Monster (A Supernatural Fanfiction) [1]

Chapter 24: "The therapist and the alcoholic."

    "You don't have to talk about it if it's too hard," Dean told her, pulling her closer as he continued to play with her blonde locks. Cassandra shook her head and licked her lips.

    "No. No, I need to. You told me about Hell and it's only fair that I open up to you," she replied. Dean nodded and let her continue. Cassandra would stop herself if it got to be too much and he knew that. "At first I just locked myself in my apartment. I wouldn't go and see Amber or Sandy or even Billy. They'd knock but I wouldn't answer; text and call but my phone was off. No one knew about the depression. I had hid it for almost three years...but then Jess died. That was when the voices started."

    Dean's gaze softened as he stared down at his girlfriend, his heart aching in pity. Cassandra paused for a moment, pursing her lips in thought as she stared blankly ahead. Suddenly she inhaled as if snapping back into reality.

    "I don't know why or how they started, but I just know that they wouldn't go away. I blasted my speakers and my headphones but they never stopped. I went out to a nearby nightclub with the loudest music there was—they were still there. I was going crazy and finally after two days I just...snapped."

    Cassandra lowered her head and let out a shaky breath and she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Dean noticed this and pulled his hands from her hair, reaching around her and taking her hands in his. Cassandra gripped onto him tightly.

    "It's okay. You don't have to continue," Dean whispered, resting his head on her shoulder and nuzzling his face into her neck as he pressed a kiss to her skin. Cassandra leaned into his lips, turning her head slightly so he had better access. His touch comforted her and she just needed a moment to recompose herself. "I shouldn't have pressed you on that topic. I'm sorry." Dean furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the blonde push up the sleeves to her black leather jacket. It was just bright enough for Dean to make out all of the scars that coated her skin. He had yet to notice them, but it was probably because most were faint. His gaze locked on two in particular, one on each arm. They were ugly and ran vertical, reaching from her elbow to the edge of her palms. "Cassy," he whispered, lightly tracing over them with his thumb. She sniffled as a single tear slipped down her cheek.

    "I deadbolted the front door, locked the bathroom door, and took a razor that I had stashed in my drawer for...late nights."

Dean closed his eyes and held the blonde tighter as her body started to shake. He knew that she wanted to finish the story and he'd let her, choosing to comfort her as much as possible during and after.

"I was just in my underwear with the tub filled halfway...and I did it. It was deep. I should've died. All of the blood, Dean. I should've died. I wanted to die. The doctors called my survival a miracle."

Dean rubbed her forearm in an attempt to calm her down. It didn't work but she still continued.

"I flatlined on the way to the hospital and the moment they wheeled me into the emergency room I just shot up, alive and breathing. My wounds were already healing. They called it an act of God and I didn't have an explanation but I sure as hell didn't believe it was God because why me? Why save me? I'm nothing."

Cassandra hesitated before continuing, calming her voice before speaking.

"I wouldn't let Mom see me and Dad tried to visit but I was already in the psych ward by the time he got the news. They wouldn't let him in. I was still alone."

    Cassandra's silence—save for the uncontrollable sobs and sniffles every few seconds—told Dean that she was finished. Dean figured the rest of her suicide attempts went like that with the exception of the last one. The last one that he caused.