Being Broken (ON HOLD)

Chapter One: Welcome Committee

Chapter One: Welcome Committee

Dean's POV:

Eight hours and fifty-two minutes without her.

The clock on the opposite wall keeps harshly reminding me of exactly how long I've lived without her. It's of those big grandfather clocks that ring bells on the hour and half hour; it's hands going around and around even though I keep willing it to stop. The clock is standing right behind her, it's tall form looming over her fragile one. My eyes keep dancing up to it when I can't stare at her any longer, but that never lasts long because I can't bear not to look at her.

She looks so peaceful lying there, like nothing bad ever happened to her. From where I'm sitting, I can't see the gaping hole in her chest that I made and the blood looks like it's part of her shirt. The corners of her mouth are tinged blue, but that could always just be drool. She could just be dreaming. I wish she was just dreaming.

Taking a shuddering breath, I sit up a little straighter and glance around the room. I didn't realize Sam left. I guess he stopped wanting to have a one-sided conversation. The crumbling house I'm in is cramped, the walls much too close together and the doorframes uncomfortably small. It was the only thing for miles and I refused to drive back to the bunker with Addison dead in the backseat.

I drag myself out of my chair and slump over to the doorframe. I have to put all my weight on the wood because I can't seem to be able to hold myself up. I can see everything now—the dark hole in her chest I created, the way her limbs lay slightly crooked, the blood. I've done this a thousand times since we got here, but each time it feels like a hole is being punched into my gut and I can't breathe. I can feel the tears threatening at the back of my eyes and I choke them back as best as possible, but I'm far too weak to keep them away forever. It doesn't take long for them to win and for a fresh round of tears to burn my eyes.

I stand there for a long time, my blurry vision never wavering from her body. I want to walk over to her and scoop her up into my arms and force her to wake up—to come back to me. But the thought of even touching her when I know she can't feel me makes me want to hurl. She has been my everything for so long that it's hard to imagine living my life without her. She was supposed to live through this. She was supposed to be with me until the very end. I had all these plans for us, but now there's nothing laid out in front of me except for her dead corpse.

I need her. I need her more than the air I'm now struggling to breathe. I can't do this without her and the fact that I ever did seems ridiculous. I never imagined I would have to do that again, but now I don't have a choice. I wish someone would just come and tell me how I'm supposed to live in a world she doesn't live in because I have no idea.

I keep thinking of all the things I should have done when I still had her. I should have held her tighter. I should have kissed her more. I should have told her how much I loved her sooner. There are so many things I could have done and now I'll never get the chance. Maybe I should've taken her away the second things started getting bad. That would've been the smart thing to do. But I thought I alone would be enough to protect her. That obviously wasn't the case.

My hands are shaking as I remember the feeling of the angel blade pushing into her body and killing her. Everything happened so fast. I didn't even realize she was in front of me until it was much too late. I've replayed it again and again, watching her die in my head and hating myself more each time. But even though I know it will just make it worse, I can't stop myself from closing my eyes and going back to the moment I finally lost her.