Just a Chance

Is all hope lost?

They shoved me against the walls. Over and over, again and again. And when I would try to run, they'd grab me by the back of my shirt and slam me back to the wall.
"Going somewhere faggot?" They taunted me with their words but I tried not to let them bother me, because that's all I would hear; don't listen to what they say.
"Please stop," I whispered and a fit of coughs seized me from speaking again. They pushed me to the ground and I could feel the tears silently streaming down my face.
I could hear them laughing above me and suddenly I was overwhelmed by the burning pain of being kicked in the ribs.
"What's wrong? You stupid piece of homo trash!" and they kicked me again and they continued to laugh while I laid on the ground, trying to catch my breath.
I was suffocating.
I heard the click of a switchblade from my attackers and I was rendered helpless. I tried to call for help but my screams were silent. The sound of my heart beating and my blood rushing was the loudest thing I could hear. I couldn't even hear the laughter of my enemies anymore. And I never felt the blade being plunged into my stomach.
Only when I felt the blood pooling around me, I realized it was my own and I knew that this was it. But I was okay with that. There was no reason to stay in a place where you aren't accepted, in a place where everyone thinks you're an abomination. I'm tired and ready to give up, so I'm okay with it. I close my eyes and allow death to take me.
•
•
•
"Castiel. Castiel Novak, if you don't come out of your room and get ready for school in the next few minutes, I am coming up there and taking a shit in your bed. You better get up."
Great. That is something Uriel would do. Fantastic.
I let out a frustrated half sigh, half moan and pull myself out of bed. It was a dream. I go to my closet and pull out a soft, worn blue sweater and slip it on over my head. It was a dream. I walk over to the tall wooden dresser, pick out a pair of khaki pants then pull them on almost mechanically. It was... just a dream.
I let out another sigh and looked down at the floor. The day ahead was going to be dreadfully long, I just knew it, and the last thing I wanted to do was go to a hell called school.
And then I heard Uriel yell again from downstairs, "Do you want me to come up there and kick your ass?"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I muttered, more to myself than to Uriel. I put my shoes on, walked down the stairs and made my way out the door without so much as a goodbye to Uriel.
•
School, of course, seemed to drag on and on. All my classes passed as they normally would while I slept in the back of the room. I felt like I haven't slept in weeks. Maybe I haven't, I don't know but I wish I could stop having these dreams. The dream. I absently touch my stomach, to reassure myself I was never stabbed and checked my ribs to make sure I hadn't been kicked. I let out a mental sigh of relief. It never happened. (But what if it does?) Oh, no. That little voice is back, just like every day it comes back. (You know it will, everyone hates you and they're gonna hurt you for what you are). Stop please. Stop.
"Mr. Novak, are you gonna daydream all class period? Now answer the fourth question on the worksheet."
I look down at my paper. What is Fe on the periodic table? Easy, iron.
"It's iron," I say softly.
"Louder Mr. Novak, the class can't hear you."
"Iron."
"Good, now who can answer..." and I never heard the rest of the sentence, it was drowned out by the three guys in front of me, snickering and looking back at me. They were mouthing words like 'gay' 'queer' 'faggot' and making gestures at me. I looked down at my desk and traced the wood grain pattern with my eyes, just so I didn't have to look up.
The class seemed to last for hours.
I went through each class the same way, the same way as I did everyday: absentmindedly. Only when the final bell rang would I wake up out of my trance and bolt for the door as fast as I could without drawing attention to myself. Just keep your head down and don't make eye contact, I told myself, over and over. I weaved through and around people in the halls and finally reached the small alcove that contained my locker. I tried putting in the combination but my shaking hands continued to fail me. I sighed in annoyance and leaned my forehead against the cold locker. I stayed like that for who knows how long, a couple seconds, minutes? But in that moment I was alone and at peace for once, a strange feeling indeed. I basked in it, for that sensation was always short and bittersweet. And as I predicted, I was shoved against the lockers with my cheek digging painfully into the metal locker door.
"The locker isn't going to love you back, you stupid queer." Great. Just great. Please, not here, not now.
"Hey, fag, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf or something?" Someone grabs me by my neck and pulls me away from the lockers, only to shove me back, much harder than the first time.
