Home [Sequel to Shark Teeth] (Jean Hobbs)

Chapter 2

Dean's POV

He's back.

James is back.

I couldn't move.

The voices calling my name were muffled.

He's coming back to get me.

I stood up and sprinted out of the room, ignoring the calls from behind me. I ran up the stairs and into our bedroom, slamming the door.

I collapsed onto the floor in front of the door, pulling my knees up to my chest. I felt the tears slip down my face, but I made no attempt to wipe them away.

My eyes fell upon my bag that was under the bed... I leaned forward, tugging it towards me before unzipping one of the pockets and pulling out my old blade.

I let out a shaky breath as I pulled up my sleeve, exposing my wrist.

"Dean?" Jack called from outside the door.

"What?" I sighed.

"Are you okay?"

"No. Of course I'm not..."

He tried to open the door.

"Dean, please let me in. We need to talk."

I pressed the blade to my wrist.

"One second." I muttered, sliding the blade down, opening up a cut. I sighed in relief as I felt the blood trickle down my arm. I attempted to wipe the worst of it away before pulling my sleeve back up.

"Dean! What are you doing in there??" Jack asked, sounding panicked.

"Just give me a second." I sighed, shoving the blade into my pocket as I stood up.

I opened the door to be met by a worried looking Jack.

Without a word, he stepped into the room and hugged me tightly.

I hugged him back, burying my face in his neck.

"They'll catch him Dean, it'll be okay." He whispered before pulling away from the hug.

He looked down at the ground before frowning.

"Why is there blood on the carpet?"

I shrugged.

His eyes widened.

He reached out, grabbing my arm. I was slightly relieved that he didn't grab the arm that I'd actually cut. He pulled up my sleeve and frowned when he realized there wasn't anything there.

"Sorry, I just thought that you'd... You know..."

I felt a pang of guilt run through me.

"It's fine, don't worry about it." I mumbled.

I was suddenly aware of how much my wrist was bleeding as the blood trickled down my hand.

"The police can help us, you know? They can protect us."

I nodded, trying to focus on making sure the blood didn't drip onto the floor.

"Come on, we should probably go back downstairs." He smiled reassuringly as he grabbed my bloody hand.

He slowly pulled his hand away, looking down at his hand before looking back at me.

"Dean, what-" He cut himself off.

He grabbed my arm, pulling the sleeve up to reveal the cut.

Without hesitation, he pulled me by the hand into the bathroom and made me sit down on the side of the bath as he washed his hand and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. He kneeled down on the floor as he cleaned and bandaged the cut.