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Escape to Madness: Chptr XIII
A death in the Family
"Please, Val. You gotta wake up."
The high elf did not stir. Bellatrix bowed her head and pressed her face into her hands, tears dampening her palms.
"I'm so confused," she managed brokenly. "Gods Val, I'm so lost. I can't talk to anyone." The assassin lifted her gaze to her friend's pale, unresponsive face. "Not even Sh Sheo. Oh lords, I'm so stupid. So stupid."
Bellatrix pushed her fingers forcefully back into her thick hair and bowed her head, fighting back another wave of sobs.
"The way he makes me feel terrifies me," she muttered then, her voice faint. "Like there's fire everywhere and it's because of him. I don't like it, Val. I don't like being so surrounded all the time. I'm trapped. I flew out of one cage and right into another, that's what happened."
She drew in a forcibly even breath and turned her eyes to the ceiling to try and rid them of tears. Finally she managed to look back to Valania and watched as her friend drew
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
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