Dinner at 3 (Destiel AU)

14

          Where was I?
          I think I was on the road near my house that She used to live on.
        I think about going to her house for a moment, I think about confronting her. Then it hits me. She doesn't want to see me.
And also there's the fact that I should get home asap due to the large amount of blood caked onto my face.
        Reality starts to slip through seems in the fog that was created during my adrenaline rush and before I know it I'm aware of my own existence. I'm aware of the fact that I just burned a hole in a kids hand with a cigarette. That I could be sent to jail. So I do the only thing I know how to do:
        Run.
        I run faster than I've ever run before. My heart pounds on the inside of my chest like a heavy base drum. Some how some way my brain is running faster.
I'm at my house within the minute, my chest heaving heavily with each breath.
I fumble for my keys in my pocket for several moments; I didn't realize till now how numb my hands where.  

        I didn't realize till now how numb my head was either.

        The lock clicks open and soon I'm clambering into the kitchen and starting up the stove.  I quickly grab a pink mug down from the cupboard and plop a tea bag into it.  I stare at the kettle, waiting for the exact moment it starts to boil.  I think I sat there staring at the thing for several minutes before it began to whistle a high pitched shrill that stung my ears.

        The mugs warmth radiated under my hands as I carried it down stairs and sat on one of the couches.  I shook while I sat, shivers rippling up my spine and the rest of my body and I thought for a moment I might die.  If my mom caught me drinking down on her precious couches she would kill me.  She cared more about her furniture and her damn house than she cared about me.  It wasn't her fault, that's just the way her brain was built, the way it was  made.  And if she refused to get help for it it wasn't my problem.  She wasn't my problem any more. 

        I set my mug down on the coffee table and look at my hands.  They're caked with thick scarlet blood.  It looked like when I was young and I would mix water colors in a palette and then forget to clean it, and after a few days the water would dry up and all that would be left was crackly dried colors in the bottoms of the little bowls on the palette.  The blood was thin in some places and thick and sticky in others.  I was mesmerized by it in a way.  

        I was shoved out of my trance by a intimidating banging at the door.  This was it.  This was the end.  It had to be the police.  I thought  hiding but then the banging stopped and I heard a desperate plea coming from the other side of the door. 

"Cas, please, what's going on?"  It was Dean's voice.  "Cas, are you OK?"  His voice a bit louder this time.         

        I walked up the stairs and to the door, gripping the handle a moment, contemplating what to do next.  If I let Dean in, what would he say?

        I decided to make the right choice, I decided that for once I'd do something healthy for my self.  So I let him in.  I unlocked the bolt quickly and twisted the door knob, creaking the door open a sliver to reveal Dean shaking in the freezing cold.  His face twisted and contorted for a moment from fear to anger and then more fear.   He took  a leaping step foward and grasped my face, which stung for some odd reason.  It was the seering hot sensation you feel when salt gets into a cut.

        I turned my head to get out of his grasp and found my self looking into a mirror, a terrified, bloody, fear filled face looking back at me.  

Was that me?

No it couldn't be, people only look like that on tv and in movies, not in real life.  Not me.

I took a step back, letting Dean in the house and closing the door behind him.  He gave me this pity-filled look and took a step forward, gripping my face again softer this time. 

"Lets get you cleaned up."  

 A/N

Ugh, hello, yes.  It is I. 

Yes, I am alive.

Yes, I'm aware that you all hate me for not updating my shit.

Im sorry, but my mother is a pyscho.  

she took away my internet, computer and a shit ton of other stuff.

Actually a lot of shit has been going on in my life and im basically failing all of my classes because of how much Ive been skipping.  

I'm sorry that I havent updated and Ill try to as much as I can.

I love you guys alot.  

-ALLIgator