CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD

THE ROAD CONTINUES

CHAPTER 14

A loud scream woke me up. I quickly shot up to a seated position, noticing Dean doing the same. I looked over at him. Shock on his face, sweat pouring off him, his hair was soaked, he body shaking, his eyes full of fear. He had woken from another nightmare. Uncontrolled shaking. His fists balled as tight as they could be. His jaw was clenched closed. He drew his knees up to his chest, rocking back and forth in the spot he sat, labored breathing, panting, unable to catch his breath, breathing. Moaning coming silently from his locked lips.

When I sat on the bed beside him, I could feel he was sweating so much that the blankets and pillow he laid on felt soaked. His body still hasn't slowed its shaking, his breathing was still uneven and labored. I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, not expecting the shocked, fearful, jumpy reaction I received back. I knew instantly that touching him was not the best idea. He was still lost in his dreams, in the memories that flooded his sleep, in the pain that accompanied it.

"Dean." I said quietly. Trying to pull him out of the state he was in, without startling him. "Dean?" I said a little louder. He was still lost, lost in his past. Lost in the hurtful memories that plagued his mind. I repeated his name a couple more times, with no response. He was awake but he wasn't present and the moment. I waited a few short moments and attempted to call his name again.

"Dean, man, come back to me." I said as I placed my hands on both his shoulders, giving him a slight shake, holding him still when he tried to jump away from me. I had positioned myself so I was seated in front of him. He lifted his eyes to meet mine. He had a blank stare, eyes that were full of pain and fear. As he continued to make eye contact with me I could see him coming back around, pulling out of the state he had woken in. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to regain himself, trying to understand what was going on, trying to blink the confusion away. Once I knew he was mostly back to himself I attempted to help him understand what was going on.

With my hands still on his shoulders I spoke, "Dean, you okay man? You back with me?"

The expression on his face told me he was, told me he was back with me enough to not know what had happened.

"You had another nightmare." I said gently. "You woke up screaming. You were still lost in your dream. It took me awhile to get you back around."

I waited for him to soak in the words I had just said as he began to understand what had happened, began to remember his dream, began to become more comfortable with the situation.

"You good now, bro?" I asked, knowing he wasn't but wanting to get a response from him, trying to get him completely back to reality.

He slowly shook his head yes as the confusion began to sink away. He tried to lay back down, but was shocked, and confused again, to find the place he was lying, soaked in his sweat. He swiped his hand through his hair, feeling the sweat that remained. He wiped his hand down his face, drying it the best he could. His hands still trembling. His breathing not completely back to normal. His eyes still lost.

"Dean." I repeated, trying to keep him from slipping back away. "DEAN!" I shouted at him, noticing him less aware of his surroundings, again. "Dean, talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours? What were you dreaming about?" He blinked a couple times, bringing himself partway back, "Dean, talk." I said in a demanding voice. I didn't mean to sound so much like Dad, but I needed him to talk to me, to stay in the present world, with me.

"I… I was 12…" he started, "I was 12 years old." He paused. "When… when… when you left, it wasn't ttthe… it wasn't the first time." Another pause, I could tell he was slightly coming back to reality, but at the same time he was slipping into the reminiscing of the past.

"What do you mean, Dean? What wasn't the first time?"

I wasn't sure if I was prepared for the answer, knowing what happened the night I left. He looked up at me, puppy dog eyes, scared, looking so tired, so exhausted, exhausted from life, from the pain he had been dealing with for so long.

"You… you were… Dad let you stay with Bobby." he finally got some words out that made sense. "I… I don't think… Sammy, I don't think you ever knew him." The fact he said my name, I knew he was aware of his surroundings again.

"Who?"

"I… I don't… I can't…. he was one of… ummm… one of Dad's… they hunted… together… sometimes… he wasn't very good. I don't know how he survived." He stopped to wipe the tears coming from his eyes. I didn't interrupt anymore, I let him take his time. He continued, "I was 12 fucking years old! Sammy, 12!" I could hear a hint of anger in his voice. "Dad… Dad didn't give a shit…. Sammy, he didn't care… he… he… enjoyed it. Dad fucking enjoyed it!"

I was a little confused, wanting to ask him to clarify, but I didn't want to interrupt him, or push him further than he could take. "We… we were… we had gotten a room. We just finished a stupid hunt. We… all 3 of us… settled in the room… with drinks… they got so… drunk... I was used to it, Sammy, I was used to Dad's drunk… not… not his… not…"

He trailed off, catching his breath that had become labored and uneven again. "He… Dad… he was showing off… I guess… I don't know… I really don't. He thought it was funny, they both did. Dad was going to show off how well I was trained." Under his breath, barely audible he added, "sadistic son of a bitch".

