Hello all, I don't usually do authors notes but everything considered, I felt obligated to write this one. I hope you are all staying safe and taking this quarantine seriously, I myself am out of school and have missed many opportunities but we must realize the weight of this predicament. Wash your hands, stay 6 feet apart, avoid contact and just be safe. I'm in a hotspot and I understand it's all scary but it is what it is,
Anyway, I hope this chapter can give you something to focus on, and I hope y'all enjoy it.
Stay safe
-Your Author
Chapter Begins here
WARNING
This chapter contain an in depth description of an anxiety attack, read at your own risk
Someone who'll bring some normalcy into my life and help me stay in touch with reality. That is something I'm curious about.
-Shahid Kapoor
With a grunt Belle quietly climbs the stairs, listening half-heartedly as Derek chatters seamlessly in the background. The apartment was nice, the huntress notes duly, she doesn't think she's been in an apartment this nice... ever. There was a noticeable lack of mold or cracked plaster and the air was light without the musty cling of cigarette smoke. It was quiet, another noticeable difference. Instead of loud arguments and sirens, the mysterious pop that could very well be a bullet ending someone's life, there was a hum. A hum of normalcy? As Belle trudged by doors she could hear quiet laughter, clinks of plates being set in a sink, the giggle of children being corralled into warm beds with stories of far off lands bellies full and cheeks pinked with rosy joy.
She didn't know how to feel about that, suddenly she felt a soft hand hover over her shoulder, hesitant, ready to hold her if needed but unsure. "Kiddo? You with me?"
"Yeah," Her voice rings out, loud in the lambent drenched hallways. Belle coughs as his eyebrow raised, "I'm good just," Her hand gestured dumbly to her head, "Lost in thoughts."
He nods, giving her a skeptical look, "I get that kid, you've had a long day. Anyways, this is my apartment, I'll give you the spare key later uhm," He smiles sheepishly as he unlocks the door. "I have another room, it's kind of bare. I use it as a guest room but I never have any guests so."
Belle follows the elder man through a cozy living room to a small hallway, eyes glancing to the photos on his wall, some of him with two women, sisters, she noted and an elder soft woman, most likely his mom. Derek turned toward her, his hand pointing to the opposite side of the apartment. "The uh, my rooms right over there, your room has a bathroom coming off of it, so you have your own." He trails awkwardly, but not uncomfortably. "I was hoping you'd come shopping with me and some of the girls tomorrow, maybe Pretty Boy too... pick up some things for your room some clothes." He looks to her, "if you want?"
The huntress bites her lip, eyes looking at the shut door of the guest... her room, then back to Morgan, "I uh, I don't have my cards yet."
He looks at her curiously, "what do you mean?"
Belle grunted, cheeks starting to warm in a manner that melted Derek's heart, it brought such a youthful glow to her otherwise mature complexion, "I have money, my bike, stuff like that. I have a friend bringing it to me."
Derek's eyes softened, "Kiddo, I dont expect you to pay for things." At Belle's confused look he sigh, gesturing to the living room. "Come sit with me for a second."
As they walked over Derek began to talk, both of them sitting on a black leather couch, the cushions sank around her, soft and luxurious, contrasting to the stiff and itchy fabric of motel couches. "You know that you're under my care now, right?"
Belle nods, lips pouted in a confused manor. As Derek watched her, he noticed her eyes turn to the door and windows, watching for an emergency escape if needed, it made his heart sit heavily in his chest. "Yeah," her voice startled him, " But I dont expect you to buy things for me."
"Kid, I have a job that pays well, plus, i get a cheque for fostering you to help with funds, and that's going to go straight to you. I don't need any extra money, and I don't know what you want to do with it, but you'll have it." Derek explains, his hands laying on his lap as he sits back on the couch, "and that isnt charity, before you even try saying it, that's the government, but even without that, food, clothes, all of that, that's something I'm happy to provide." The agent looks to her softly, "Do you understand?"
"Why?" She asks softly, her shoulders tight under the leather jacket she salvaged before she left, one of her fath.. Dean's old ones. "I just...?"
His kind eyes watched her for a moment, "Because I want you here."
Belle nods, a wetness building behind her lids which she fought to keep at bay. Her hands reached up to play with the tendrils of her hair that had curled toward the end. A clap startled her slightly, "Well," Derek said breaking the silence, "I'm hungry, do you want anything particularly for dinner? I was just gonna order take out."
The huntress shakes her head, "I think I'm gonna go to sleep, if that's okay?"
Morgan's eyes widen. "Ahh yeah of course, you must be tired, well, if you change your mind I have things to snack on in the house, feel free to raid the fridge and maybe next weekend you and I will go grocery shopping, pick out some things you like since you'll be here more often."
She smiles, "Yeah that sounds nice," she stands, her muscles aching against the pain, "I'm gonna head in now."
"Oh! Wait!" Morgan digs in his pocket pulling out two orange bottles and a cream of some sorts. "Your medication, uhh, you have to take this at least once a day." He hands her one,"then this one is at each meal...: he trails reading the one he'd yet to hand her, "And this is for your back..." He trails uncertainty. "Your back?"
Belle rolls her shoulders, "uh yeah he did a number with a whip." She states nonchalantly, grabbing the cream from him, "thanks."
