𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛[𝙳.𝚆]

046

"Stay still you little slut!" He screams in my face. I don't listen, instead I kick and I shove with all my might. The gun that I always hide under my pillow was thrown across the room a while back so all I had was my limbs to overpower him. However, I was failing miserably.

"Stop it! Stop!" I scream through tears. I pray someone can hear us, can hear what he's doing to me. But they don't. He slaps my cheek with full force, sending my head flying to the side.

"The more you struggle, the more it'll hurt." He grunts, pushing deeper. I sob uncontrollably, with my hands over my face, not wanting to see him on top of me.

I feel him move in and out harshly and all I feel is pain, my insides ripping apart at the brutal force.

"Show me your face. I want to see the pain in your eyes. The tears rolling down your cheeks." He chuckles darkly.

When I don't listen he wraps one hand around each wrist, almost snapping them with his steely grip, and throws them away from my face.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it, bitch." He grabs my chin and forces me to look into his dark brown eyes.

They were cold, angry. He has an evil smirk on his face, beads of sweat rolling down his pale skin. He couldn't have been older than twenty five. He was well built, but I guess that's expected of a hunter his age, and has a buzz cut.

I whimper out in pain when he lifts my leg up and thrusts deeper. He takes his other hand and tightly wraps it around my neck, nearly suffocating me to death. I claw at his wrist and desperately gasp for air.

"P-please, stop. I b-beg you. I-I'll do anything. Just s-s-stop!" I scream brokenly through gasps. He laughs loudly and it shoots fear down my spine. Slowly, he leans down to my ear.

"I'm only getting started, Davis." He spits. "I'm gonna break you beyond repair."

I shoot up in bed and gasp loudly. My heart is nearly pumping out of my chest, and I had sweat sticking my clothes to my skin. I stare at the stained white wall across from my bed and blink rapidly. My hands fly to my neck.

It was just a nightmare, Jennifer. Breathe.

"Jenny?" I turn my head ever so slowly towards the voice and meet Dean's green eyes. My favorite color. He's sitting at the motel room's table, head tilted to the side, brows furrowed as he tilts his chair back. "You okay?" He asks. I reluctantly nod.

"Just a nightmare." I swallow thickly. My eyes move to where Sam sits on the opposite bed. He's on the phone with someone but he doesn't seem to be listening as he looks at me worriedly. I don't even have the energy to fake a smile his way so I just give a thumbs up to show him I'm good.

"Just call us if you hear anything. Thanks." Sam sighs, hanging up.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asks.

"Nope. Neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?" Sam asks. I ignore the rest of their conversation and stiffly slide off the bed, heading into the bathroom. After closing the door behind me gently, I rest both hands on either side of the sink, head hanging in defeat.

I felt cold and numb, both physically and mentally. I thought I got over what happened all those years ago, but I guess I haven't. It still hurts so badly. I could still feel his hands all over me, his breath fanning against my neck, and his particular male anatomy.

I peel off my clothes one by one with shaky fingers and turn on the shower. I wait a few seconds for it to get to the boiling temperature I craved before stepping inside.