So, I'm the worst updater ever. I just realized it has been over a month since I last updated. I am so sorry, but April has been the most hectic month of my life. I actually should be writing my ten-page paper right now, but I was in the mood for writing after my long break. I'm done with school in like a week and a half, so there will be a lot of updating after that!

Chapter 7

Adam knew he was in trouble. He had gone to class three days after his father had burned him with the cigar. Pain from the burns was still shooting through his body, but he knew John would refuse to let him stay home from school because the burns were not anywhere where people would see them. They looked slightly infected and the constant rubbing against his stiff jeans shot constant pain through his legs and stomach, but Adam would not tell John unless it worsened. Even sweatpants did not help lessen the agony. His teacher had notice his grimaces of discomfort even though Adam had tried to keep his pain locked inside and sit still at his desk. The slightest movement hurt, and every time his leg moved the slightest bit, it took everything he had not to whimper.

His teacher had meant well and had tried talking to Adam about why he was hurting, but Adam was too afraid to say anything. He had to take a test that day and had failed because of his fear and anxiety. The entire time he had to swallow down the acid-feeling of vomit as the nausea overwhelmed him again and again. His teacher had noticed and she told Adam she had to call John about his behavior because she was worried about him. Adam had visibly paled when she picked up the phone to call John, and it took every ounce of Adam's strength not to break down at that moment.

John had not been happy to be called away from his research. Shudders ripped through Adam's body again and again as John talked to his teacher. He blinked back tears from his red-rimmed eyes from the threatening stares John shot his way, but Adam's teacher never noticed. John put up a friendly front, as always, and too quickly John had taken hold of his arm, painfully tight, though it probably did not seem so to other people, and had led him to the enormous charcoal truck that looked out of place amidst the playground and painting of laughing children on the side of the school. John opened the passenger door and thrust Adam through the door, pinching his gaunt side, and muttering, "You're gonna get it when we get home," before slamming the door and making his way around the front of the truck.

It took even more strength not to call his brothers when the truck pulled into the cracked driveway. He had thought about running away as soon as the truck stopped and finding a payphone, but he was smart. Adam knew John was fast and in shape, unlike Adam who was small and terrified. So, He also remembered what it was like living with John when he was younger. He knew that his father killed things and if he truly wanted to, he could hunt Sam and Dean down and kill them, and then Adam would be alone. Adam could not handle living without his brothers. He looked up to and loved them so much that it would rip him apart if anything happened to them. So, Adam stomached the courage, turned the doorknob with a trembling hand, and walked into the dim house.

"Get in the living room," John ordered. Adam closed the door behind him, sealing himself off from the outside world and shutting himself into hell. Quickly shuffling into the dingy living room, head down and shoulders hunched, Adam heard his father's heavy footsteps pound on the fake linoleum floor of the kitchen and the clanging of jars as the refrigerator door opened. John walked back into the living room with a bottle of beer swinging from his hand. Adam's breathing quickened. He felt close to sobbing, but he did not want to seem completely weak in front of his father, no matter how much he hated the man. John slammed his bag of weapons on the table, causing Adam to flinch in fear. He wanted Dean so badly, so badly it hurt more than the burns on his legs.

Adam held his breath as he watched John take a long swig of beer, his eyes never once leaving his son. John clunked the beer onto the table and smacked his lips before glaring at Adam, his eyes darkening. "I thought I told you to keep your head down, boy."

"Dad, I –" Adam was cut off as John rushed across the room and backhanded him. The force of the blow caught Adam off guard and he braced himself against the wall behind him to keep from falling, a quiet sob rising from his throat.

"I told you to keep your head down!" John grabbed Adam by the collar and rammed him into the wall.

"I didn't say anything to her," Adam tried to tell John, but the man was past listening. He was too caught up in his own fury to see reason, and Adam was sent reeling to the floor when John punched him.

Adam fearfully looked up, holding a hand to his nose to try to staunch the flow of blood. John took a step forward and with menacing hands reached down and unbuckled his belt. "No, Daddy, don't," Adam begged, crawling backwards away from his father.

John slid the belt from its holdings around his waist and grabbed Adam, manhandling the boy to the arm of the couch. Adam was swung, facedown over the edge of the couch, the arm digging painfully into his ribs. The rough texture of the sofa was thrust into his face as his father painfully pushed his head into the cushion. Adam struggled for a second, trying to push away from John, but soon gave in and admitted defeat.

He would not cry. He kept telling himself he would not cry even when the tears welled in his eyes. He felt John move and his whole body tensed in anticipation. The first strike cut to the core and Adam bit his lip, drawing blood to keep from screaming out loud. As the belt continued to strike his back, harder and harder each time, Adam gripped the sofa, trying to alleviate the pain, but to no avail. He couldn't help but cry when his father kept going after twenty strokes.

When Adam felt like his skin was going to melt off his back John stepped back and wiped the sweat from his upper lip. Adam gingerly pushed himself off the couch and turned toward his father, breathing erratically. Unable to meet his father's hateful gaze, he looked at the ground, but he could still see that John held his belt in his right hand.

"Is that what you wanted, boy?" John snarled. "Did you think that by ratting me out to your teacher you'd get away from me?"

Adam felt dizzy from the pain. He heard John say something to him, but couldn't comprehend what it was his father was saying until something sharp cuffed the side of his face. It brought him out of his haze and he looked into the livid face of his father.

"You listening to me you little shit?" John yelled. Adam flinched as John's arm shot out and painfully gripped his.

"Sorry," Adam whispered, tearfully shaking his head.