The breath is knocked out of me with the impact. I gasp for air and I can barely make out the laughter behind me that sounds so distant and far away. I try reaching up to my neck to remove the hand holding me against my will. Another hand seems to come out of nowhere, grabs my arm and twists it painfully behind my back. Whoever is helping the one that has me shoved against the lockers slams my face into the metal. I feel the weird warm sensation in my naval cavity and then blood is trickling down from my nose. The thing about it was, about the whole situation, I couldn't even bring myself to care anymore. I was tired of the same old thing, and I knew this would never stop. I wanted it to be over but I knew I'd never be that lucky so why don't these people just kill me already? This isn't going to stop! It will never ever stop!
I closed my eyes and I was practically hoping one of them would pull a knife or something. But that never happened. No, far from that. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground. I could barely keep my eyes open. The one thing I saw before losing consciousness was the frayed bottom of jeans and some worn out boots.
•
Sometime later, I awoke to the sound of some sort of music. Rock, maybe? I think I had heard it before perhaps. I believe it was Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Metallica. Wait, that can't be right. I don't listen to this. Where am I?
I looked around frantically, trying to make sense of everything. Oh, no, am I dead? No, that can't be it. I felt and looked at my surroundings, the seat was like leather, i think. The walls... wait, no, they're windows. Am I in a car? And that's about when I started to really lose it. I knew for sure that I was going to die. Someone was going to kill me.
I began to hyperventilate and tried grabbing for the door handle when I felt a hand on my arm to still my movements.
"Slow your roll, man. Just take it easy. We'll be there in about five more minutes." His voice, it was like a soothing deep rumble. I turn my head towards the sound and... well I see a face I had never seen before. And he must have seen my shocked and confused face, because he let out a small laugh and smiled at me.
"It's Dean. Dean Winchester. And I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of meeting you." I stare at this Dean with what was probably a gaping expression and I was rendered speechless. He smiled again and when he did, his green eyes crinkled at the corners. It was such a small detail that someone may have overlooked but I thought that was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in the world.
"Can't you speak? Or you just not talkative?" he chuckled a bit and that sent weird tingles throughout my body.
"Uh.. I, um... I, ah.." Perfect. I can't even see use words. What is wrong with me.
"Hey, don't strain yourself. It's all good, dude. You took a pretty bad beating. You alright?"
"I, uh.. I'm not sure." I tried thinking back to what happened but all I could remember was being slammed into the locker.
"What happened?" I asked. I really wasn't sure if I wanted to actually know.
"Uh, well, you were getting beat pretty badly and I happened to be walking down that alcove. You know, you're lucky I came down that way, you seemed nearly dead when I finally got to you," he said.
"What happened to the other guys," I asked. I still don't remember much.
"Well," said Dean, "let's just say, I don't think those guys are gonna bother you anymore. And if they do, well, they got another thing coming."
We sat there in silence for a few moments and I examined him a bit more closely. He wore a dark leather jacket that looked as if it had been worn for a long time. And the jeans he wore were very fitting. I took close notice to the fact that they hugged his hips delightfully.
"Y'know, you aren't that discrete in looking over here at me, you know that, right?" Dean's voice interrupted me as I was looking at him.
I blushed deeply, and looked down at my khakis, playing with the material. I attempted to keep my breathing steady and I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and suddenly the car stopped. I glanced up through the windshield and saw a small house sitting in front of us.
"Won't you come in?" Dean suddenly asked and when I looked to him, a warm smile welcomed me that made me feel almost... safe.
"Okay," I said in a small voice. I followed his lead as he got out the car and trailed behind him to his door. My heart was pounding, was I nervous? No, that's absolutely ridiculous, why in the world would I be nervous about walking into someone's house?
And almost like clockwork: "Don't worry, everything is gonna be okay."
I looked up at him and his green eyes were like emeralds shining in the sun. I was enraptured by him. And the craziest and hardest thing for me to try and fathom was the fact that he was being so kind to me. I never deserved that. Never.
I gave Dean a small smile back and followed him into his home.
