Chapter 5: Heal the Sick, Bury the Dead

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"Hey,"
Lizbeth gingerly looked up, attempting to silence her sobs. Sam was sleeping again, after hours without speaking a word. Dean was slowly dozing off. The source of the voice came from a fair haired boy who she recognized as John. She wiped the blood from her hands, but more just kept coming.
"What's your name?" John continued.
"Lizbeth."
"That's a nice name."
John was 12. He was barely older than her.
"Hey, Beth, try to get your hands closer to me."
She did. She manuvered her hands through the bars. John did the same. Their hands met in the middle, just barely.
John smiled, and closed his eyes to concentrate.
The pain in Beth's knuckles dissipated, leaving her smiling as well. Yet she bit back a scream when the cuts disappeared.
John ran his thumb over her knuckles, "You see? All better. You shouldn't have to be afraid of a fellow flock member."
Lizbeth stared at him, her grey eyes unwavering.
"We have to get out of here."

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