I sat, paying close attention to every word he said, but also to every movement he made, every sign I could think of, making sure that I could notice if he was being pushed over the edge while he spoke. "First… first… he… he told me to take a shower… when we got back from the hunt. I did. I did what I was told. I didn't close the door. I had learned to never close the door with Dad around. It prevented his sneak attacks. When I… when I finished… my shower… I stepped out of the tub…and… and they were both… standing there, in the room. Dad, he… he grabbed me by my arm and pulled me out of the tub, he dragged me into the other room. I... I didn't know what was going on, I promise you Sammy, I didn't know."

He wanted so badly for me to understand he really didn't know, he wasn't to blame. He only did what he was made to do, only did as he was told. He didn't want to, but he didn't have a choice. I wasn't sure if he was really trying to convince me of that, or himself. I already understood that. I understood it better than he did.

"At first… he… he told me to stand… to stand in the middle of the room. He told me to not make a sound. That was always a sign that he was going to play one of his games, 'don't make a sound until I make it so bad that you don't have a choice' games. I hated those. I hated the way he was. He told me to stand in the middle of the room, naked, I couldn't get dressed. He… he wouldn't allow it. Not even my boxers. I… I had to stand with my arms raised as far as I can… as far as I could… in the air. I had to… I didn't have a choice. He… the… Dad's… I can't say his name, Sammy, I don't know why, but I can't." he was so confused on why he couldn't say it, it was just a name, just a word, but he couldn't get it to come out.

"It's okay." I said, quietly, reassuring him that he was doing just fine and the name didn't matter.

He continued, "He started with his belt, God, I hated that thing! He whipped it across my body, over and over and over. Daring me to move, daring me to acknowledge any pain at all. Then…. He, the asshole, he sat there, laughing, he… it was like he… thought it was funny or something. He volunteered to take over… helping Dad, so he wouldn't get tired. He… he got his own belt… he stood on the other side of me… they both… hit… me… together."

He had paused to catch his breath again before continuing. "I couldn't take it anymore, Sammy, I couldn't… it hurt… so bad! I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stand… I couldn't stand there… anymore. As soon as my arms dropped, the rest of my body followed. They… they didn't stop... I laid on the floor, curled up…. Trying to protect myself, I couldn't protect myself from them, Sammy… I couldn't." Tears were flooding down his face, his body shaking uncontrollably. His breath uneven and labored, he was fading away again. I wasn't completely sure if that wasn't a good thing, maybe it would ease his pain? But, maybe it would make it worse?

"I… I don't know… I guess maybe… they got tired of hitting me… Dad had sat on the bed, drink in hand, pulled his pants to his ankles… it wasn't the first time. He… he told me to… to use my mouth, not my hand… I hated that. I hated doing that. But I didn't have a choice, Sammy, I didn't have a choice. I did what Dad wanted. I gave the show to… well until he joined in… he pulled me off… off Dad, his pants down too. He wanted… I had to… if I didn't Dad would have beat the shit out of me. He would have. Sammy, he would have… I don't know which would have been worse… or better."

The shaking of his body calmed, his breathing evened out, all emotion left his voice. He had quiet stuttering over his words, simply stating facts, like he was telling a story about someone else's life. Zoned out into the world of memories. "While I was doing what he wanted, he asked me if I had ever had sex, ever experienced an orgasm. When I shook my head no, I remember his words exactly, he sounded happy he said, 'we are going to turn this boy into a man'. He told me to lay on the bed. To stop what I was doing and lay on the bed. He started doing the same thing I was doing, only he was doing it to me instead. He started feeling around, I could feel the pressure he was pressing. He slipped his finger inside, not stopping what he was doing. The pain was worse than I could have imagined. I kept telling myself it was only a finger, it wasn't that big, but somehow going in hurt worse than anything that could have come out."

It was clear he had completely lost himself in memories at this point. "He told Dad to come over, to join in. He… he told me to fuck him. I put myself inside of someone for the first time, he used his hand to finish himself off while I had my first sexual experience. He had Dad use his finger in me. Dad's hands must have been bigger, or I was just sore, because it hurt a lot worse when Dad joined in. Then it hit, Sammy, it hit me, I didn't know what was happening. It hit me out of nowhere. I started trying to hurry up, make it over with. Faster and faster. The feeling overwhelmed me. I had my first orgasm, Sammy, my first! Every muscle in my body tightened, even the muscles around Dad's finger, God, the pain, mixed with a good feeling. I can't explain it. He… he finished himself off after I had. He… then he…"

Dean had started stuttering again. He was starting to come back around, starting to regain emotion in his tone. "He… pulled himself away… then… then he grabbed me and pulled me away from… from Dad, I didn't even have time to register the pain from being pulled away… he threw me on the ground… I remember… I remember my head hitting the metal rail of the bed frame… then Dad… he grabbed my arm and he… he dragged me across the floor and he, he made me sit… I had to sit on the hard-wooden chair. He knew, Sammy, he knew how much it would hurt. He didn't even give a shit. He… not Dad… J… JA…"

He tried but he couldn't get the name out. "He… asked me the same thing you did…" he paused, feeling the emotions rising, wiping at the tears that were flowing freely. "Sammy," he looked at me, puppy dog eyes, pain filled. "Sammy, he asked me the exact same thing you did. 'Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy being a girl?' I didn't know what to say, Sammy, I didn't know what I was supposed to say, what they wanted to hear. When I didn't answer him, he slapped me across the face so hard I flew off the chair. I remember my head hitting the edge of the dresser then bouncing off the floor. I don't… I don't really remember anything else. I don't know what else happened. I remember them yelling and hitting and kicking me a few times."

