Three days.
Three damn days.
Three god damned days!
What the hell is even happening anymore?!
I haven't eaten and I haven't seen the outside world. Bobby and his antiques are beginning to drive me insane and I don't know what to do or how to say anything without hurting anyone's feelings.
Starving.
I want to eat something, anything, so dearly. Just to get something to make my raw throat feel soothed.
How long does this process take? What else is it going to take? The brothers and Callie have been nothing but a bore and I want to fight. I have so much pent up rage that I never even knew existed before my change.
I'm ready to leave. So I contemplate what exactly I could do with the eyes of a hunter constantly on me.
They all take shifts. Go out hunting, eat, watch me, sleep, and repeat. Hasn't that gotten boring to them. I know that if I sit on this couch any longer, I'm going to be swallowed alive by its cushions so it can digest me and make me one of its own.
...
I'm all but tired of Callie staring at me; her green eyes keep dancing around my face, as if to wonder why this concoction of theirs isn't working. It's too late! I want to yell it to them so badly, but my subconscious won't allow me. I feel like I'm trapped in my own body. A prisoner.
What can I do? What can I say to one of them? I just want someone to be swayed, finally, to let me go outside and get some fresh air.
What can I do to get sleep to finally take me over and allow me to relax. I want nothing more than to feel myself drift into some dream that I wish could be made real. Maybe even the sweet embrace of death.
I want to remember.
Shoes on the hard wood floor startle me out of my thoughts and I look up to see Dean is relieving Callie of her shift. His shirt sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and when he sits in the chair, he leans forward with them on his knees. My eyes never leave his as I watch the expression on his face twist from exhaustion to curiosity. He wants to know the exact thing that I've been questioning. Why isn't this spell working?
Bobby said that it would only take two and a half days. It has now been three.
"You know that results may vary with different people, right?" Dean jokes and leans a bit closer to the couch that I've learned to not complaint about.
I smile grimly and shake my head, "You and I both know that I'm not a person anymore."
He sighs and I can hear him grit his teeth. It's a nasty habit that I'm sure he's formed over the years, hunting being the cause of course. Nothing stresses Dean out more than an uncooperative monster, and that's exactly what I am.
"Cassie, princess, you need to stop thinking so morbidly," he mutters, "ever since this happened that's all you've been doing." He shifts back, uncomfortably and crosses his arms over his chest. He averts his eyes from me and whispers, "I miss the old you."
With that I could feel them forming; little pools in my eyes that are willing to betray my outward bravado. I didn't want him to feel like this. No matter how much emotional damage that he's inflicted on me, I would never wish the very same feelings on him. That would be low.
"I'm still me," I respond, instinctively reaching out for him. I just want to feel him, how warm he is and I want to smell him again. He flinches away for a second and then pulls me to him; once I'm on his lap I feel like a child. Dean is my armor that will protect me from the beasts in my head.
His nose nuzzles in my hair and he inhales deeply, "You even smell different."
It was less of a complaint than I expected and I just sigh; everything else smells different to me. The good outweighs the bad, of course, but then there is the everlasting grip of hunger that always reins me back in.
All I've had to eat in the past seventy two hours was some left over, way passed date deer that had been raw in Bobbys freezer; they tasted of burnt ice and bile.
I place my nose at the base of Deans neck and breathe deeply. He tasted so good the last time that I've never wanted him so bad in my life before.
"D-Dean," I stutter and clench my fists with the hem of his shirt balled up in them. It is insatiable, unquenchable.
He grabs me by the shoulders and looks me in my eyes through the dim lights of the moon-shone room. What is he thinking? Is he angry at my desperation? Am I really this far gone?
"Cass..." he almost begs.
Then his lips are on mine, moving steadily and gently; he's not afraid.
(A/N: hello! I hope you all have read my Rating Change update! It is going to be taking place in about 48 hours. I love you all and I want you to guess what happens next and tell me what you think about the direction that Thoughtless is headed in!
I'm sorry for the short update, but it's 4a.m. And I need to get some sleep!
I love you all!
~Nikki Xx ))