When it Ended//Supernatural Fanfiction

1- Five Seconds of Never

There comes a point in life where we all forget something.

Memories.

Dreams.

Whatever it may be.

But for me, well, it's a little different.

Imagine doing something, okay, something great, huge, fantastic.
Now imagine all that being wiped away until there is nothing left.

Your brain knows that something is supposed to be there, but it is, instead, endlessly clawing at empty space.

Something that's always at the tip of your tongue, ready to spill out, yet, you don't know what it is.

That's how my life is right now.

Well, that's how my life has been ever since I woke up.

You see, two weeks ago, I woke up in a hospital with half of my memories gone. Three whole months of my life, wiped away as if there was nothing there to begin with. I was left, helplessly floundering in the depths of my amnesia.

Apparently, I had disappeared from a mental hospital from when I was placed there shortly after my mother died. But I don't remember any of it.

Small, broken memories, sometimes reaching the surface before sinking into its depths again and again. It was frustrating to say the least.

There is this song that, for once, I remember listening to, when I was still lived back home, before my life was turned completely upside down.

I wish I could wake up with amnesia.

and forget about the stupid little things

Well, now, I wish I could wake up without amnesia.

That once again, my life could finally make sense. That I wasn't stuck living at my aunt's house anymore, stuck trying to not be offended every time she looked at me like I was a piece of dirt that somehow managed to find herself in possession of.

If my life were Harry Potter, she would be Petunia Dursley.

Aunt Marge had thin, graying brown hair that she always pulled back in a tight bun, successfully revealing her receding hairline. Her eyes were a dark, beady brown, that seemed to bulge out of their eye sockets, giving her a strange resemblance to a pug.

She hated my mother for reasons I never understood, therefore, hating me even more, believing me to be the devil's spawn.

The day after I was discharged from the hospital, she appeared at the door, her lumpy body squeezed into a too-tight floral dress, giving me the distinct impression of a piece of play-doh stuck in a tube stock. Her dark eyes alighted on me in sinister hatred. Her thin, top lip curled in disgust.

"C'mon girl, I don't wanna' stay here longer than I have to." With that, she turned on her heel and stomped outside. Leaving me to clumsily gather my meager belongings and follow after, tripping on one foot in the process. By the time I had exited the room, Aunt Marge was already at the end of the hall. Motioning me to hurry up with a stubby hand.

She smelt like used cat litter, a smell that I began to become far too acquainted with every time she would pull me into a tight, strangling hug, to prove to the doctors that she was happy to see me again.

I was more than happy when we finally managed to get out of the hospital, and she immediately dropped the tight, fake smile that had been tackily pasted on her lips for the past hour.

"Let's go, I don't want to waste anymore money on you." And so, we traveled the couple of hours until arriving in Conway Springs, Kansas.

A place I had never wanted to visit again.