•
I sat in Dean's living room as he went and got a glass of water for me. I looked around the small space. A couple of magazines about cars laid around and a few framed photos with a man and a woman were set up on the end tables. I looked more closely at them, and could clearly see the similarities in all three. That must be his parents. At that moment, Dean walked in with the glass in hand and sat next to me on the couch.
"So I'm pretty sure I never got your name. Care to enlighten me or you still feeling like I'm some stalker?" He smiled again, to let me know not to take what he says too seriously.
"It's Castiel," I answered.
"Castiel. Castiel. Cas," he tried my name different ways, to find which sounded best rolling off his tongue. He smiled at me and said Cas over and over again. Throughout all of our conversations, he kept calling me Cas. Cas this, Cas that. But honesty, I did not mind whatsoever. I grew to love the sound of Dean's voice in that one evening and I wanted to come back the next day and the day after that. Dean gave me a soft smile and the way he looked at me warmed my heart and I couldn't help but smile back at him.
•
Dean drove me home in the late hours of the night. The way I felt with him... it was unlike anything I've ever felt before. It was strange, to say the least, and I didn't quite fully understand what it all meant. I did know that my dreams were pleasant, for once in my life, not the horrible nightmares that invaded me while I slept. Instead, my dreams were filled with bright green eyes and a deep, rumbling voice that lulled me to sleep.
I should have expected it. I should have known that something so amazing and blissful would never last. My happiness is always short lived. As I watched the excited green eyes and listened to the infectious laugh, it suddenly changed to two fearful eyes and a blood curdling scream. 'Dean,' I tried to shout but I had been shoved to the ground and was pinned by a crushing weight on my throat. I did everything I could to try and free myself, I had to save Dean, I had to. His deafening screams pierced my ears and, as if in slow motion, I watched his lifeless body fall to the ground beside me.
Time seemed to be at a standstill.
There was no sound.
Not even the beat of a heart.
And no words came out, except for the prolonged sound of helplessness.
"Dean," I whispered. The only answer I got back from him was his dull, lifeless eyes staring back at me.
•
•
•
I bolted awake to the shrill alarm clock going off on my night stand. I slammed my fist down on the clock to stop the aggravating noise. My body... it was covered in sweat. I lift myself out of bed on shaky arms and walk to the bathroom. I pull my clothes off while waiting for the shower to heat up. Without even meaning to, I start thinking about everything that happened yesterday. Class. The lockers. Dean. My thoughts stop there, at Dean. Did he... did Dean save me? That seems absolutely ridiculous. I mean, I'm not some damsel in distress by any means. I don't need anyone's help. I step under the shower spray and let the water run down my body before moving again. I take a deep breath and look down at myself. My thigh. I run my fingers over the freshly made cuts, and over the fading scars. My hand trembles a bit and I drop it to my side. I stay like that for a few more moments before I hear pounding on the door.
"You better not be using all the hot water in there! Hurry up and get out of the damn shower," Uriel yells from out in the hall and I quickly wash my hair and body, then continue to get ready for school. About twenty minutes later, I'm walking out the door and heading to school.
•
I usually walk to school, unless it's raining or something, since my house is less than a quarter of a mile away from the school. But unfortunately, the walk isn't short enough.
I quickly realize that I'm being followed. I pick up my pace and wrap my arms around myself. Don't draw attention, don't draw attention, don't draw attention.
"Hey, fag!"
Too late.
"Queer! Hey, homo, I'm talking to you!"
Someone pushes me to the ground and knock my books from my hands. I shut my eyes and try to block out their words and laughter. Then, I'm gasping for air as I'm kicked in the stomach. I clutch at my stomach, but that was a mistake; I take a kick to my face. I yell in pain but it's futile, I know no one will hear me, or care for that matter. One of the assailants lifts me from the ground while the other throws blow after blow to my face. My left eye swells and I can feel the blood gushing from my nose and down my lips. I hardly hear them laughing as they drop me back to the ground and kick me one more time in my rib cage. I try to catch my breath between coughs. I lay on the cold ground, alone and weak. I'm really not sure how long I laid there but I eventually got to my feet and headed toward the closest gas station on the way to school. I clean my face as best as I can but my clothes are ruined with dirt and blood. No need to cry over it, I guess.