"Sorry? You disgust me!" John brought his arm back, the arm holding the belt, and whipped it across Adam's face. Adam screamed when he felt the leather cut into his jaw. He fell to the ground and at the last second put his hand out to catch him, but he felt the feeble bone in his wrist snap when he hit the ground. It was the most terrible pain he had ever felt. In all the years his brothers and he had lived with John, Adam had never broken a bone. This was a pain he had never felt before in his life. He cradled his left wrist to his arm and held the other hand up to his face and once again started sobbing when he felt blood.

"Stop crying!" John yelled, but Adam couldn't. He was in too much pain. John stepped forward and kicked the little boy in the ribs. "Stop crying, you weak bastard!" He kicked him two more times before stepping back, breathing hard from exertion. "You stay the fuck in this house!" John turned, grabbed his coat and keys, and left his youngest son bleeding and weeping on the floor.

Adam lay on the floor, crying for twenty minutes before he could summon the strength to try to stand. He rolled over and gasped in pain as his back then his ribs brushed against the rough carpet. He reached up with his good hand and pulled himself up by the edge of the table. Tears incessantly leaked from his eyes as he stood. For a few seconds his vision blurred. He knew he was on the edge of passing out, but Adam wanted to get to his bed before that happened.

As he made his way to the hallway, step by painful step, he wondered how his brothers had dealt with this for as many years as they did. He remembered that Sam and Dean had been beat up more often than Adam had, but they were always able to act like everything was fine for him. Adam may have been young, but he was not stupid. He knew when his brothers were hurting.

Adam leaned heavily against the wall as he walked past the kitchen. He took a second to catch his breath and he looked into the kitchen and saw the phone hanging on the wall. Suddenly, it all made sense. Why would his brothers want him to live like this? They did everything for him, and they would always be here for him no matter what. They were able to protect themselves and they would find a way to keep protecting themselves even if John threatened to kill them. Dean had told him to call Sam no matter what happened, no matter what John said to him. Adam knew if he continued living with John, he would not be alive for long. John's beatings were closer together and more severe each time. Adam would either be dead soon or John would eventually take him far away on his crazy hunting trips. Either way, Adam would never see his brothers again. It was selfish, but Adam could not do it anymore.

Adam took a deep breath and pushed himself to walk to the kitchen. He took the phone off the hook and held it on his shoulder with his bruised and smarting cheek and dialed the number to Sam's dorm room that Dean had made him memorize. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall and prayed that his big brother would pick up.

Sam was sitting on the couch, nursing a warm beer, surrounded by the group of close friends he had made at school, but that didn't make him any happier. He hadn't felt the same since he had run into Adam and John. Adam was terrified. Sam had seen it in his eyes, felt it in the way Adam trembled. John had threatened the kid, Sam knew it, but there was nothing he could do until Adam told or until it was too late.

Derek had noticed his best friend looking depressed, so he had convinced Sam to invite Jessica and Joshua over to hang out for the night. The three of them were playing a card game, but Sam had lost interest hours ago. It wasn't until the phone rang that he was brought out of his stupor.

"Hello?" Derek asked. "Sam, yeah, hold on let me get him. It's for you," Derek said with a worried expression as he handed the phone to his roommate.

"Hello?" Sam asked. All he heard was a soft sob in return. "Adam? Is that you, kiddo."

After a slow few seconds, Sam heard a soft sob. "Hurts."

"Adam," Sam said, panicking. "Is Dad there?"

"No," his brother replied. Sam could hear the terror and pain in his cracking voice. "Help it hurts."

"I know, kiddo," Sam stood up and went to get his coat. "Listen, go find a place to hide and I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"'K," Adam cried.

"It's going to be okay, Adam," Sam tried reassuring his brother. "I'll be there soon. You going to be okay until then?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna hang up now. Go hide, buddy. I'll be there soon." Sam waited until he heard the dial tone and he hung up the phone, hating that he had to do that to his brother.

"Sam, what happened?" Jessica asked, standing up as Sam made his way to the door.

"Adam's hurt, bad. I have to go get him before my father comes back."

"We'll come with you," Joshua said.

"No, it's too dangerous," Sam replied.

"Sam, you're panicking," Derek said. "I have a car. I'll drive you there. It'll be faster. Plus, then you'll have someone to back you up."

Sam hesitated, not liking the idea of putting his friends in danger, but realizing it was better to go as a group than by himself. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." His friends all reached for their coats and headed for the door. Sam hoped to god they made it to Adam before John came back. Sam did not want to think about what would happen if he did.

Dean was lying in bed with a beautiful, naked girl asleep beside him. He was staring up at the ceiling in self-hatred and loathing. He was tired and afraid and so lost. He did not know what to do anymore. His life was spinning out of control with worry. Everybody had left him and he was lost without someone to care for.

A ringing interrupted his thoughts and he reached over the girl who was sleeping off the alcohol and picked up the cell phone that was lying on the table.

"Hello?" He groggily asked.

"Dean?"

"Yep."

"Adam just called me."

"Is he okay?" Dean jumped out of the bed and grabbed his jeans which were curled in a ball in a corner of the room.

"No, he sounded bad."

"Shit," Dean picked up the rest of his clothes and snatched his keys, hastily leaving the room. "I'm coming, Sammy."

"Okay, meet us at the hospital."

Dean got into the Impala and sped away onto the highway. He stared into the never ending span of darkness and could kick himself for being so selfish. He was getting drunk and laid, wallowing in his self-pity, while his little brother was getting the shit beat out of him. How was he going to fix this?

So, I hope some hurt!Adam made up for the long wait. I promise to try to get the next chapter up sooner. Let me know what you think.