Black As Dreams
Title: Black As Dreams
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Kripke already broke his toys, I’m only playing with what he’s left.
Author’s Note: Set after 5x06. Warning for suicidal thoughts.
Summary: Surviving isn’t any easier the second time around.
The rustle of raven's wings and the angel was gone. Julia wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to hurl herself out the window and break on the ground beneath. It came back. It was always going to come back. She would never be free.
Her eye caught on the knife laying on her kitchen counter. Light gleamed off of the blade. She could see her hand picking it up, she could feel its familiar weight. Pushing it through her skin, through sinew and flesh, would hardly take any pressure at all. The red of her own blood burned the inside of her mind.
It would be so easy to take those few steps through the kitchen door, to lift it and be done. No more fear, no more panic clawing at the back of her throat.
She closed her eyes and breathed. As she opened them something white fluttered at the edge of her vision. She turned her head and watched the piece of paper softly settle onto her threadbare carpet. It laid there, waiting for her. Without thought, operating on pure instinct, she knelt and picked it up.
A symbol drawn in black burned across her eyes. She knew what she needed to do.
Fear skittered up and down her spine as she stared into the brightly lit shop. She almost hadn’t come here, fighting with herself every inch of the way. There were too many people, too many hosts for unseen evil. She wanted to be safe in her house, she wanted the world to go away.
Her fingers clutched the design, creasing the paper in the clench of her grip. She watched a woman through the window where she stood bent over a man’s shoulder. She could just make out the edges of the tattoed designs that painted the other woman’s back, swirls and lines that peeked out from underneath her tank-top.
Julia's hand rested over her sternum, memory of what those other, those hunters, had said a continuous reel in her head. If she did this she’d be safe. She’d never lose herself again.
She drew in a deep, rattling breath and stepped up to the door. Maybe, finally, she’d be free.
~~~
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Kripke already broke his toys, I’m only playing with what he’s left.
Author’s Note: Set after 5x06. Warning for suicidal thoughts.
Summary: Surviving isn’t any easier the second time around.
The rustle of raven's wings and the angel was gone. Julia wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to hurl herself out the window and break on the ground beneath. It came back. It was always going to come back. She would never be free.
Her eye caught on the knife laying on her kitchen counter. Light gleamed off of the blade. She could see her hand picking it up, she could feel its familiar weight. Pushing it through her skin, through sinew and flesh, would hardly take any pressure at all. The red of her own blood burned the inside of her mind.
It would be so easy to take those few steps through the kitchen door, to lift it and be done. No more fear, no more panic clawing at the back of her throat.
She closed her eyes and breathed. As she opened them something white fluttered at the edge of her vision. She turned her head and watched the piece of paper softly settle onto her threadbare carpet. It laid there, waiting for her. Without thought, operating on pure instinct, she knelt and picked it up.
A symbol drawn in black burned across her eyes. She knew what she needed to do.
Fear skittered up and down her spine as she stared into the brightly lit shop. She almost hadn’t come here, fighting with herself every inch of the way. There were too many people, too many hosts for unseen evil. She wanted to be safe in her house, she wanted the world to go away.
Her fingers clutched the design, creasing the paper in the clench of her grip. She watched a woman through the window where she stood bent over a man’s shoulder. She could just make out the edges of the tattoed designs that painted the other woman’s back, swirls and lines that peeked out from underneath her tank-top.
Julia's hand rested over her sternum, memory of what those other, those hunters, had said a continuous reel in her head. If she did this she’d be safe. She’d never lose herself again.
She drew in a deep, rattling breath and stepped up to the door. Maybe, finally, she’d be free.
~~~