•
I finally made it to school only to discover I had already missed my first two classes. Out of all the looks I got, no one ever bothered to ask if I was okay, which was typical. I think most people figured I was abused at home by Uriel, which isn't entirely untrue. He did abuse me, but it was mainly verbal abuse which I just attempted to ignore. That, of course, was difficult to accomplish but he was the closest thing I had to family, so it wasn't like I could just run away. And I probably deserve those words, just like I deserve all the beatings. I made my way through the school and to my third period class, English. That was the only class I looked forward to. English was my favorite subject and I didn't have to deal with the guys that beat me. No one talked to me, but I was okay with that. It was probably better that people just left me alone. I opened the door to my English class and everyone stared at me, silence filled the air. You could practically hear a pin drop. I quietly closed the door behind and kept my head down as I walked to my seat in the back. I didn't raise my head until the lesson continued, a few moments later. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. I hated drawing attention to myself, I always feel like I'm going to have an anxiety attack... I pull my composition book from the pile of books I laid on the floor but as I do, something catches my eye.
I simple word, written on the desk.
A three lettered word, one so small and stupid.
But I can't count how many times that word has hurt me and caused me to hurt myself.
I try to choke back the tears trying to spill from my eyes as I stare at the word: 'fag'. I can't escaped it, can I? This won't stop. Ever. I learned what they did to people like me back so long ago. Those people were killed, without so much as a second thought. And people made public displays out of them! They don't deserve that, they never did! What have we done to anyone to ever deserve this cruelty? (Well for one, what you DO is just not acceptable. That, and the fact that you're good for nothing). Shit. It's back. Please leave me alone. (No, Castiel, this isn't going to stop and you know it. Why don't you just kill yourself already? Wouldn't that make things easier? For you and especially for everyone else). But suicide... that's a sin. That's so frowned upon. I... I couldn't. (HAH! You actually think suicide is what will keep you from heaven? You've already sinned, for what you are. You're the last thing God would want in His heaven). I know, I know. But I can hope, maybe He will give me forgiveness. (I doubt that. You're disgusting and a disgrace to society).
"Stop! Please just stop it," I screamed out loud, and then I realized that wasn't in my head. Everyone turned and stared at me, even the teacher.
"Is something wrong with the lesson, Castiel," asked Ms. Milton.
I stood up quickly and my head swam with dizziness.
"N-no," I stuttered. "I just.. I need..." I looked around the room and my breath hitches as I realized everyone was staring at me, wide eyed. I began to hyperventilate and I couldn't catch my breath. I coughed and the tears poured over and I couldn't stop them from falling. I backed away and ran out the door, but it would never be fast enough. I would never be able to run away from this. I stormed out the school through the double doors and I was met by the bright sun but I didn't feel it's warmth. The days were cold and bitter now as they descended into the frigid months of January and February. I could see my breath as I exhaled. And I just left after that. I couldn't go back in there and face all those people. So I walked home. I knew Uriel would be furious but I couldn't bring myself to care. I just wanted to be alone and never see anyone again. I thought of the way I could go to sleep one night and not wake up in the morning. I imagined how everyone would react, see their smiling faces at my burial. I could see and almost feel how they were much happier with me being gone. And then I thought of those green eyes that invaded my dreams last night. Dean. What would Dean think if I was gone. Would he care? Would he be sad or happy? Would he be angry? Angry with me or with the rest of the world? What would he do upon finding out about my death? All these questions, and I couldn't answer one of them. I walk a little further and my thoughts are quiet for a moment. It was pleasant. Most would probably disagree, but the feeling of silence in my head was a rare occasion. I reveled in it. But just as all moments like that are short lived, this one was too. Somewhere in the distance I could hear a loud, growling engine. It seemed to be getting closer and closer to me. My heartbeat began to pound loudly, almost painfully, in my chest. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I was afraid, someone was going to find me and I knew, I just knew they would hurt me. The loud engine was getting closer and looked over my shoulder to see the top of a dark colored car peek over the hill. I turned back and ran hard, harder than I have ever run before. I slipped, lost my footing and fell onto the hard, black tar.