I don't think I have ever seen my brother stop to wipe tears so many times in my life. "I don't know. Sammy, you can't imagine the feeling of not remembering, not knowing, if anything else happened, with someone like that… there... I don't know. The next thing I remember. I was dressed, I was in the front seat of Baby, with Dad, driving. I don't remember anything else, I don't remember where or how I woke up in the morning. I don't know if I laid on the floor all night." He stopped, he was shaking uncontrollably again, his breathing not normal. He was still rocking himself back and forth in the spot he sat. His knees pulled to his chest, just rocking, crying. He still had more to say, more he wanted to say. I could tell, somehow, I just knew.

"And then what?" I asked, trying to get him to say what went unsaid. What do you remember next?" I asked, then waited for him to calm down enough to answer.

"He… Dad… he told me… he said, 'just because I'm not around [doesn't mean your training is over'.

"What does that mean?"

"He… he told me that the training he gave me, the stuff he did… to me… that I needed to keep up the training, even when he wasn't around."

"Dean, what does that mean?" I asked again.

"He told me now that I was a man instead of a boy, yeah, like I've had the chance to be a kid, anyhow… he said that the things he did was to strengthen me. He told me a few different things, different ways…" He stopped for a long pause. "Sammy, what do you… do you know anything about… about self-injury?"

I was shocked by Dean's question. I knew a little about a lot of stuff. But, what did his question have to do with him? "I know a little." I replied.

"Sammy, he told me ways, to… to hurt myself… to… to cause pain. Like he would… if he was around… some of it…well the… some of it the same way… the same pain… they caused… at the motel. Some different ways. Ways so no one would know. Not even you, Sammy." He stopped, not sure what to say after that. I wasn't even sure what to say after that. Dean self-injured?

"What the hell man?" I said, not expecting to say anything. I wasn't upset at him, well I was, but I could understand, I could understand where he was coming from. Dean looked at me when I accidently said something. He had a look of shame, guilt. A look that said, 'I'm sorry'. A look I never want to see on my brother's face again. He was filled with so much shame, so much shame of the pain he has experienced.

"Sammy," he finally said, "my first experience was with a man… a man! I tried so hard, after that, to prove I wasn't gay, to prove to myself that I didn't like guys. I don't know why. I never liked guys, not that way. I hated the way it felt. I hated everything about it, I just had to prove to myself that I didn't want a man. I think… I think that's why I've always…I've always been so, free, with the ladies." My God, he made sense. It was all making sense! Everything he had been telling me, everything he experienced in life, it was starting to come together, starting to make sense.

"Dean," I said after a long break of silence.

"Yeah?" he answered, followed by "Why does it seem you have been saying my name so much? And I follow it up with 'yeah'?"

I chuckled at him, knowing he was right. "Maybe because I think your name is so adorable, and you find a need to reply back, knowing I'm right." I said in a playful tone, giving a light slap to his leg.

"Yeah, right, you just wish you could be as adorable as me." Dean said with a quirky smile and sarcastic tone.

The quirky smile and sarcasm that I was used to from my big brother. I had just noticed that the day was more than half over. Where had time gone? We have talked a lot. Dean has talked a lot. He has opened himself up more in the past 24 hours, made more sense than I could have possibly imagined. There was a lot. A lot of pain that was let go of. After weeks of hardship, weeks of poking around my brother's brain. Everything was finally coming to an end. Everything was beginning to make sense. The pieces were falling together. Opening my eyes. My life was making sense.

"Thank you" I said. Dean looked at me a little confused. "Thank you for talking to me, for helping me." I continued, "I felt lost, I felt like my life didn't make sense, like I was missing something. You have helped me put the pieces together, helped me make sense of my life, of our life. Dean, I understand. I can honestly say I understand now. Or, at least, I'm starting to really understand. So, thank you."

Dean seemed a little shocked, shocked that I thanked him, shocked that I could honestly sit here and say I truly understood. He straightened himself out, regaining his composure, the brother I knew shining through again.

"Well, then, since we are done with this chick flick moment, how about you say we go get something to eat? Bitch." he said as he stood to prepare himself for food. I quietly agreed. Glad to have the brother I knew back, but also glad to know him a little better than I ever have.