"You have to reapply two times a day morning and night..." He looks at her kindly, "Do you need help?"
The teen shook her head, not feeling offended by the question like she would if someone else had asked her. "Nah if I can stitch myself up, after being shot, with dental floss this'll be a breeze." She laughs walking down the hall, Morgan laughing too before stopping.
"That was a joke right?" He calls, Belle not turning back, "Right?!" She just smiles at him and opens the door to the room. She walks in quietly, the room was warm and comfortable, there was a queen sized bed delicately placed in the center of the back wall, the blanket a seemingly generic but nice blue print that matched the decor, tables and furniture was scarce but still homely.
"It's like a fricken Sears ad," she muttered, placing her jacket on a small hook behind the door. Groaning as she stared down at her jeans in distaste. Quietly she walked across the hardwood floors to a door on the opposite side of the room, flickering on the light to the... her? Bathroom. The blue accents followed her here too. She grunted looking at herself in the mirror, pills and cream gripped tightly in her hand. Her eyes scanned the mirror her face staring back. Her skin was covered in yellowing bruises a mottled design of blues and greens with hints of healing. The dusty indigo tendrils of her lightening scar stretching over her cheek. Sighing she picked up her chin to see the cauterized wound that stretched down her neck.
"What have you done to yourself Winchester..." she trails, the pain in her back making her body ache. Grunting she slowly raised her arms and removed the borrowed clothing, revealing her spots bra and well everything. Old and new scars marked her body, an old bullet wound here, a fatal stabbing there... twisting her shoulders slightly her eyes caught the old bite marks and dips in her skin from past hunts. Muttering curses under her breath she slowly removed the bra, scooping a good portion of cream in her hands as she watched herself coat the lash marks. A whimper cut through her throat as the pain radiated with a heat like intensity. Another gasp of pain here and occasional 'sonavabitch' there and her back cooled with relief.
Well that was one hardship down. Re-dressing her back was hard but none of them re-opened on the way so, let's call it a win.
With a blush she realized she wouldn't be able to wear her bra again so she simply took an ace bandage and wrapped her chest loosely, not binding but decently securing the goods.
Hah, nice one Belle.
As she washed her hands and downed the medication her eyes caught themselves in the mirror once again flickering down to the brand.
The pink stretched across her chest, dipping from below her neckline and painting itself across her upper arms. The scar showing her individual feathers, her print.
It showed her.
Then she wasn't in the bathroom anymore, she was there. She was back.
******* See Warning*******
The stench of death clung in the air. Barks and howls pounded in her ears.
'Speak to me, Bluebird, don't please.'
A shot, where did that shot come from?
'Just hold me.'
Was it getting hard to breathe?
I'll always...
Who was that? Was someone saying her name?
Wings...
Then a ringing, pain so much pain, oh god she can't breathe, she can't. Shes dying what is that, why, whose saying her name?
"Belle, it's okay, you're in your bathroom, we're on the floor, its okay."
Belle? That was her right? Why were they saying her name?
"Its 7:00pm on Saturday, I'm with you, come on kiddo you with me?"
A shuttering gasp broke out of her chest, when did she get on the floor?
"Alright, okay, what are five things you see kiddo, come on pretty girl, use those beautiful eyes."
Derek, that was Derek.
"The..." Belle whines, choking on her words," an encouraging 'take your time, you got this,' was thrown at her. "The sink, the floor, my... my hands? The bed and uh, your hand?"
She felt Morgan nod beside her, his hands carefully enveloped around her body as to not irritate her wounds. "Now, 4 things you can feel?"
"Uh," Belle paused, "The tile, the carpet, my jeans and your hands."
She felt a shake, "Nice, you're doing great, next thing is three things you hear, what do you hear?"
Belle stopped ears straining, "The... heater?" Was that what that buzzing was, "the tv? And your voice."
"You're doing so good kid, last few steps, smell, what can you smell?" He asked, voice quieter than she heard.
The teen took a deep breath in, "Uh, the cream? And your cologne?"
She felt Derek's arms relax around her, "Now last step, what can you taste? This ones hard."
Belle's eyebrows furrowed, "Uhm, the pills, the chalky taste."
They sat in silence, breathing for a few more minutes before Morgan's hands fell from around her. "How you feeling kid?"
The huntress laughed shakily, "Tired, what the hell was that?"
Derek sighed, "A panic attack kid, it's okay, normal even, have you gotten them before?"
Belle nodded, "Yeah, I just didn't know that it was that..."
The agent shrugged, "Oh that's fine Bells, it's okay, do you wanna try standing?"
She nods, shakily rising to her feet, walking wobbling to her bed, letting the agent guide her. "Well," she hears him, "we have a big day tomorrow so you should get some sleep." Belle nods as he pauses, watching her get settled and making her way to the door. Pausing right before he left, "night kiddo."
"Good night Agent Morgan."
Feelings don't try to kill you, even the painful ones. Anxiety is a feeling grown too large. A feeling grown aggressive and dangerous. You're responsible for its consequences, you're responsible for treating it. But...you're not responsible for causing it. You're not morally at fault for it. No more than you would be for a tumor.
-Patrick Ness