Good, I thought, maybe they'll just run over me and this will all be over. I didn't even try to get up.
Instead of feeling the bones in body being crushed, I heard the vehicle come to a screeching halt as the tires slid along the road towards me. I never looked but the car had to have been no more than a foot away from me. I could feel the vibration of the car on the ground where I lay. The car was still running when I heard the squeak of a door being opened and then slammed shut. Well, this isn't going to be as painless as I thought apparently. I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the footsteps get closer to me. This was it, I mind as well already be dead.
"Cas?"
My eyes flew open to the sound of my name. I slowly looked to see boots, jeans, the leather jacket, the hard jaw, and green eyes, staring down at me. I couldn't believe it. Dean. He was right here, with me. I must be dead.
"Cas, buddy," I could hear the concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"
"I... I, ah.. help, Dean," I pleaded to him. I don't think I could have taken it if he left me at that moment. "Pl-please don't.... don't go.." And that was when I passed out. Maybe death will take me this time.
•
When I come to, I'm laying in a bed. One that is not my own. I look around and nothing looks familiar for that matter. The room is pretty bare, except for a picture on the wall and a dresser. I sit up, which was a big mistake; my head throbbed with pain and my vision goes blurry for a moment. I lay back down and let out an irritated sigh. At that time, someone walks in the room.
"Oh good, you're awake. I thought you were gonna sleep till next Christmas." Dean. He laughed and smiled at me.
"How... how long have I been asleep?"
"Ah, I dunno. I kinda lost count after six hours." He came and sat on the bed next to me. He stared at me intently for a moment, the reached out and caressed my cheek.
"How do you feel," he asked in a soft voice.
"I'm not sure. I'm tired, I know that." I wasn't sure if he would understand the double meaning there, but it rang like a bell to me.
"Uh, Dean? Where am I, exactly?"
"Oh," his face brightened a bit. "You're in my room. I woulda put you on the couch but I was afraid Sammy would bother you when he came in."
"Sammy? Who's that?" For some reason, I felt a pang of jealousy at this other person, with Dean. Living with him.
"Sam's my little brother." Dean smiled and I relaxed. I think he may have sensed my feelings.
I nodded my head, but the movement made my head swell with pain. I clutched at my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut. I felt Dean move from off the bed. Oh no, please don't go. I don't want to be alone. The bed sank on my other side as I felt Dean crawl beside me.
"Hey, just take it easy, okay Cas?" Whenever Dean spoke my name, it sent shivers down my spine, the good kind too.
I leaned back on the pillows behind me and slowly opened my eyes to see Dean's concerned green ones looking back at me. We stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other. In that moment, I was content. I was... happy. Maybe not all hope is lost. Maybe... just maybe, someone actually cares.
"Cas?" Dean's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Yeah?"
He looked at me before speaking again. "You know, I'm here. Okay? Don't feel like you're alone when there's someone here for you to vent to. Vent to me. Cry on my shoulder. Because I cannot stand to see you in this state that you're in. I won't have it!" Dean's voice grew loud and almost desperate. "I don't know how a society so ugly would ever want to destroy something so beautiful." He reached out and ran his fingers through my hair and I leaned into the touch.
"Dean," I was trying to hold back the tears. The kindness Dean was showing me right now, it was so foreign to me. It was hard to fathom when all I had ever known was abuse and punishment for what I was.
"Shh," he whispered. "Everything is gonna be okay. You're okay, we're okay." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him so that my head was resting on his chest. He ran his fingers through my hair and I could feel his whole body quivering. I look up at him to see tears rolling down his face. I reach up and wipe his tears away with my thumb. He opens his eyes and stares at me with his moist green eyes. I move my hand to the back of his neck and play with the short hair.
"We're okay," I whisper. And he pulls me close to him and pushes his lips against mine. It was unexpected but I could feel his desperation in the kiss so I gave him what he needed. A chance. That's all any of us ever needed, just a chance. He was mine, and I was his. In that moment, I finally had what I had been missing for so long. Acceptance.
Dean and I laid back on his bed and fell asleep together. Finally, I was at peace. Finally, I had something to live for.
Finally.