me? I have no one."

I stayed standing and Dean stood up, stepping closer towards me, but I turned away. I had exposed myself enough; I didn't need to go crying on someone's shoulder. Dean recognized my wish for isolation, and left the bed room., quietly closing the door behind him, leaving me with my thoughts. I looked toward the bed, my vision blurry from the never-ending tears I couldn't hold back.

Dean had left his keys. I strode over to them and took them into my good hand. I could escape. There was a window and we were on the first floor. But I had to act quickly. I opened the window with my good arm, cradling the throbbing one to my chest. I quickly made my way to the Impala, my bare feet now immune to the cold.

Jumping into the driver's seat, I flew the keys into the ignition and backed out of the motel parking lot. I sped down the road, wondering where to go. I had no extended family, both my parents were only siblings and their parents were dead. I didn't have any good friends to go to.

I just didn't want to deal with this. No one would benefit from my grief, in fact, it would just bring everyone down. Looking to my right, I saw a bridge over a rocky river. I pulled up to the middle and stepped onto the cool cement. This was it. I could be free of this, forever.