Fallen

Chapter Thirty-Five

Dean's P.O.V.
     The world is empty without her. My world is empty without her. It's empty without her sitting in the chair in front of me in the library. It's empty without her always sleeping in my room despite having one of her own. It's empty without her fingers running through my hair. Because she knew I loved that.

     The world is empty without her ocean blue eyes staring into mine. Without her gorgeous smile appearing from something I've said. Without her beautiful voice spontaneously singing songs I never knew. Without her tiny knuckles for me to kiss. Because I know she loved that.

     I sometimes think of something to tell her, and only when I've already knocked on her door three times do I remember. Sometimes, I make a third plate in the morning. I always get the same look from Sam when I see the empty chair and realize what I've done. The look of pity and mourning.

     I know Sam misses her too. I know that every time I forget and do something for her, it hurts him. Which hurts me. I never mean to cause him pain. I never meant to cause her pain. I never meant what I did. I hate myself every day for my mistake. I see this mark on my arm and I just want to cut it off.

     I've tried.

     It hurt like a bitch every time, but it didn't stop me. And my efforts meant nothing to the mark. My skin instantly healed every time and the mark was there again. All 18 times.

     The mark itches and burns my skin. To remind me that it's there. As if I didn't already know. As if I could ever forget about that hideous, godforsaken mark burned onto my skin and branded onto my soul. My wicked soul. Hell isn't punishment enough for all that I've done. I deserve so much worse for destroying something so full of life.

     I've begged Zeke to bring her back. He always says that damaged caused by the First Blade cannot be undone. I wish that wasn't true. I'd give anything for that to not be true.

     This mark fills me with so much more rage than I already have. But it's not the rage that worries me. There's something else. Something violent. Bloodlust. Cain warned me about this, but I brushed it off. I'm such an idiot. How could I have been so ignorant? This very feeling is what killed her.

     We gave her a hunter's funeral today. I could barely stand it. Something about it didn't seem right. We should've buried her. We should've at least given her that. What she would've had decades from now if she'd never met me.

     I wish I'd been able to keep my promise to her. If she'd had her grace, maybe she would've been able to stop me somehow. Maybe she could've overpowered me.

     Sam tries to tell me the same thing she told me that day. That it wasn't me. That it was the mark. He says it wasn't my fault. But I know that's not true. It can't be. Not when I voluntarily agreed to take on the mark. If I hadn't done that, she'd still be here. Smiling, laughing, singing.

     Cas hates me for what I've done. That's okay. I hate me too. He's barely looked at me since that day. I don't blame him. I can't look at myself in the mirror either. I look into that mirror and see the face that killed the most beautiful girl ever to walk this Earth.

     Her face flashes through my mind throughout the days. The one I see the most is the expression she wore when I first told her I loved her. I was the first one to say it to her that really meant it. And I really did mean it. I loved her. More than I've loved anyone.

     Everything reminds me of her. That makes me sound like a sulking, sappy bastard, but it's true. Hash browns make me want to vomit. I can barely stand the sight of a salt shaker anymore. Who knew something so simple, so every day, could have such a big impact on someone?

I can hardly function without her. She was everything. Everything I could've ever dreamed of, and she's gone. I feel so lost. So alone. And I have only myself to blame.