The angel I ruined. (Castiel x male reader OC |NSFW|)

Chapter 20: "Haunted Dreams, Healing Words"

Where am I? The place is lit up by bright, flickering lights that give off a cold vibe. As I look around, I see metal tables nearby and rows of drawers against the walls - a pretty chilling sight. The air smells weird, kind of like a hospital, and there's this eerie silence hanging in the room. Is this the morgue?

I awaken in the morgue! What's happened? How did I end up here? Hey... Is anyone out there? I can't seem to move.. Somebody, please? Help!!

I find myself on the operating table, yet I'm disconnected from any sensation in my body. Am I no longer alive? Do my words even have a voice?

"Hello, Doctor Joseph."

The voice is oddly familiar. I'm not alone.

"Do you remember me?"

I shift my gaze, struggling with my blurred vision.
"Linda?! Is that really you? I thought..."

"You believed you had killed me, didn't you? Turns out, you're not the only one with hidden tricks to their pocket."

"I didn't... It wasn't... I mean..." My thoughts are racing, my mouth went dry. All the regrets and guilt flooded back.
"You were a monster..." I finally manage to breathe out.

"A monster no more, correct? That's the narrative you're repeating yourself to maintain your sanity, but deep down, you're well aware that you're just as much a monster."

She's right, I'm not terrified. Completely defenseless, imprisoned within my own body, yet the notion of death leaves me more numb than anything else.

I think about you every day. Your warm smile and your goofy jokes come to mind. You were constantly trying to lift everyone's spirits. Seemed like life was a breeze for you, not a single tear of sorrow. But I ought to have known better, truly understood you, and seen through you. You were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You used to swipe my clothes, just typical roommate stuff, or so I thought. You'd even wear my cologne, always trying to blend in, trying to be one of the guys.

We'd spend hours chatting, day and night, about my own struggles - my fears of abandonment, my battles with depression. It never occurred to me that you were also grappling with something deep within.

I should have been more attentive, more aware. I should have tried to transformed from being part of the problem to being part of the solution, just for once. I failed you. I allowed you to take that fatal plunge from the seventh floor. In truth, it was my negligence and narrow-mindedness that gave you that final push. I didn't extend my hand, I didn't ease your pain.

It was always about how lost I felt, always centered on me. I wish I had recognized the suffocating feelings you had within your own body and understood how much my love could have meant to you.

From She to He you should have been and not from being to deemed. Your light will always be missed.

"I'm trying to make things right," I finally mumbled.

"You see, Doctor, you can keep 'saving' lives for a living, but you'll never be anything more than a person who destroys everything he touches. No matter the excuses."

Her face twisted into one of horror. It seemed almost inhuman now, marred by hanging flesh as if she'd suffered a severe accident - like something out of a zombie horror movie.

If this was to be my end, I oddly felt at peace with the idea, until she tightly gripped a scalpel - a poetic and ironic twist.

"Have you ever wondered how it feels to be sliced open with this, Doctor?"