Fragile

Fragile XII

I'm sorry for waking you. I just...I didn't know who else to call and I remember you mentioning you had a brother going through the same thing and I just thought...thank you, Cas. No, seriously. I owe you one. If you ever...No, he's fine. Well, sort of. I'm freaking out here and- yeah, he's still asleep. I just...I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I'm losing him.

And I'm so fucking scared.

"Sam's worried about you."

"I know."

"He says you gave him quite the scare."

"I know that too," I said softly, staring down at the beige carpet beneath my feet. The spots were I stepped on were stained, the carpet that was once so clean now covered in dirt.

Another thing to add to my list of stuff I've ruined.

"I'm surprised you wanted to see me again after last time," I admitted, finally tearing my gaze away from the floor to look at the man sitting across from me. "I still haven't gotten the bill for that vase yet."

Dr. Wilson stared at me for a moment, seeming to realize my change in topic before he relented. "I tried to calling, but the number you put down was for this very sketchy massage place." My lips tilted up ever so slightly. "Yeah, I figured that was on purpose. Anyway, I wouldn't know how much to charge you. It was a gift. Hand made."

I frowned at that. "Do I even wanna know?"

"My wife made it for me," he stated and when I winced in response he chuckled. "It really isn't a big deal. She'll take any excuse to go shopping. Trust me." He winked before straightening slightly. "But we're not here to talk about my life, are we?"

I dropped my gaze again. "How much did Sam tell you?" I muttered. I felt his eyes fall to my hands, both of them wrapped in gauze.

"He gave me the basics," he said slowly, and when I didn't respond, he sighed. "Look, Dean, I'm gonna be straight with you. I wasn't surprised when Sam called me. I knew something like this was gonna happen. To be honest, I'm surprised he didn't call me sooner,  but that's beside the point. My point is, I'm here to help you. I get paid to help you, but I can only do that if you let me. I know our last session was hard and I know it brought up some uncomfortable memories, but your brother is worried about you. And the only reason you're sitting here right now and not in a hospital is because I told him I wanted to give this one last shot. So," he smiled, picking up his notepad from beside him and glancing down at it, "let's try this again. Have you thought about what I said last session?"

"Sort of," I muttered, then cleared my throat when he raised a brow in warning. "Sorry, it's just I try not to think about it," I admitted, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

He leaned forward curiously. "And why's that?"

"I don't know. I just don't like thinking about it."

"Because..." He urged and I twitched, resisting the urge to snap at him. While the doctor was nice, it was still hard for me to open up to a complete stranger. But he was right about one thing: Sam was giving me a chance by taking me here, and I'd be stupid to not take it.

"Because it hurts, Doc. It-it feels like I'm ten years old again and I hate that feeling." I watched him jot something down before glancing up at me again.

"And when you go back to being that ten year old boy, what comes to mind?"

"John," I said instantly, feeling my wrists start to itch again. They were sore from yesterday, the scars still healing, but it didn't stop me from scratching at my skin hidden under my long sleeves.