Lines - A Destiel Fanfiction

Red

The house was silent. Everyone was asleep except the 16 year old kid called Castiel. Cas never slept, he couldn't no matter how hard he tried. He'd lie awake every night thinking miserable thoughts that were much too loud for him to even contemplate sleep.

His wrists were riddled with scars, fresh wounds produced from a shiny razor blade he kept by his bed. He didn't want to hurt himself but he couldn't stop anymore. A grim addiction. It quieted the thoughts that kept him awake. He'd pray for sleep to come but it never did.

In his quiet, sleeping house there was a barely audible cry. The cry of a boy who wished he could stop thinking, who wished he could just fall asleep like a normal human being. Who wished he was could just stop existing for a bit.

At 3:48 in the morning, Cas's bedroom was the only room still lit with a pale yellow glow. He wiped his tears away, frustrated at himself for being so pathetic. He reached under his mattress to be greeted with the cold metal of his razor blade. "Stop crying you weak little shit." He whispered to himself in a shaky voice as he brought the edge of the cold blade to his skin.

He breathed a sigh of relief when metal touched flesh and blood beaded up in the wound. Again and again he lacerated himself, manifesting all his inner turmoil onto his faultless skin. He stopped crying, soothed by the sight of blood welling up and the touch of the cold razor pressed into his skin.

After he was finally done he tucked the blade safely under his mattress, blood forming a crimson puddle on his sheet. "Shit." He whispered and he quickly tore it off his bed.

He rinsed his wrists off in the bathroom sink, the water turning an ugly shade of red, and returned to his room. As soon as his head hit the pillow he fell asleep for the first time in several days, his homework unfinished and tears still shining on his face.