"I've been told plenty of times I'm a monster - it's time to prove them wrong. Even the devil knows that's a compliment."
Her friend was one of many to die at the hands of the Winchesters. Another splash of blood on their red stained hands. They di...
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The date glared at her. It was a number she'd never forget. It was seared into her brain, engraved into her subconscious, and coded into her DNA.
It was Celeste's birthday.
Her phone crashed to the ground, landing with a thud on the carpeted floor. She stared in shock at the wall opposite, decorated with photos and post cards, with inspirational quotes thrown in every now and then. How could she have forgotten? Her eyes moistened. She needed to get out of there, she needed to escape and just scream at the world. She hadn't felt the need to do that in a long while, and she had not missed the feeling.
Gently, Ebony lifted the quilt, sliding out of bed as quickly and quietly as possible. Cool air hit her bare body immediately, goose bumps rising up in retaliation. She moved her arms to hide the glass of her body, the fragile pieces that made her body a weakness, praying that no one would come into the room and expose her. Slowly she rubbed her hands up and down her arms in an effort to get warm, her eyes dancing around the room, trying to find all of the clothes they'd left scattered everywhere in their hurry to connect their bodies. Tiptoeing, she went to the corner where her underwear had been thrown without mercy, silently shimmying into them. Darting around, she found the rest of her clothes, tugging them on in a flurry and attempting to get to the door.
Creak.
Ebony froze in place, stopping mid action as she was roping her belt through the loops of her jeans. Her heart thumped wildly. She was panting. She was close to crying. She was close to breaking down.
Minutes passed, and Ebony still hadn't dared to cast a glance at the beautiful form laying oblivious in the bed, currently residing in the land of dreams. She didn't want to look, knowing if she did, she wouldn't be able to walk out of that door - she needed to walk out that door. If she stayed, she'd fall apart, and that was something she always did alone. If she stayed, she'd say something she'd regret, and in one sentence of words all of the temporary happiness she'd been given would be ripped away from her. If she stayed, she may unleash the anger she could feel brewing within her - and she didn't think she could fix things with torn thread and phoney plasters. They would be finished.
Forcing her eyes to focus on what was in front of her, she bolted to the door, fumbling with her belt buckle. The floor thundered and quaked, making noises of protest as Ebony got to the door, twisting the knob and fled out of it. Skidding to a stop, she waited outside the door. Gathering her breath, she kept alert for any sheets rustling, or squeaks from the bed. Moments later she knew that she was safe. Ebony was surprised that Rebecca had slept soundly through that ruckus, noting mentally that she must be a deep sleeper. She hoped that she would be able to notice that again.
Letting out a big sigh of relief, Ebony slowed down her pace, making a beeline for the door. The slower she went, the further away it seemed to be. Picking up her stride, she brushed her shaking fingers through her hair, trying to yank all of the knots out of their webs and make her hair appear kept. The task was fruitless, as when she'd successfully de-tangled one, her combing fingers would discover another.
