𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹 - a Supernatural Fanfiction

chapter 6

pain

Blinding pain was my alarm clock. I opened my eyes, gasping so no one would know how much pain I was in. Somehow I remembered everything as soon as I opened my eyes, my head aching, ribs and side shrieking. Gulping for air that only made my suffering from the stabbing and punch more agonizing, I stared around the room, my eyes wide with terror and anguish. It was wrong, all wrong, and impossible. I caught Sam's eye as he said something to me. The pain was so bad, it took over my senses, squelching my hearing as well as most of everything else.
I started to black out again. 

    

I woke up in a hospital bed, or I assumed it was a hospital bed. The walls were white, floor white, bed, you guessed it, white and everything smelled clean, but so clean it was pungent. I began to twist my head, but a dull throb prevented it. 

Reaching my hand up to my head, I felt a  thick bandage, possibly with stitches underneath. From what it seemed, I was in very bad condition, my head felt as though it had bled badly and some of my ribs must've been broken. What worried me most was that I was dead, that Nat and I would never see each other again and I never could've kissed Sam. Out of all that, out of life itself, kissing the hunky, younger Winchester made my list. 

That's when I tried to sit up. 

A sharp pain shot through my body, pulsating with heat and warm moisture. I let out a yelp, clutching my right side as the sticky blood soaked my hand. No doctors had stitched it yet for reasons unknown, and it seemed worse. More pain tortured me, firing throughout my body, my side full of intense affliction. I gasped, fighting the urge to scream. My monitor started to beep uncontrollably and nurses and doctors rushed in. 

Determined not to pass out again, I struggled to breathe. It wasn't the throbbing pain of broken ribs, no, this was the knife's doing, I knew it had to be. The knife I had been given, with the special markings had hurt me.

For some reason, my injuries were never severe, no matter how bad they seemed. My parents attributed it to a high tolerance to pain and my body being quick to heal itself, but I never had an injury last longer than a day. That wasn't just quick healing, that was miraculous. Once, I sprained my ankle and was rushed to the hospital. Upon reaching it, I wasn't in pain anymore and the doctors mocked my parents for wasting their time on a child in peak condition. My ankle had made an inexplicable recovery. It wasn't my parents making it up or me pretending, I really had hurt myself, but somehow I could heal myself incredibly quickly. That was when we found out, my parents and I. And although my parents thought it was, I knew that it wasn't really a blessing, it would complicate my life forever. 

But there, in the hospital bed, I was still in pain, I was still bleeding. It was impossible. My entire past had shown this simply could not have happened. But it was happening. Somehow it was tied to the knife, and my biggest questions, though I had others, were: what did that mean for me? How was I able to heal quickly yet being stabbed with that knife was enough to seriously injure me? And how did the demon know, unless it was simply blind luck?

All I knew was that this mess with my family, with Natalie, and with the Winchester's had started me down a path I didn't want to travel. It was messy and complicated and, due to it, I was now stuck with horrible and painful injuries for the first time in my life. I wanted to go back, go to a time before Natalie was taken, before my mom and brother died, before my dad died, before any of this. When I was young and all I did was school, play with Nat and Jason, sing and write songs to my heart's content, play sports and be, relatively, normal. 

I missed it all and this pain brought my other emotions back, the ones I had buried deep down. I tried not to make a noise, but as the blood seeped down the bed and the hospital staff surrounded me, I squeezed my eyes shut, tears welling in my eyes, but none falling as if they couldn't. Someone stuck a needle in my arm and I opened my eyes, looking at the bag of fluid next to me. The agony dissipated as I slipped back into the sweet, feeling-less world of darkness. My newest and closest friend so far welcoming me into his arms, enfolding me in the dark.

Memories and dreams swirled through the blackness, floating around as if they were taunting me. Every time I reached for one, for a familiar face, a peaceful place or anything else, they moved just out of reach. I saw Natalie again and I tried so hard to take her hand, to bring her back, but she simply smiled and was pulled away again into the dark.
I wanted to wake up, I hated this, but I knew that when I'd wake up I'd be in pain once more. Feeling full of hopelessness, I finally tried to cry out, but no sound was uttered. That's when I saw it. 

As if out straight out of a story about utopia, a warmth and peace spread throughout me. The darkness became light, not harsh light, but the warm, soft light you imagine paradise will be filled with. I didn't feel pain or anger, sadness or hopelessness, all I felt was home. I started to figure out what it was and that made me feel even lighter. 

Heaven. 

It seemed like I was floating closer to the source of the light and I reached my hand out. I wanted to go there and feel this joy forever, but a sudden thought shocked me from my musing: I'm dying, because this is heaven. Pulling my hand back, I remembered my mission, my family, the Winchesters, and I knew I couldn't and wouldn't leave them yet. 

The light grew fainter as I tried my hardest to not die, fighting with my brain and heart, telling them to not give up yet. I didn't know if it helped, but I had gone back to the black emptiness. It wrapped around me and I just let go, not caring about the weight of the world I seemed to feel, only knowing I had to endure this, at least for a few more days. 

I'm not going to die yet, Nat. I thought. I'm coming back to save you