The Master's Tale - Abandon All Hope, Book 1, Part 6

Chapter 2 - Calvary's Here

2

February 11th, 2010, 4:47 A.M.

I sat frozen on the couch like a statue as I hugged the pillow close to my stomach, the blanket now having slipped down my shoulders and surrounding me as I stared at the floor and felt the fatigue and exhaustion finally start to settle in, all while my mind and body felt completely numb. I had done my best to remind myself over and over that I was going to get my son back, but it felt as if no matter what I did, the memory would come back violently and all I would see was a red pair of eyes glowing dimly in the pitch-black darkness and hearing her low voice in my head on repeat.

"He has his father's eyes."

I did my best to ignore the fear still present in my mind, but I could still feel it in my body, the blood still staining my legs and now dried and sticking to the rough fabric of the couch, and some of my hair still clinging to my face with a cold sweat covering my entire body in the chilly house.

"He has his father's eyes."

I was stuck inside my head as I stared at the floor, still being remotely present enough to hear the occasional sound of Sam and Dean's voices, sounding as if they were miles away and barely being able to make out the words from their deep and garbled voices.

"He has his father's eyes."

My mind finally slipped down the dark rabbit trail of thoughts that left me stuck on wondering what my own son's face even looked like, with the only clue being that he had Sam's eyes. But that would only lead me to my next thought, seeing the last time I looked in Sam's eyes and being reminded of the terror in my own chest, pulling me further into the loop and replaying the scene in my head from the beginning.

Dean's leg then flinched away involuntarily from Sam's hands as he sat on top of the dining room table, wincing slightly as he trained his body to remain still but still causing Sam to be reminded of the intense pain in his right hand as he held the needle with shaking hands.

Sam bit down on his tongue, feeling anger rise up in himself once again as he shut his eyes, clenching his jaw and snapping back at Dean, "Stop being such a wuss."

Dean furrowed his brows, shooting a look at Sam at the chair in front of him, "I'm not being a wuss. I just got chewed up by a freaking hellhound, for-god-sakes-"

Dean stopped himself, immediately recognizing the look on Sam's face as he sank slightly onto the table, "I'm sorry, Sammy, I know you're trying your best, but so am I? Okay?"

Sam furrowed his brows as he attempted to stop his hands from shaking, stretching his neck out slightly as he blinked and tried to focus, "Sorry-"

"And stop saying your sorry, Sammy. I get it, this sucks for all of us... You don't have to keep saying you're sorry?"

Sam glanced up briefly at Dean, remaining silent as his mind raced back and forth between everything he was feeling at once and forcing himself to remain focused on one task at a time, but even his well-trained mind was starting to crack and he felt as if he was running on empty; in every sense of the word.

The house remained silent for a long while when suddenly there was a light rapping on the front door that shook all the furniture still lying against it and snapping us all out of our spiral into madness.