Supernatural Preferences & Imagines

➸ Skinny Love ➸ Sam Winchester

Trigger Warning: Will have anxiety, depression, mental breakdowns, suicidal thoughts and actions, starving ones-self. If you may be triggered with any of the things listed above please don't continue to read. You're now warned of the contents ahead.

Note: Listen to song before continuing because it sounds better; to me personally.

➸ Your Pov ➸

You slam your hands on your bathroom skin and your greasy unwashed hair curtains your face. You stare at your now crimson red hand and the shards of glass from the mirror stuck out from your hand. The sink's veneer is crushed under your hands from hitting it repeatedly with a hammer.

Salt is spread out all over your motel room and bathroom floors. Bottles of drunked, half-drunk and full bottles of alcohol are smashed into walls all around the room. Tears flow down your face and you're sure you've finally gone mad.

The monsters have finally come to take you to the crazy side. The salt didn't help ward them off. Their tainted black souls will grasp onto you and take you away with their soulless black eyes stare into your soul. Sinister smiles plastered onto their ashen faces as they strip you of anything you have.

You slide down the tiled wall behind you and shudder with tears. You choke out sobs with the little sanity you have. You rub over the slender paper cut like scars on your left forearm. The old memories of how the scars got there dance across your delusional mind once more.

You pick up a bottle on the ground that hasn't been smashed. You gulp it down and it doesn't fill the void in you you desperately want filled. The only one that has been able to fill those holes is gone. He is never coming back and all the things he healed you of is coming back like psychogenic amnesia.

Your weak and fragile hands try to bare the heavy bottle in hand but it's to much as it falls onto your stomach. Some alcohol spills out of the rim and stains your white tank top. You stare at the total mess you created; the outcome of keeping emotions in for too long. The outcome of letting someone in and then him leaving without you fighting.

The soft music of Skinny Love drifts throughout the motel room. You laugh hysterically at how true this is for you. You take another gulp of the whiskey and a sting erupts from your swollen throat. Your body starts to tingle and then you get a retching feeling in your stomach.

You rush over to the toilet and throw up the alcohol you drank throughout the day. The food that should be there is in the trash cans and fridge. More tears stream down your face and you know there is no point of wearing make-up anymore. All you do is cry anymore, so what's the point?

Your phone goes off like it did 10 minutes ago and you ignore it like you did 10 minutes ago. It could be anyone, you think as you grip onto the toilet.

You cling onto the wall as you push yourself up it for support. When you reach to your almost full height you start to walk to your unmade bed. As you walk over to the bed your weaken body from not eating gives out and collapses. You slam onto the now old carpeted floor and groan out in pain.

The thoughts of dying here on a motel floor makes it way into your mind. It's possible, your going mad and do one would believe you the demons made all those marks and bruises on you, which they did.

You hear your phone go off but your too tired and weak to get up to get it. The tune of your ring tone and Skinny Love flow together in harmony. Your mind starts to slip in and out of reality and your breaths are rugged. You see a note next to the trash bin and reach for it with the last of your energy.

You grip grasps it and when you look at it you know what it is. With your old crumbled up suicide note in hand you're ready to die. As the dark night sky outside becomes lighten by a sudden light you start to black out.