The Piano Man (Destiel)

Chapter 1: The Attempt

At first he didn't hit me when mom left, only drank his life away even more than usual.

Then I told him of my interest in playing piano, he took this as my 'coming out' and got in my face, it didn't end in a fist fight but it did lead to him being more aggressive towards me.

He finally snapped when I didn't make dinner one night before he came home from work.

He wasn't totally drunk when this happened, he marched right into my room, my head was under the blanket, I was taking, as the kids say, a 'depression nap'.

He yanked the blankets off of me and shouted in my face, calling me many homophobic slurs and making fun of my body.

He threw me off the bed and kicked me as hard as he could I'm still surprised to this day he didn't break one of my ribs.

He threw punches, continued to scream for what seemed like hours and ended it all by spitting harshly onto my bloody face before walking out of my room.

He'd obviously been holding back for a while and let it loose on that night.

It continued through out the years since then, not always as bad as that night but generally just as violent and harsh.

These are some of the things that lead up to my attempt...

Well, I haven't attempted yet but as soon as dad leaves to take Sammy to baseball practice I'm gonna write my note, clean up my room, grab my favorite razor, and-

"Hey, Dean... We're leaving soon, can I have a hug?" A voice interrupts my inner dialogue.

"Sure, Sammy." I say, glancing over at the young boy.

Sam has abandonment issues because of mom and always insists on giving me a hug and saying 'I love you,' before going anywhere without me...

That thought fucking hurt because I am never gonna see him again... A year ago I wouldn't have left him in this world alone but now.. I can't handle living like this anymore.

"I love you, de." He says quietly, grinning at me as he pulls away.

"I love you too, Sammy." I say back, giving him a weak smile.

I know he's noticed my depression... my emptiness.

He mentioned it briefly saying sometime he felt the same, I told him to never keep it in and to talk to me anytime. I never- never want him to feel how I feel today.

He throws me another sympathetic grin as he walks through my bedroom door, leaving the room excruciatingly silent.

'I should really invest in a fan...' I think to myself, immediately pausing to cring. 'oh, wait... I'm about to die, why would I need a fan?'

I sigh at myself, waiting until I heard the front door close and the car doors open to prepare everything I needed to... well y'know...

I feel anxiety creep through my stomach, I know the longer I wait the more it would crawl up my chest and into my veins.

I take a shaky breath, my hands starting to shake as I sit at my desk and pull out a blank piece of paper and a pen.

I hear the trunk of the car close outside and the engine start. This is the last time I'll hear baby, the last time I'll sit at this desk, the last time I'll ever write anything.

I wait until I hear baby start down the street to write the note.

It's to Sammy, I'd leave a sentence or two at the end for dad but he doesn't deserve to be my last thought.

"Dear Sammy,"

I start, writing in sloppy, curly letters.

"This wasn't your fault, don't ever think that. You're the reason I lived for so long... The reason I kept on keeping on. Don't Blame yourself, please. I tried to stay strong, I did. I can't do it, buddy. I told myself it was selfish to leave you with that monster, but I can't do this anymore. My hands shake and I hear my heart beating in my chest. I can't breathe anymore. I'm so, so tired. I feel to much, or I don't feel at all. I don't wanna get help, I don't wanna try to help dad either... I just wanna go, just wanna be at peace. I feel like I'll never be normal after the life I've had.

I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so, sorry." I write, fears forming in my eyes, I really didn't want this to be dramatic but I'm about to die.

I'm about to die.

"You won't be alone in this world forever. You're the smartest kid I've ever meant. You have a bright, happy future ahead of you, and I'm sad to say, I don't... I love you, Sammy. Don't let dad steal your brightness from you like he stole mine from me.

I'm sorry, Sam.

Love, your big brother,

Dean. <3"

I have tears falling down my face by the time I finished writing my name. I try to avoid the paper as much as possible, folding it in half and writing 'Sam' on the front.

I put the pen back in my desk before standing up and pushing my chair in.

I pick up the clothes on the floor quickly, putting them in my closet and shutting the door. I make my bed and change into my favorite pajamas.

The shirt is soft and blue, the pants are red and black plaid,

I go into the bathroom and brush my teeth, looking at myself in the mirror one last time afterwards.

I frown at my reflection, combing my fingers through my knotted, short hair and splash water on my face before using a towel to wipe it off gently.

I try to smile at myself, this is a good thing. What I've always wanted.

Why does it feel so bad?

I frown, dropping my attempt at a smile and walk back into my bedroom, deciding to leave the door open. 

I walk over to my desk, opening the drawer and pulling out a little box that has a couple razors in it.

I opted for the good ol' fashioned down the wrist suicide.

It's gonna be messy but at least I know I'll be dead... Right?

I close the drawer after taking out my favorite blade, it's sharp, it'll be quick.

I sit on my bed again, breathing deeply and trying to dislodge the anxiety from my throat.

I take a shaky breath as the tears come back,

The shirt I'm wearing is thankfully short sleeved, so all I gotta do is...

I hold out my most scarred wrist. Looking at the jagged lines littering it.

I take a deep breath, holding the blade up, and looking up at the ceiling.

I let out a sob and press the blade into my veins, dragging it down roughly.

It makes me cry out loudly, the pain sharp, blood already pooling around it.

My shaking right hand switches the blade into my left hand, giving the same treatment to the other side.

I flop back onto my bed, still looking at the ceiling as my vision blurs. My breathing is uneven but the only thing I can hear is muffled silence. I let my lips part so I can breath better, closing my eyes and trying to let myself die.

I hear a muffled voice yell,

"DEAN!"

Before everything goes black.